=r\ 


GIFT  or 

Yoshi   S.   Kuno 


THE 


LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES 


OF 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT, 


BY 

CHARLES    DICKENS 


WITH  ILLUSTRA  TIONS. 


NEW   YORK 

JOHN    W.  LOVELL   COMPANY 

150  Worth  Street,  corner  Mission  Place 


f/ 


'  U 


.\ 


^  -I 


-u 


/ 


/  / 


i/....\ 


•  •'  »  ■ 


PREFACE. 


What  is  exaggeration  to  one  class  of  minds  and  percep- 
tions, is  plain  truth  to  another.  That  which  is  commonly 
called  a  long-sight,  perceives  in  a  prospect  innumerable 
features  and  bearings  non-existent  to  a  short-sighted  person. 
I  sometimes  ask  myself  whether  there  may  occasionally  be  a 
difference  of  this  kind  between  some  writers  and  some 
readers  ;  whether  it  is  always  the  writer  who  colors  highly, 
or  whether  it  is  now  and  then  the  reader  whose  eye  for  color 
is  a  little  dull  ? 

On  this  head  of  exaggeration  I  have  a  positive  experience 
more  curious  than  the  speculation  I  have  just  set  down.  It 
is  this  : — I  have  never  touched  a  character  precisely  from  the 
life,  but  some  counterpart  of  that  character  has  incredulously 
asked  me  :   "  Now  really,  did  I  ever  really,  see  one  like  it  ? " 

All  the  Pecksniff  family  upon  earth  are  quite  agreed,  I 
believe,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  an  exaggeration,  and  that  no 
such  character  ever  existed.  I  will  not  offer  any  plea  on  his 
behalf  to  so  powerful  and  genteel  a  body,  but  will  make  a 
remark  on  the  character  of  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

I  conceive  that  the  sordid  coarseness  and  brutality  of 
Jonas  would  be  unnatural,  if  there  had  been  nothing  in  his 
early  education,  and  in  the  precept  and  example  always 
before  him,  to  engender  and  develop  the  vices  that  make 
him  odious.  But,  so  born  and  so  bred — admired  for  that 
which  made  him  hateful,  and  justified  from  his  cradle  in 
cunning,  treachery,  and  avarice;  I  claim  him  as  the  legitimate 
issue  of  the  father  upon  whom  those  vices  are  seen  to  recoil. 
And  I  submit  that  their  recoil  upon  that  old  man,  in  his  un- 
honored  age,  is  not  a  mere  piece  of  poetical  justice,  but  is 
the  extreme  exposition  of  a  direct  truth. 

I  make  this  comment  and  solicit  the  reader's  attention  to 
it  in  his  or  her  consideration  of  this  tale,  because  nothing 
is  more  common  in  real  life  than  a  want  of  profitable  reflec- 
tion on  the  causes  of  many  vices  and  crimes  that  awaken 
general  horror.  What  is  substantially  true  of  families  in  this 
respect,  is  true  of  a  whole  commonwealth.     As  we  sow,  we 

iw  194476 


iv  PREFACE. 

reap.  Let  the  reader  go  into  the  children's  side  of  any 
prison  in  England,  or,  I  grieve  to  add,  of  many  work  houses, 
and  judge  whether  those  are  monsters  who  disgrace  our 
streets,  people  our  hulks  and  penitentiaries,  and  overcrowd 
our  penal  colonies,  or  are  creatures  whom  we  have  deliber- 
ately suffered  to  be  bred  for  misery  and  ruin. 

The  American  portion  of  this  story  is  in  no  other  respect 
a  caricature,  than  as  it  is  an  exhibition,  for  the  most  part 
(Mr.  Bevan  excepted),  of  a  ludicrous  side,  onl}\  of  the  Ameri- 
can character — of  that  side  which  was,  four-and-twenty  years 
ago,  from  its  nature,  the  most  obtrusive,  and  the  most  likely 
to  be  seen  by  such  travelers  as  young  Martin  and  Mark 
Tapley.  As  I  had  never,  in  writing  fiction,  had  any  disposi- 
tion to  soften  what  is  ridiculous  or  wrong  at  home,  so  I  then 
hoped  that  the  good-humored  people  of  the  United  States 
would  not  be  generally  disposed  to  quarrel  with  me  for  carry- 
ing the  same  usage  abroad.  I  am  happy  to  believe  that  my 
confidence  in  that  great  nation  was  not  misplaced. 

When  this  book  was  first  published,  I  was  given  to  under- 
stand, by  some  authorities,  that  the  Watertoast  Association 
and  eloquence  were  beyond  all  bounds  of  belief.  Therefore 
I  record  the  fact  that  all  that  portion  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit's 
experiences  is  a  literal  paraphrase  of  some  reports  of  public 
proceedings  in  the  United  States  (especially  of  the  proceed- 
ings of  a  certain  Brandywine  Association),  which  were  printed 
in  the  Times  newspaper  in  June  and  July,  1843,  at  about 
the  time  when  I  was  engaged  in  writing  those  parts  of  the 
book  ;  and  which  remain  on  the  file  of  the  Times  newspaper, 
of  course. 

In  all  my  writings,  I  hope  I  have  taken  every  available  op- 
portunity of  showing  the  want  of  sanitary  improvements  in 
the  neglected  dwellings  of  the  poor.  Mrs.  Sarah  Gamp  was, 
four-and-twenty  years  ago,  a  fair  representation  of  the  hired 
attendant  on  the  poor  in  sickness.  The  hospitals  of  London 
were,  in  many  respects,  noble  institutions  ;  in  others,  very 
defective.  I  think  it  not  the  least  among  the  instances  of 
their  mismanagement,  that  Mrs.  Betsy  Prig  was  a  fair  speci- 
men of  a  hospital  nurse  ;  and  that  the  hospitals,  with  their 
means  and  funds,  should  have  left  it  to  jjrivatc  humanity  and 
enterprise  to  enter  on  an  attempt  to  improve  that  class  of 
persons — since  greatly  improved  through  the  agency  of  good 
women. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER  I.     Introductory,  concerning  the  f>edigTee  of  the  Chuzelewit 

family,  ............         9 

CHAPTER  n.     Wherein  certain  persons  are  presented  to  the  reader, 

with  whom  he  may,  if  he  pleases,  become  better  acquainted,     .         .       15 

CHAPTER  HI.     In  which  certahi  other  persons  are  introduced  ;  on  the 

same  terms  as  in  the  last  chapter, ^ 

CHAPTER  IV.  From  which  it  will  appear  that  if  union  be  strength, 
and  family  affection  be  pleasant  to  contemplate,  the  Chuzzlewits  were 
the  strongest  and  most  agreeable  family  in  the  world,         .         .         .51 

CHAPTER  V.  Containing  a  full  account  of  the  installation  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  new  pupil  into  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Pecksniffs  family,  v.-ith 
all  the  festivities  held  on  that  occasion,  and  the  great  enjoyment  of 
Mr.  Pinch, 71 

CHAPTER  VI.  Comprises,  among  other  important  matters,  Peck- 
sniffian  and  architectural,  an  exact  relation  of  the  progress  made  by 
Mr.  Pinch  in  the  confidence  and  friendship  of  the  new  pupil,     .         .       93 

CHAPTER  VII.     In  which  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  asserts  the  independence 

of  his  spirit,  and  the  Blue  Dragon  loses  a  limb,  ....     108 

CHAPTER  VIII.  Accompanies  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  charming  daugh- 
ters to  the  city  of  London  ;  and  relates  what  fell  out,  upon  their  way 
thither, 124 

CHAPTER  IX.     Town  and  Todgers's 135 

CHAPTER  X.     Containing  strange  matter  ;  on  which  many  evenly  in 

this  historv-  may,  for  their  good  or  evil  influence,  chiefly  depend,       ,     162 

CHAPTER  XI.  Wherein  a  certain  gentleman  becomes  particular  in  his 
attentions  to  a  certain  lady  ;  and  more  coming  events  than  one,  cast 
their  shadows  before, 177 

CHAPTER  XII.  Will  be  seen  in  the  long  run,  if  not  in  the  short  ^one, 
to  concern  Mr.  Pinch  and  others,  nearly.  Mr.  Pecksniff  asserts  the 
dignity  of  outraged  virtue.  Young  Martin  Chuzzlewit  forms  a  des- 
perate resolution, 199 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER  XIII.  Showing  what  became  of  Martin  and  his  desperate 
resolve  after  he  left  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house;  what  persons  he  encount- 
ered ;  what  anxieties  he  suffered  ;  and  what  news  he  heard,      .        .     219 

CHAPTER  XIV.  In  which  Martin  bids  adieu  to  the  lady  of  his  love  ; 
and  honors  an  obscure  individual  whose  fortune  he  intends  to  make, 
by  commending  her  to  his  protection, 241 

CHAPTER  XV.     The  burden  whereof  is,  Hail,  Columbia  !   .        .        .252 

CHAPTER  XVI.  Martin  disembarks  from  that  noble  and  fast-sailing- 
line-of-packet  ship,  the  Screw,  at  the  port  of  New  York,  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  He  makes  some  acquaintances,  and 
dines  at  a  boarding-house.     The  particulars  of  those  transactions,   .    261 

CHAPTER  XVII.  Martin  enlarges  his  circle  of  acquaintance ;  increases 
his  stock  of  wisdom  ;  and  has  an  excellent  opportunity  of  comparing 
his  own  experiences  with  those  of  Lummy  Ned  of  the  Light  Salis- 
bury, as  related  by  his  friend,  Mr.  William  Simmons,       .         .         .     283 

CHAPTER  XVIII.     Does  business  with  the  house  of  Anthony  Chuzzle- 

wit  and  Son,  from  which  one  of  the  partners  retires  unexpectedly,  .     303 

CHAPTER  XIX.  The  reader  is  brought  into  communication  with  some 
professional  persons,  and  sheds  a  tear  over  the  filial  piety  of  good 
Mr.  Jonas, 314 

CHAPTER  XX.     Is  a  chapter  of  love, 330 

CHAPTER  XXI.  More  American  experiences.  Martin  takes  a  partner, 
and  makes  a  purchase.  Some  account  of  Eden,  as  it  appeared  on 
paper.  Also  of  the  British  Lion.  Also  of  the  kind  of  sympathy 
professed  and  entertained  by  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United 
Sympathizers, 345 

CHAPTER  XXII.     From  which  it  will  be  seen  that  Martin  became  a 

lion  on  his  own  account.     Together  with  the  reason  why,  .        .     366 

CHAPTER  XXIII.     Martin  and  his  partner  take  possession  of  their 

estate.     The  joyful  occasion  involves  some  further  account  of  Eden,    377 

CHAPTER  XXIV.     Reports  progress  in  certain  homely  matters  of  love, 

hatred,  jealousy,  and  revenge,     .        .        .        .    *    .        .        .        .    387 

CHAPTER  XXV.     Is  in  part  professional;  and  furnishes  the  reader 

with  some  valuable  hints  in  relation  to  the  management  of  a  sick  . 

chamber, 403 

CHAPTER  XXVI.     An  unexpected  meeting,  and  a  promising  prospect,  420 

CHAPTER  XXVII.  Showing  that  old  friends  may  not  only  appear  with 
new  faces,  but  in  false  colors.  That  people  are  prone  to  bite ;  and 
that  bijers  may  sometimes  be  bitten, 428 

CHAPTER  XXVIII.     Mr.  Montague  at  home.     And  Mr.  Jonas  Chuz- 

zlewit  at  home,  4C0 


CONTENTS.  vn 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER  XXIX.  In  which  some  people  are  precocious,  others  profes- 
sional, and  others  mysterious  ;  all  in  their  several  ways,    .         .         .     461 

CHAPTER  XXX.  Proves  that  changes  may  be  rung  in  the  best-regu- 
lated families,  and  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  special  hand  at  a  triple- 
bob-major,  . 471 

CHAPTER  XXXI.  Mr.  Pinch  is  discharged  of  duty  which  he  never 
owed  to  any  body  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  discharges  a  duty  which  he 
owes  to  society, 488 

CHAPTER  XXXII.  Treats  of  Todgers's  again  ,  and  of  another  blight- 
ed plant  besides  the  plants  upon  the  leads, 506 

CHAPTER  XXXIII.     Further  proceedings  in  Eden,  and  a  proceeding 

out  of  it.     Martin  makes  a  discovery  of  some  importance,         .         .513 

CHAPTER  XXXIV.     In   which   the   travelers    move   homeward,    and 

encounter  some  distinguished  characters  upon  the  way,     .        .         .     430 

CHAPTER  XXXV.  Arriving  in  England,  Martin  witnesses  a  cere- 
mony, from  which  he  derives  the  cheering  information  that  he  has 
not  been  forgotten  in  his  absence, 547 

CHAPTER  XXXVI.     Tom  Pinch  departs  to  seek  his  fortune.     What 

he  finds  at  starting, 554 

CHAPTER  XXXVII.  Tom  Pinch,  going  astray,  finds  that  he  is  not 
the  only  person  in  that  predicament.  He  retaliates  upon  a  fallen 
foe, 576 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII.     Secret  service, 586 

CHAPTER  XXXIX.  Containing  some  further  particulars  of  the 
domestic  economy  of  the  Pinches  ;  with  strange  news  from  the  city, 
narrowly  concerning  Tom,  ........     596 

CHAPTER  XL.     The   Pinches   make  a  new   acquaintance,  and  have 

fresh  occasion  for  surprise  and  wonder,       ......     614 

CHAPTER  XLI.  Mr.  Jonas  and  his  friend  arriving  at  a  pleasant  under- 
standing, set  forth  upon  an  enterprise, 629 

CHAPTER  XLII.     Continuation  of  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 

friend, 639 

CHAPTER  XLIIl.     Has  an  influence  on  the  fortunes  of  several  people. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  is  exhibited  in  the  plenitude  of  power,  and  wields  the 
same  with  fortitude  and  magnanimity.        ......     649 

CHAPTER  XLIV.     Further    continuation    of    the   enterprise   of   Mr. 

Jonas  and  his  friend, 671 

CHAPTER  XLV.  In  which  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister  take  a  little 
pleasure  ;  but  quite  in  a  domestic  way,  and  with  no  ceremony  about 
it, 680 

CHAPTER  XLVI.  In  which  Miss  Pecksniff  makes  love,  Mr.  Jonas 
makes  wrath,  Mrs.  Gamp  makes  tea,  and  Mr.  Chilffey  makes  busi- 
ness,    .............     690 


viii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XLVII.     Conclusion  of  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 

friend,  . 713 

CHAPTER  XLVni.  Bears  tidings  of  Martin,  and  of  Mark,  as  well  as 
of  a  third  person  not  quite  unknown  to  the  reader.  Exhibits  filial 
piety  in  an  ugly  aspect ;  and  casts  a  doubtful  ray  of  light  upon  a  very 
dark  place, 722 

CHAPTER  XLIX,     In  which  Mrs,  Harris,  assisted  by  a  tea-pot,  is  the 

cause  of  a  division  between  friends,    .......     740 

CHAPTER  L.  Surprises  Tom  Pinch  very  much,  and  shows  how  cer- 
tain confidences  passed  between  him  and  his  sister,    ....     754 

CHAPTER  LI.  Sheds  new  and-  brighter  light  upon  the  very  dark 
place  ;  and  contains  the  sequel  of  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 
friend,  ............     765 

CHAPTER  LII.     In   which  the  tables  are  turned  completely  upside 

down,  ............     787 

CHAPTER  LIII.  What  John  Westlock  said  to  Tom  Pinch's  sister  ; 
what  Tom  Pinch's  sister  said  to  John  Westlock  ;  what  Tom  Pinch 
said  to  both  of  them  ;  and  how  they  all  passed  the  remainder  of  the 
day, 807 

CHAPTER  LIV.     Gives  the  author  great  concern.     For  it  is  the  last 

in  the  book, 816 


LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES 

OF 

MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY,       CONCERNING       THE       PEDIGREE     OF     THE 
CHUZZLEWIT    FAMILY. 

As  no  lady  or  gentleman,  with  any  claims  to  polite  breed- 
ing, can  possibly  sympathize  with  the  Chuzzlewit  Family 
without  being  first  assured  of  the  extreme  antiquity 
of  the  race,  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  know 
that  it  undoubtedly  descended  in  a  direct  line  from 
Adam  and  Eve  ;  and  was,  in  the  very  earliest  times,  closely 
connected  with  the  agricultural  interest.  If  it  should  ever 
be  urged  by  grudging  and  malicious  persons,  that  a  Chuz- 
zlewit, in  any  period  of  the  family  history,  displayed  an 
overweening  amount  of  family  pride,  surely  the  weakness 
will  be  considered  not  only  pardonable  but  laudable,  when 
the  immense  superiority  of  the  house  to  the  rest  of  man- 
kind, in  respect  of  this  its  ancient  origin,  is  taken  into 
account. 

It  is  remarkable  that  as  there  was,  in  the  oldest  family  of 
which  we  have  any  record,  a  murderer  and  a  vagabond,  so 
we  never  fail  to  meet,  in  the  records  of  all  old  families, 
with  innumerable  repetitions  of  the  same  phase  of  character. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  principle,  that  the 
more  extended  the  ancestry,  the  greater  the  amount  of  vio- 
lence and  vagabondism  ;  for  in  ancient  days,  those  two 
amusements,  combining  a  wholesome  excitement  with  a 
promising  means  of  repairing  shattered  fortunes,  were  at  once 
the  ennobling  pursuit  and  the  healthful  recreation  of  the 
quality  of  this  land. 

Consequently,  it  is  a  source  of  inexpressible  comfort  and 
happiness  to  find,  that  in  various  periods  of  our  history,  the 
Chuzzl^wits  were  actively  connected  with  divers  slaughterous 
conspiracies  and  bloody  frays.     It  is  further  recorded  of 


.  10  .  .  MAK'l  IN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

'tVem,  that  being  cla'd'Tfo'ni  head  to  heel  in  steel  of  proof, 
they  did  on  many  occasions  lead  their  leather-jerkined 
soldiers  to  the  death,  with  invincible  courage,  and  after- 
ward return  home  gracefully  to  their  relations  and  friends. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  at  least  one  Chuzzlewit  came 
over  with  William  the  Conqueror.  It  does  not  appear  that 
this  illustrious  ancestor  "  came  over "  that  monarch,  to 
employ  the  vulgar  phrase,  at  any  subsequent  period  ;  inas- 
much as  the  family  do  not  seem  to  have  been  ever  greatly 
distinguished  by  the  possession  of  landed  estate.  And  it  is 
well  known  that  for  the  bestowal  of  that  kind  of  property 
upon  his  favorites,  the  liberality  and  gratitude  of  the  Nor- 
man were  as  remarkable,  as  those  virtues  are  usually  found 
to  be  in  great  men  when  they  give  away  what  belongs  to 
other  people. 

Perhaps  in  this  place  the  history  may  pause  to  congratu- 
late itself  upon  the  enormous  amount  of  bravery,  wisdom, 
eloquence,  virtue,  gentle  birth,  and  true  nobility,  that 
appears  to  have  come  into  England  with  the  Norman 
invasion  ;  an  amount  which  the  genealogy  of  every  ancient 
family  lends  its  aid  to  swell,  and  which  would  beyond  all 
question  have  been  found  to  be  just  as  great,  and  to  the  full 
as  prolific  in  giving  birth  to  long  lines  of  chivalrous  descend- 
ants, boastful  of  their  origin,  even  though  William  the 
Conqueror  had  been  William  the  Conquered,  a  change  of 
circumstances  which,  it  is  quite  certain,  would  have  made 
no  manner  of  difference  in  this  respect. 

There  was  unquestionably  a  Chuzzlewit  in  the  Gunpowder 
Plot,  if  indeed  the  arch-traitor,  Fawkes  himself,  were  not  a 
scion  of  this  remarkable  stock,  as  he  might  easily  have  been, 
supposing  another  Chuzzlewit  to  have  emigrated  to  Spain  in 
the  previous  generation,  and  there  intermarried  with  a 
Spanish  lady,  by  whom  he  had  issue,  one  olive-complex- 
ioned  son.  This  probable  conjecture  is  strengthened,  if  not 
absolutely  confirmed,  by  a  fact  which  can  not  fail  to  be 
interesting  to  those  who  are  curious  in  tracing  the  progress 
of  hereditary  tastes  through  the  lives  of  their  unconscious 
inheritors.  It  is  a  notable  circumstance  that  in  these  later 
times,  many  Chuzzlewits,  being  unsuccessful  in  other  pur- 
suits, have,  without  the  smallest  rational  hope  of  enriching 
themselves,  or  any  conceivable  reason,  set  up  as  coal-mer- 
chants ;  and  have,  month  after  month,  continued  gloomily 
to  watch  a  small  stock  of  coals  without  in  any  one  instance 
negotiating  with  a   purchaser.     The   remarkable  similarity 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  ii 

between  this  course  of  proceeding  and  that  adopted  by  their 
great  ancestor  beneath  the  vauks  of  the  parliament  house 
at  Westminster,  is  too  obvious  and  too  full  of  interest,  to 
stand  in  need  of  comment. 

It  is  also  clearly  proved  by  the  oral  traditions  of  the 
family,  that  there  existed,  at  some  one  period  of  its  history 
which  is  not  distinctly  stated,  a  matron  of  such  destructive 
principles,  and  so  familiarized  to  the  use  and  composition 
of  inflammatory  and  combustible  engines,  that  she  was  called 
"  The  Match  Maker  ; "  by  which  nickname  and  by-word 
she  is  recognized  in  the  family  legends  to  this  day.  Surely 
ther,e  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  this  was  the  Spanish 
lady,  the  mother  of  Chuzzlewit  Fawkes. 

But  there  is  one  other  piece  of  evidence,  bearing  immedi- 
ate reference  to  their  close  connection  with  this  memorable 
event  in  English  history,  which  must  carry  conviction,  even 
to  a  mind  (if  such  a  mind  there  be)  remaining  unconvinced 
by  these  presumptive  proofs. 

There  was,  within  a  few  years,  in  the  possession  of  a 
highly  respectable  and  in  every  way  credible  and  unim- 
peachable member  of  the  Chuzzlewit  family  (for  his  bitterest 
enemy  never  dared  to  hint  at  his  being  otherwise  than  a 
wealthy  man),  a  dark  lantern  of  undoubted  antiquity  ;  ren- 
dered still  more  interesting  by  being,  in  shape  and  pattern, 
extremely  like  such  as  are  in  use  at  the  present  day.  Now 
this  gentleman,  since  deceased,  was  at  all  times  ready  to 
make  oath,  and  did  again  and  again  set  forth  upon  his 
solemn  asseveration,  that  he  had  frequently  heard  his  grand- 
mother say,  when  contemplating  this  venerable  relic,  "  Ay, 
ay  !  This  was  carried  by  my  fourth  son  on  the  fifth  of 
November,  when  he  was  a  Guy  Fawkes."  These  remark- 
able words  wrought  (as  well  they  might)  a  strong  impres- 
sion on  his  mind,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  repeating  them 
very  often.  The  just  interpretation  which  they  bear,  and 
the  conclusion  to  which  they  lead,  are  triumphant  and  irre- 
sistible. The  old  lady,  naturally  strong-minded,  was  never- 
theless frail  and  fading  ;  she  was  notoriously  subject  to  that 
confusion  of  ideas,  or,  to  say  the  least,  of  speech,  to  which 
age  and  garrulity  are  liable.  The  slight,  the  very  slight 
confusion,  apparent  in  these  expressions,  is  manifest  and  is 
ludicrously  easy  of  correction.  ''Ay,  ay,"  quoth  she,  and  it 
will  be  observed  that  no  emendation  whatever  is  necessarv 
to  be  made  in  these  two  initiative  remarks,  "  Ay,  ay  !  This 
lantern  was  carried  by  my    forefather  "—not  fourth   son, 


\2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

which  is  preposterous — "  on  the  fifth  of  November.  And 
he  was  Guy  Fawkes."  Here  we  have  a  remark  at  once  con- 
sistent, clear,  natural,  and  in  strict  accordance  with  the 
character  of  the  speaker.  Indeed  the  anecdote  is  so  plainly 
susceptible  of  this  meaning,  and  no  other,  that  it  would  be 
hardly  worth  recording  in  its  original  state,  were  it  not  a 
proof  of  what  may  be  (and  very  often  is)  affected  not  only 
in  historical  prose  but  in  imaginative  poetry,  by  the  exercise 
of  a  little  ingenious  labor  on  the  part  of  a  commentator. 

It  has  been  said  that  there  is  no  instance  in  modern  times, 
of  a  Chuzzlewit  having  been  found  on  terms  of  intimacy 
with  the  great.  But  here  again  the  sneering  detractors 
who  weave  such  miserable  figments  from  their  malicious 
brains,  are  stricken  dumb  by  evidence.  For  letters  are  yet  in 
the  possession  of  various  branches  of  the  family,  from  which 
it  distinctly  appears,  being  stated  in  so  many  words,  that 
one  Diggory  Chuzzlewit  was  in  the  habit  of  perpetually 
dining  with  Duke  Humphrey.  So  constantly  was  he  a 
guest  at  that  nobleman's  table,  indeed,  and  so  unceasingly 
were  his  grace's  hospitality  and  companionship  forced,  as 
it  were,  upon  him,  that  we  find  him  uneasy,  and  full  of  con- 
straint and  reluctance  ;  writing  his  friends  to  the  effect  that 
if  they  fail  to  do  so  and  so  by  bearer,  he  will  have  no  choice 
but  to  dine  again  with  Duke  Humphrey  ;  and  expressing 
himself  in  a  very  marked  and  extraordinary  manner  as  one 
surfeited  of  high  life  and  gracious  company. 

It  has  been  rumored,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  the  rumor 
originated  in  the  same  base  quarters,  that  a  certain  male 
Chuzzlewit,  whose  birth  must  be  admitted  to  be  involved 
in  some  obscurity,  was  of  very  mean  and  low  descent. 
How  stands  the  proof  ?  When  the  son  of  that  individual, 
to  whom  the  secret  of  his  father's  birth  was  supposed 
to  have  been  communicated  by  his  father  in  his  lifetime, 
lay  upon  his  deathbed,  this  question  was  put  to  him  in  a 
distinct,  solemn  and  formal  Avay  :  Toby  Chuzzlewit,  who 
was  your  grandfather  ?  To  which  he,  with  his  last  breath,  no 
less  distinctly,  solemnly,  and  formally  replied — and  his  words 
were  taken  down  at  the  time,  and  signed  by  six  witnesses 
each  with  his  name  and  address  in  full — "  The  Lord  No  Zoo." 
It  may  be  said — it  has  been  said,  for  human  wickedness  has 
no  limits — that  there  is  no  lord  of  that  name,  and  that  among 
the  titles  which  have  become  extinct,  none  at  all  resembling 
this,  in  sound  even,  is  to  be  discovered.  But  what  is  the 
irresistible  inference  ?     Rejecting  a  theory  broached  by  some 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  13 

well-meaning  but  mistaken  persons,  that  this  Mr.  Toby  Chuz- 
zlewit's  grandfather,  to  judge  from  his  name,  must  surely  have 
been  a  mandarin  (which  is  wholly  insupportable,  for  there  is 
no  pretense  of  his  grandmother  ever  having  been  out  of  this 
country^  or  of  any  mandarin  having  been  in  it  within  some 
years  of  his  father's  birth,  except  those  in  the  tea-shops, 
which  can  not  for  a  moment  be  regarded  as  having  any  bear- 
ing on  the  question,  one  way  or  other),  rejecting  this  hypothe- 
sis, is  it  not  manifest  that  Mr.  Toby  Chuzzlewit  had  either 
received  the  name  imperfectly  from  his  father,  or  that  he 
had  forgotten  it,  or  that  he  had  mispronounced  it?  and  that 
even  at  the  recent  period  in  question,  the  Chuzzlewits  were 
connected  by  a  bend  sinister,  or  kind  of  heraldic  over-the- 
left,  with  some  unknown  noble  and  illustrious  house  ? 

From  documentary  evidence,  yet  preserved  in  the  family, 
the  fact  is  clearly  established  that  in  the  comparatively 
modern  days  of  the  Diggory  Chuzzlewit  before  mentioned, 
one  of  its  members  had  attained  to  very  great  wealth  and 
influence.  Throughout  such  fragments  of  his  correspond- 
ence as  have  escaped  the  ravages  of  the  moths  (who,  in  right 
of  their  extensive  absorption  of  the  contents  of  deeds  and 
papers,  may  be  called  the  general  registers  of  the  insect 
world),  we  find  him  making  constant  reference  to  an  uncle, 
in  respect  of  whom  he  would  seem  to  have  entertained  great 
expectations,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  seeking  to  propitiate 
his  favor  by  presents  of  plate,  jewels,  books,  watches,  ano 
other  valuable  articles.  Thus,  he  writes  on  one  occasioa  to 
his  brother  in  reference  to  a  gravy-spoon,  the  brother's  prop- 
erty, which  he  (Diggory)  would  appear  to  have  borrowed  01 
otherwise  possessed  himself  of:  ''  Do  not  be  angry,  I  have 
parted  with  it — to  my  uncle."  On  another  occasion  he 
expresses  himself  in  a  similar  manner  with  regard  to  a 
child's  lAug  which  had  been  entrusted  to  him  to  get  repaired. 
On  another  occasion  he  says:  '*  I  have  bestowed  upon  that 
irresistible  uncle  of  mine  every  thing  I  ever  possessed."  And 
that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  paying  long  and  constant  visits  to 
this  gentleman  at  his  mansion,  if,  indeed,  he  did  not  wholly 
reside  there,  is  manifest  from  the  following  sentence:  "  With 
the  exception  of  the  suit  of  clothes  I  carry  about  with  me, 
the  whole  of  my  wearing  apparel  is  at  present  at  my  uncle's." 
This  gentleman's  patronage  and  influence  must  have  been 
very  extensive,  for  his  nephew  writes:  "His  interest  is  too 
high" — **it  is  too  much" — "it  is  tremendous" — and  the 
like.     Still  it  does  not  appear  (which  is  strange)  to  have 


14  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWiT. 

procured  for  him  any  lucrative  post  at  court  or  elsewhere, 
or  to  have  conferred  upon  him  any  other  distinction  than 
that  which  was  necessarily  included  in  the  countenance  of 
so  great  a  man,  and  the  being  invited  by  him  to  certain 
entertainments,  so  splendid  and  costly  in  their  nature  that 
he  calls  them  "  golden  balls." 

It  is  needless  to  multiply  instances  of  the  high  and  lofty 
station,  and  the  vast  importance  of  the  Chuzzlewits,  at  dif- 
ferent periods.  If  it  came  within  the  scope  of  reasonable 
probability  that  further  proofs  were  required,  they  might 
be  heaped  upon  each  other  until  they  formed  an  Alps  of  tes- 
timony, beneath  which  the  boldest  skepticism  should  be 
crushed  and  beaten  fiat.  As  a  goodly  tumulus  is  already 
collected,  and  decently  battened  up  above  the  family  grave, 
the  present  chapter  is  content  to  leave  it  as  it  is;  merely 
adding,  by  way  of  a  final  spadeful,  that  many  Chuzzlewits, 
both  male  and  female,  are  proved  to  demonstration,  on  the 
faith  of  letters  written  by  their  own  mothers,  to  have  chis- 
eled noses,  undeniable  chins,  forms  that  might  have  served 
the  sculptor  for  a  model,  exquisitely-turned  limbs,  and  pol- 
ished foreheads  of  so  transparent  a  texture  that  the  blue 
veins  might  be  seen  branching  off  in  various  directions,  like 
so  many  roads  on  an  ethereal  map.  This  fact  in  itself, 
though  it  had  been  a  solitary  one,  would  have  utterly  set- 
tled and  clenched  the  business  in  hand;  for  it  is  well  known, 
on  the  authority  of  all  the  books  which  treat  of  such  mat- 
ters, that  every  one  of  these  phenomena,  but  especially  that 
of  the  chiseling,  are  invariably  peculiar  to,  and  only  make 
themselves  apparent  in,  persons  of  the  very  best  condition. 

This  history,  having,  to  its  own  perfect  satisfaction  (and, 
consequently,  to  the  full  contentment  of  all  its  readers), 
proved  the  Chuzzlewits  to  have  had  an  origin,  and  to  have 
been  at  one  time  or  other  of  an  importance  which  can  not 
fail  to  render  them  highly  improving  and  acceptable  acquaint- 
ance to  all  right-minded  individuals,  may  now  proceed  in 
earnest  with  its  task.  And  having  shown  that  they  must 
have  had,  by  reason  of  their  ancient  birth,  a  pretty  large 
share  in  the  foundation  and  increase  of  the  human  family, 
it  will  one  day  become  its  province  to  submit,  that 
such  of  its  members  as  shall  be  introduced  in  these 
pages,  have  still  many  counterparts  and  prototypes  in  the 
great  world  about  us.  At  present  it  contents  itself  with 
remarking,  in  a  general  way,  on  this  head  :  Firstly,  that  it 
may  be  safely  asserted  and  yet  without  implying  any  direct 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  15 

participation  in  the  Monboddo  doctrine  touching  the  prob- 
ability of  the  human  race  having  once  been  monkeys,  that 
men  do  play  very  strange  and  extraordinary  tricks.  Sec- 
ondly, and  yet  without  trenching  on  the  Blumenbach  theory 
as  to  the  descendant  of  Adam  having  a  vast  number  of  quali- 
ties which  belong  more  particularly  to  swine  than  to  any 
other  class  of  animals  in  the  creation,  that  some  men  cer- 
tainly are  remarkable  for  taking  uncommon  good  care  of 
themselves. 

CHAPTER   II. 

WHEREIN  CERTAIN  PERSONS  ARE  PRESENTED  TO  THE  READER, 
WITH  WHOM  HE  MAY,  IF  HE  PLEASES,  BECOME  BETTER 
ACQUAINTED. 

It  was  pretty  late  in  the  autumn  of  the  year,  when  the 
declining  sun,  struggling  through  the  mist  which  had 
obscured  it  all  day,  looked  brightly  down  upon  a  little  Wilt- 
shire village  within  an  easy  journey  of  the  fair  old  town  of 
Salisbury. 

Like  a  sudden  flash  of  memory  or  spirit  kindling  up  the 
mind  of  an  old  man,  it  shed  a  glory  upon  the  scene,  in  which 
its  departed  youth  and  freshness  seemed  to  live  again.  The 
wet  grass  sparkled  in  the  light  ;  the  scanty  patches  of  ver- 
dure in  the  hedges — where  a  few  green  twigs  yet  stood 
together  bravely,  resisting  to  the  last  the  tyranny  of  nipping 
winds  and  early  frosts — took  heart  and  brightened  up  ;  the 
stream,  which  had  been  dull  and  sullen  all  day  long,  broke 
out  into  a  cheerful  smile  ;  the  birds  began  to  chirp  and 
twitter  on  the  naked  boughs,  as  though  the  hopeful  creat- 
ures half  believed  that  winter  had  gone  by,  and  spring  had 
come  already.  The  vane  upon  the  tapering  spire  of  the  old 
church  glistened  from  its  lofty  station  in  sympathy  with  the 
general  gladness  ;  and  from  the  ivy-shaded  windows  such 
gleams  of  light  shone  back  upon  the  glowing  sky,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  quiet  buildings  were  the  hoarding-place  of 
twenty  summers,  and  all  their  ruddiness  and  warmth  were 
stored  within. 

Even  those  tokens  of  the  season  which  emphatically  whis- 
pered of  the  coming  winter,  graced  the  landscape,  and,  for 
the  moment,  tinged  its  livelier  features  with  no  oppressive 
air  of  sadness.  The  fallen  leaves,  with  which  the  ground 
was  strewn,  gave  forth  a  pleasant  fragrance,  and  subduing 


i6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

all  harsh  sounds  of  distant  feet  and  wheels,  created  a  repose 
in  gentle  unison  with  the  light  scattering  of  seed  hither  and 
thither  by  the  distant  husbandman,  and  with  the  noiseless 
passage  of  the  plow  as  it  turned  up  the  rich  brown  earth, 
and  wrought  a  graceful  pattern  in  the  stubbled  fields  On 
the  motionless  branches  of  some  trees,  autumn  berries  hung 
like  clusters  of  coral  beads,  as  in  those  fal)led  orchards  where 
the  fruits  were  jewels  ;  others,  stripped  of  all  their  garniture, 
stood  each  the  center  of  its  little  heap  of  bright  red  leaves, 
watching  their  slow  decay  ;  others  again,  still  wearing  theirs, 
had  them  all  crunched  and  crackled  up,  as  chough  they  had 
been  burned  ;  about  the  stems  of  some  were  piled, -in  ruddy 
mounds,  the  apples  they  had  borne  that  year  ;  while  others 
(hardly  evergreens  this  class)  showed  somewhat  stern  and 
gloomy  in  their  vigor,  as  charged  by  nature  with  the  admoni- 
tion that  it  is  not  to  her  more  sensitive  and  joyous  favorites 
she  grants  the  longest  term  of  life.  Still  athwart  their  darker 
boughs,  the  sunbeams  struck  out  paths  of  deeper  gold  ;  and 
the  red  light,  mantling  in  among  their  swarthy  branches,  used 
them  as  foils  to  set  its  brightness  off,  and  aid  the  luster  of  the 
dying  day. 

A  moment,  and  its  glory  was  no  more.  The  sun  went 
down  beneath  the  long  dark  lines  of  hill  and  cloud  which 
piled  up  in  the  west  an  airy  city,  wall  heaped  on  wall,  and 
l)attlement  on  battlement  ;  the  light  was  all  withdrawn  ;  the 
shining  church  turned  cold  and  dark  ;  the  stream  forgot  to 
to  smile  ;  the  birds  were  silent ;  and  the  gloom  of  winter 
dwelt  on  every  thing. 

An  evening  wind  uprose  too,  and  the  slighter  branches 
cracked  and  rattled  as  they  moved,  in  skeleton  dances,  to  its 
moaning  music.  The  withering  leaves  no  longer  quiet,  hur- 
ried to  and  fro  in  search  of  shelter  from  its  chill  pursuit  ;  the 
laborer  unyoked  horses,  and  with  his  head  bent  down 
trudged  briskly  home  beside  them  ;  and  from  the  cottage 
windows  lights  began  to  glance  and  wink  upon  the  darken- 
ing fields. 

Then  the  village  forge  came  out  in  all  its  bright  import- 
ance. The  lusty  bellows  roared  ha  ha  !  to  the  clear  fire, 
which  roared  in  turn,  and  bade  the  shining  sparks  dance 
gayly  to  the  merry  clinking  of  the  hammers  on  the  anvil. 
The  gleaming  iron,  in  its  emulation,  sparkled  too,  and  shed 
its  red  hot  gems  around  profusely.  The  strong  smith  and 
his  men  dealt  such  strokes  upon  their  work,  as  made  even  the 
melancholy  night  rejoice,  and  brought  a  glow  into  its  dark  face 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  17 

as  it  hovered  about  the  door  and  windows,  peeping  curiously 
in  above  the  shoulders  of  a  dozen  loungers.  As  to  this  idle 
company,  there  they  stood,  spell-bound  by  the  place,  and, 
casting  now  and  then  a  glance  upon  the  darkness  in  their 
rear,  settled  their  lazy  elbows  more  at  ease  upon  the  sill,  and 
leaned  a  little  further  in,  no  more  disposed  to  tear  themselves 
away  than  if  they  had  been  born  to  cluster  round  the  blaz- 
ing hearth  like  so  many  crickets. 

Out  upon  the  angry  wind  I  how  from  sighing,  it  began  to 
bluster  round  the  merry  forge,  banging  at  the  wicket,  and 
grumbling  in  the  chimney,  as  if  it  bullied  the  jolly  bellows 
for  doing  %ny  thing  to  order.  And  what  an  impotent  swag- 
gerer it  was  too,  for  all  its  noise  ;  for  if  it  had  any  influence 
on  that  hoarse  companion,  it  was  but  to  make  him  roar  his 
cheerful  song  the  louder,  and  by  consequence  to  make  the 
fire  burn  the  brighter,  and  the  sparks  to  dance  more  gayly 
yet  ;  at  length,  they  whizzed  so  madly  round  and  round,  that 
it  was  too  much  for  such  a  surly  wind  to  bear  ;  so  off  it  flew 
with  a  howl,  giving  the  old  sign  before  the  ale-house  door 
such  a  cuff  as  it  went,  that  the  blue  dragon  was  more  ram- 
pant than  usual  ever  afterward,  and  indeed,  before  Christ- 
mas reared  clean  out  of  its  crazy  frame. 

It  was  sm.all  tyranny  for  a  respectable  wind  to  go  wreaking 
its  vengeance  on  such  poor  creatures  as  the  fallen  leaves,  but 
this  wind  happening  to  come  up  with  a  great  heap  of  them 
just  after  venting  its  hum.or  on  the  insulted  dragon,  did  so 
disperse  and  scatter  them  that  they  fled  away,  pell-mell, 
some  here,  some  there,  rolling  over  each  other,  whirling  round 
and  round  upon  their  thin  edges,  taking  fi  antic  flights  into 
the  air,  and  playing  all  manner  of  extraordmary  gambols  in 
the  extremity  of  their  distress.  Xor  was  this  enough  for  its 
malicious  fury  ;  for  not  content  with  driving  them  abroad, 
it  charged  small  parties  of  them  and  hunted  them  into  the 
w^heelwright's  saw  pit,  and  below  the  planks  and  timbers  in 
the  yard,  and  scattering  the  sawdust  in  the  air,  it  looked  for 
them  underneath,  and  when  it  did  m.eet  with  any,  whew  ! 
how  it  drove  them,  on  and  followed  at  their  heels  ! 

The  scared  leaves  only  flew  the  faster  for  all  this,  and  a 
giddy  chase  it  was  ;  for  they  got  into  unfrequented  places, 
where  there  was  no  outlet,  and  where  their  pursuer  kept 
them  eddying  round  and  round  at  his  pleasure  ;  and  they 
crept  under  the  eaves  of  houses,  and  clung  tightly  to  the 
sides  of  hay  ricks,  like  bats  ;  and  tore  in  at  open  chamber 
windows,  and  cowered  close  to  hedges,  and   in   short  went 


i8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

anywhere  for  safety.  But  the  oddest  feat  they  achieved  was, 
to  take  advantage  of  the  sudden  opening  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
front  door,  to  dash  wildly  into  his  passage  ;  whither  the 
wind  following  close  upon  them,  and  finding  the  back  door 
open,  incontinently  blew  out  the  lighted  candle  held  by 
Miss  Pecksniff,  and  slammed  the  front  door  against  Mr. 
Pecksniff  who  was  at  that  moment  entering,  with  such  vio- 
lence, that  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  lay  on  his  back  at 
the  bottom  of  the  steps.  Being  by  this  time  weary  of  such 
trifling  performances,  the  boisterous  rover  hurried  away 
rejoicing,  roaring  over  moor  and  meadow,  hill  and  flat,  until 
it  got  out  to  sea,  where  it  met  with  other  winds  similarly  dis- 
posed, and  made  a  night  of  it. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Pecksniff,  having  received  from  a 
sharp  angle  in  the  bottom  step  but  one  that  sort  of  knock  on 
the  head  which  lights  up,  for  the  patient's  entertainment,  an 
imaginary  general  illumination  of  very  bright  short  sixes,  lay 
placidly  staring  at  his  own  street  door.  And  it  would  seem 
to  have  been  more  suggestive  in  its  aspect  than  street  doors 
usually  are  ;  for  he  continued  to  lie  there,  rather  ^  lengthy 
and  unreasonable  time,  without  so  much  as  wondering 
whether  he  was  hurt  or  no  ;  neither,  when  Miss  Pecksniff 
inquired  through  the  key-hole  in  a  shrill  voice,  which  might 
have  belonged  to  a  wind  in  its  teens,  "  Who's  there  ?  "  did 
he  make  any  reply  ;  nor,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  opened  the 
door  again,  and  shading  the  candle  with  her  hand,  peered 
out,  and  looked  provokingly  round  him,  and  about  him,  and 
over  him,  and  everywhere  but  at  him,  did  he  offer  my 
remark,  or  indicate  in  any  manner  the  least  hint  of  a  desire 
to  be  picked  up. 

"  /  see  you,"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  to  the  ideal  inflicter  of 
a  runaway  knock.     "  You'll  catch  it,  sir  !  " 

Still  Mr.  Pecksniff,  perhaps  from  having  caught  it  already, 
said  nothing. 

"  You're  round  the  corner  now,"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff. 
She  said  it  at  a  venture,  but  there  was  appropriate  matter  in  it 
too  ;  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  being  in  the  act  of  extinguishing  the 
candles  before  mentioned  pretty  rapidly,  and  of  reducing  the 
number  of  brass  knobs  on  his  street-door  from  four  or  five 
hundred  (which  had  previously  been  juggling  of  their  own 
accord  before  his  eyes  in  a  very  novel  manner)  to  a  dozen  or 
so,  might  in  one  sense  have  been  said  to  be  coming  round  the 
corner,  and  just  turning  it. 

With  a  sharply-delivered  warning  relative  to  the  cage  and 


MARTliN   CHUZ2LEWIT.  19 

the  constable  and  the  stocks  and  the  gallows,  Miss  Peck- 
sniff was  about  to  close  the  door  again,  when  Mr.  Pecksniff 
(being  still  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps)  raised  himself  up  on 
one  elbow  and  sneezed. 

"  That  voice  !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff.     "  My  parent  !  " 

At  this  exclamation,  another  Miss  Pecksniff  bounced  out 
of  the  parlor,  and  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  with  many  inco- 
herent expressions,  dragged  Mr.  Pecksniff  into  an  upright 
posture. 

"  Pa  !  "  they  cried  in  concert.  "  Pa  !  Speak,  pa  !  Do 
not  look  so  wild,  my  dearest  pa  !  " 

But  as  the  gentleman's  looks,  in  such  a  case  of  all  others, 
are  by  no  means  under  his  own  control,  Mr.  Pecksniff  con- 
tinued to  keep  his  mouth  and  his  eyes  very  wide  open,  and 
to  drop  his  lower  jaw,  somewhat  after  the  manner  of  a  toy 
nut-cracker  ;  and  as  his  hat  had  fallen  off,  and  his  face  was 
pale,  and  his  hair  erect,  and  his  coat  muddy,  the  spectacle 
he  presented  was  so  very  doleful,  that  neither  of  the  Miss 
Pecksniffs  could  repress  an  involuntary  screech. 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  I'm  better. "^ 

**  He's  come  to  himself  !  "  cried  the  youngest  Miss  Peck- 
sniff. 

"  He  speaks  again  !  "  exclaimed  the  eldest. 

With  these  joyful  words  they  kissed  Mr.  Pecksniff  on 
either  cheek,  and  bore  him  into  the  house.  Presently,  the 
youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  ran  out  again  to  pick  up  his  hat,  his 
brown  paper  parcel,  his  umbrella,  his  gloves,  and  other  small 
articles  ;  and  that  done  and  the  door  closed,  both  young 
ladies  applied  themselves  to  tending  Mr.  Pecksniff's  wounds 
in  the  back  parlor. 

They  were  not  very  serious  in  their  nature,  being  limited 
to  abrasions  on  what  the  eldest  Miss  Pecksniff  called  "  the 
knobby  parts  "  of  her  parent's  anatomy,  such  as  his  knees 
and  elbows,  and  to  the  development  of  an  entirely  new 
organ,  unknown  to  phrenologists,  on  the  back  of  his  head. 
These  injuries  having  been  comforted  externally,  with 
patches  of  pickled  brown  paper,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  having 
been  comforted  internally,  with  some  stiff  brandy  and  water, 
the  eldest  Miss  Pecksniff  sat  down  to  make  the  tea  which 
was  all  ready.  In  the  meantime,  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff 
brought  from  the  kitchen  a  smoking  dish  of  ham  and  eggs, 
and,  setting  the  same  before  her  father,  took  up  her  station 
on  a  low  stool  at  his  feet,  thereby  bringing  her  eyes  on  a 
level  with  the  teaboard. 


20  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  position  of  humility,  that 
the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  was  so  young  as  to  be,  as  one 
may  say,  forced  to  sit  upon  a  stool,  by  reason  of  the  shortness 
of  her  legs.  Miss  Pecksniff  sat  upon  a  stool,  because  of  her 
simplicity  and  innocence,  which  were  very  great — very  great. 
Miss  Pecksniff  sat  upon  a  stool,  because  she  was  all  girlish- 
ness,  and  playfulness,  and  wildness,  and  kittenish  buoyancy. 
She  was  the  most  arch  and  at  the  same  time,  the  most  artless 
creature,  was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff,  that  you  can  possi- 
bly image.  It  was  her  great  charm.  She  was  to©  fresh  and 
guileless,  and  too  full  of  child-like  vivacity,  was  the  youngest 
Miss  Pecksniff,  to  wear  combs  in  her  hair,  or  to  turn  it  up, 
or  to  frizzle  it  or  braid  it.  She  wore  it  in  a  crop,  a  loosely 
flowing  crop,  which  had  so  many  rows  of  curls  in  it,  that  the 
top  row  was  only  one  curl.  Moderately  buxom  was  her 
shape,  and  quite  womanly  too  ;  but  sometimes — yes,  some- 
times— she  even  wore  a  pinafore  ;  and  how  charming  that 
was  !  Oh  !  she  was  indeed  "  a  gushing  thing  "  (as  a  young 
gentleman  had  observed  in  verse,  in  the  poet's-corner  of  a 
provincial  newspaper),  was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  moral  man — a  grave  man,  a  man  of 
noble  sentiments,  and  speech  ;  and  he  had  had  her  christened 
Mercy.  Mercy  !  oh,  what  a  charming  name  for  such  a  pure- 
souled  being  as  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  !  Her  sister's 
name  was  Charity.  There  was  a  good  thing  !  Mercy  and 
Charity  !  And  Charity  with  her  fine  strong  sense,  and  her 
mild,  yet  not  reproachful  gravity,  was  so  well  named,  and  did 
so  well  set  off  and  illustrate  her  sister  !  What  a  pleasant 
sight  was  that,  the  contrast  they  presented  :  to  each  love 
and  loving  one  sympathizing  with  and  devoted  to,  and  leaning 
on,  and  yet  correcting  and  counter-checking,  and,  as  it  were, 
antidoting  the  other  !  To  behold  each  damsel  in  her  very  ad- 
miration of  her  sister,  setting  up  in  business  for  herself  on  an 
entirely  different  principle,  and  announcing  no  connection 
with  over-the-way,  and  if  the  quality  of  goods  at  that  estab- 
lishment don't  please  you,  you  are  respectfully  invited  to  favor 
ME  with  a  call  !  And  the  crowning  circumstance  of  the  whole 
delightful  catalogue  was,  that  both  the  fair  creatures  were  so 
utterly  unconscious  of  all  this  !  They  had  no  idea  of  it. 
They  no  more  thought  or  dreamed  of  it,  than  Mr.  Pecksniff 
did.  Nature  played  them  off  against  each  other  ;  they  had 
no  hand  in  it,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  moral 
man.     So  he  was.     Perhaps  there  never  was  a  more  moral 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  21 

man  than  Mr.  Pecksniff,  especially  in  his  conversation  and 
correspondence.  It  was  once  said  of  him  by  a  homely 
admirer,  that  he  had  a  Fortunatus's  purse  of  gold  sentiments 
in  his  inside.  In  this  particular  he  was  like  the  girl  in  the 
fairy  tale,  except  that  if  they  were  not  actual  diamonds 
which  fell  from  his  lips,  they  were  the  very  brightest  paste 
and  shone  prodigiously.  He  was  a  most  exemplary  man  ; 
fuller  of  virtuous  precept  than  a  copy-book.  Some  people 
likened  him  to  a  direction-post,  which  is  always  telling  the 
way  to  a  place,  and  never  goes  there  ;  but  these  were  his 
enemies — the  shadows  cast  by  his  brightness — that  was  all. 
His  very  throat  was  moral.  You  saw  a  good  deal  of  it.  You 
looked  over  a  very  low  fence  of  white  cravat  (whereof  no 
man  had  ever  beheld  the  tie,  for  he  fastened  it  behind), 
and  there  it  lay,  a  valley  between  two  jutting  heights  of  col- 
lar, serene  and  whiskerless  before  you.  It  seemeii  to  say, 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''There  is  no  deception,  ladies 
and  gentleman,  all  is  peace,  a  holy  calm  pervades  me."  So  did 
his  hair,  just  grizzled  with  an  iron-gray,  which  was  all 
brushed  off  his  forehead,  and  stood  bolt  upright,  or  slightly 
drooped  in  kindred  action  with  his  heavy  eyelids.  So  did 
his  person,  which  was  sleek  though  free  from  corpulency.  So 
did  his  manner,  which  was  soft  and  oily.  In  a  word,  even  his 
plain  black  suit,  and  state  of  widower,  and  dangling  double 
eye-glass,  all  tended  to  the  same  purpose,  and  cried  aloud, 
"  Behold  the  moral  Pecksniff !  " 

The  brazen  plate  upon  the  door  (which  being  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's, could  not  lie)  bore  this  inscription,  ''  Pecksniff, 
Architect,"  to  which  Mr.  Pecksniff,  on  his  cards  of  busi- 
ness added,  ''  and  Land  Surveyor."  In  one  sense,  and 
only  one,  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  a  land  surveyor  on  a 
pretty  large  scale,  as  an  extensive  prospect  lay  stretched 
out  before  the  windows  of  his  house.  Of  his  architectural 
doings,  nothing  was  clearly  known,  except  that  he  had  never 
designed  or  built  any  thing  ;  but  it  was  generally  understood 
that  his  knowledge  of  the  science  was  almost  awful  in  its 
profundity. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  professional  engagements,  indeed,  were 
almost,  if  not  entirely,  confined  to  the  reception  of  pupils  ; 
for  the  collection  of  rents,  with  which  pursuit  he  occasionally 
varied  and  relieved  his  graver  toils,  can  hardly  be  said  to  be 
a  strictly  architectural  employment.  His  genius  lay  in 
ensnaring  parents  and  guardians,  and  pocketing  premiums. 
A  young  gentleman's  premium   being  paid,   and   the  young 


22  MAP.TIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

gentleman  come  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  Mr.  Pecksniff  bor- 
rowed his  case  of  mathematical  instrum_ents  (if  silver- 
mounted  or  otherwise  valuable)  ;  entreated  him,  from  that 
moment,  to  consider  himself  one  of  the  family  ;  compli- 
mented him  highly  on  his  parents  or  guardians,  as  the  case 
might  be,  and  turned  him  loose  in  a  spacious  room  on  the 
two-pair  front,  where,  in  the  company  of  certain  drawing- 
Doards,  parallel  rulers,  very  stiff-legged  compasses,  and  two, 
or  perhaps  three,  other  young  gentlemen,  he  improved  him- 
self, for  three  or  five  years,  according  to  his  articles,  in  mak- 
ing elevations  of  Salisbury  Cathedral  from  every  possible 
point  of  sight ;  and  in  constructmg  in  the  air  a  vast  quantity 
of  castles,  houses  of  parliament,  and  other  public  buildings. 
Perhaps  in  no  place  in  the  world  were  so  many  gorgeous 
edifices  of  this  class  erected  as  under  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
auspices  ;  and  if  but  one-twentieth  part  of  the  churches 
which  were  built  in  that  front  room,  with  one  or  the  other  of 
the  Miss  Pecksniffs  at  the  altar  in  the  act  of  marrying  the 
architect,  could  only  be  made  available  by  the  parliamentary 
commissioners,  no  more  churches  would  be  wanted  for  at 
least  five  centuries. 

"  Even  the  worldly  goods  of  which  we  have  just  disposed," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff  glancing  round  the  table  when  he  had 
finished,  "  even  cream,  sugar,  tea,  toast,  ham, — " 

*'  And  eggs,"  suggested  Charity  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  eggs,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  even  they  have  their 
moral.  See  how  they  come  and  go  !  Every  pleasure  is 
transitory.  We  can't  even  eat,  long.  If  we  indulge  in 
harmless  fluids,  we  get  the  dropsy  ;  if  in  exciting  liquids, 
we  get  drunk.     What  a  soothing  reflection  is  that  !  " 

*'  Don't  say  we  get  drunk,  pa,"  urged  the  eldest  Miss 
Pecksniff. 

^'  When  I  say  we,  my  dear,"  returned  her  father,  **  I 
mean  mankind  in  general  ;  the  human  race,  considered 
as  a  body,  and  not  as  individuals.  There  is  nothing  per- 
sonal in  morality,  my  love.  Even  such  a  thing  as  this," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  laying  the  fore-finger  of  his  left  hand 
upon  the  brown  paper  patch  on  the  top  of  his  head, 
"  slight  casual  baldness  though  it  be,  reminds  us  that 
we  are  but  " — he  was  going  to  say  *'  worms,"  but  rec- 
ollecting that  worms  were  not  remarkable  for  heads  of  hair, 
he  substituted  "  flesh  and  blood." 

*'  Which,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  after  a  pause,  during  \\  hich 
he  seemed  to  have  been  casting  about  for  a  new  moral,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  23 

not  quite  successfully,  *'  which  is  also  very  soothing. 
Mercy,  my  dear,  stir  the  fire  and  throw  up  the  cinders." 

The  young  lady  obeyed,  and  having  done  so,  resumed  her 
stool,  reposed  one  arm  upon  her  father's  knee,  and  laid 
her  blooming  cheek  upon  it.  Miss  Charity  drew  her  chair 
nearer  the  fire  as  one  prepared  for  conversation,  and  looked 
toward  her  father. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  short  pause,  during 
which  he  had  been  silently  smiling,  and  shaking  his  head  at 
the  fire  ;  "  I  have  again  been  fortunate  in  the  attainment  of 
my  object.     A  new  mmate  will  very  shortly  conie  among  us." 

"  A  youth,  papa  ?  "  asked  Charity.  • 

*^Ye-es,  a  youth,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ''He  will  avail 
himself  of  the  eligible  opportunity  which  now  offers,  for 
uniting  the  advantages  of  the  best  practical  architectural 
education,  with  the  comforts  of  a  home,  and  the  constant 
association  with  some  who  (however  humble  their  sphere, 
and  limited  their  capacity)  are  not  unmindful  of  their  moral 
responsibilities." 

"  Oh  pa  ! "  cried  Mercy,  holding  up  her  finger  archly. 
*'  See  advertisement  !  " 

*'  Playful — playful  warbler,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  It  may 
be  observed  in  connection  with  his  calling  his  daughter  "  a 
warbler,"  that  she  was  not  at  all  vocal,  but  that  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff was  in  the  frequent  habit  of  using  any  word  that 
occurred  to  him  as  having  a  good  sound,  and  rounding  a 
sentence  well,  without  mucli  care  for  its  meaning.  And  he 
did  this  so  boldly,  and  in  such  an  imposing  manner,  that  he 
would  sometimes  stagger  the  wisest  people  with  his  elo- 
quence, and  make  them  gasp  again. 

His  enemies  asserted,  by  the  way,  that  a  strong  trustful- 
ness in  sounds  and  forms,  was  the  master-key  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's character. 

"  Is  he   handsome,  pa  ? "  inquired  the  younger  daughter. 

"  Silly  Merry  !  "  said  the  eldest — Merry  being  fond  for 
Mercy.     "  What  is  the  premium,  pa  ?   tell  us  that." 

"  Oh  good  gracious,  Cherry  !  "  cried  Miss  Mercy,  hold- 
ing up  her  hands  with  the  most  winning  giggle  in  the  world, 
*'  what  a  mercenary  girl  you  are  !  oh  you  naughty,  thought- 
ful, prudent  thing  !  " 

It  was  perfectly  charming,  and  worthy  of  the  pastoral 
age,  to  see  how  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  slapped  each  other 
after  this,  and  then  subsided  into  an  embrace  expressive  of 
their  different  dispositions. 


24  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  He  is  well  looking,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly ;  "  well  looking  enough.  I  do  not  positively  expect 
any  immediate  premium  with  him." 

Notwithstanding  their  different  natures,  both  Charity  and 
Mercy  concurred  in  opening  their  eyes  uncommonly  wide  at 
this  announcement,  and  in  looking  for  the  moment  as  blank 
as  if  their  thoughts  had  actually  had  a  direct  bearing  on  the 
main-chance. 

''  But  what  of  that  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  still  smiling  at 
the  fire.  "  There  is  disinterestedness  in  the  world,  I  hope  ? 
We  are  not  all  arrayed  in  two  opposite  ranks  ;  the  o/iensive 
and  the  rt'^fensive.  Some  few  there  are  who  walk  between  ; 
who  help  the  needy  as  they  go  ;  and  take  no  part  with 
either  side  ?     Umph  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  these  morsels  of  philanthropy 
which  reassured  the  sisters.  They  exchanged  glances,  and 
brightened  very  much. 

"  Oh  !  let  us  not  be  forever  calculating,  devising,  and 
plotting  for  the  future,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  more 
and  more,  and  looking  at  the  fire  as  a  man  might,  who  was 
cracking  a  joke  with  it  ;  "I  am  weary  of  such  arts.  If  our 
inclinations  are  but  good  and  open-hearted,  let  us  gratify 
them  boldly,  though  they  bring  upon  us,  loss  instead  of 
profit.     Eh,  Charity  ?  " 

Glancing  toward  his  daughters  for  the  first  time  since  he 
had  begun  these  reflections,  and  seeing  that  they  both 
smiled,  Mr.  Pecksniff  eyed  them  for  an  instant  so  jocosely 
(though  still  with  a  kind  of  saintly  waggishness)  that  the 
younger  one  was  moved  to  sit  upon  his  knee  forthwith,  put 
her  fair  arms  round  liis  neck,  and  kiss  him  twenty  times. 
During  the  whole  of  this  affectionate  display  she  laughed  to 
a  most  immoderate  extent  ;  in  which  hilarious  indulgence 
even  the  prudent  Cherry  joined. 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pushing  his  latest-born 
away  and  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  as  he 
resumed  his  tranquil  face.  "  What  folly  is  this  !  Let  us 
take  heed  how  we  laugh  without  reason,  lest  we  cry  with  it. 
What  is  the  domestic  news  since  yesterday  ?  John  West- 
lock  is  gone,  I  hope  ?  " 

'*  Indeed  no,"  said  Charity. 

*'  And  why  not  ?  "  returned  her  father.  "  His  term  expired 
yesterday.  And  his  box  was  packed,  I  know  ;  for  I  saw  it 
in  the  morning,  standing  in  the  hall." 

*'  He  slept    last     night    at    the    Dragon,"    returned    \hi 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWJT.  25 

young  lady,  "  and  had  Mr.  Pinch  to  dine  with  him.  They 
spent  the  evening  together,  and  Mr.  Pinch  was  not  home 
till  very  late." 

"  And  when  I  saw  him  on  the  stairs  this  morning,  pa," 
said  Mercy  with  her  usual  sprightliness,  "  he  looked,  oh  good- 
ness, such  a  monster  !  with  his  face  all  manner  of  colors, 
and  his  eyes  as  dull  as  if  they  had  been  boiled,  and  his  head 
aching  dreadfully,  I  am  sure  from  the  look  of  it,  and  his 
clothes  smelling,  oh  it's  impossible  to  say  how  strong  of  " 
— here  the  young  lady  shuddered — "of  smoke  and  punch." 

"  Now  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  accustomed 
gentleness,  though  still  with  the  air  of  one  who  suffered  under 
injur}'  without  complaint,  "  I  think  Mr.  Pinch  might  have 
done  better  than  choose  for  his  companion  one  who,  at  the 
close  of  a  long  intercourse,  had  endeavored,  as  he  knew,  to 
wound  my  feelings.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  this  was  deli- 
cate in  Mr.  Pinch.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  this  was  kind 
in  Mr.  Pinch.  I  will  go  further  and  say,  I  am  not  quite 
sure  that  this  was  even  ordinarily  grateful  in   Mr.   Pinch." 

"  But  what  can  anyone  expect  from  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  cried 
Charity,  with  as  strong  and  scornful  an  emphasis  on  the 
name  as  if  it  would  have  given  her  unspeakable  pleasure  to 
express  it,  in  an  acted  charade,  on  the  calf  of  that  gentle- 
man's leg. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  returned  her  father,  raising  his  hand  mildly  ; 
"  it  is  very  well  to  say  what  can  we  expect  from  Mr,  Pinch, 
but  Mr.  Pinch  is  a  fellow-creature,  my  dear  ;  Mr.  Pinch  is 
an  item  in  the  vast  total  of  humanity,  my  love;  and  we  have 
a  right,  it  is  our  duty,  to  expect  in  Mr.  Pinch  some  devel- 
opment of  those  better  qualities,  the  possession  of  which  in 
our  own  persons  inspires  our  humble  self-respect.  No," 
continued  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  No!  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
say,  nothing  can  be  expected  from  Mr.  Pinch  ;  or  that  I 
should  say,  nothing  can  be  expected  from  any  man  alive 
(even  the  most  degraded,  which  Mr.  Pinch  is  not,  no  really); 
but  Mr,  Pinch  has  disappointed  me  ;  I  think  a  little  the 
worse  of  him  on  this  account,  but  not  of  human  nature. 
Oh  no,  no  !  " 

Hark  !  "  said  Miss  Charity,  holding  up  her  finger,  as  a 
gentle  rap  was  heard  at  the  street-door.  ''  There  is  the  creat- 
ure !  Now  mark  my  words,  he  has  come  back  with  John 
Westlock  for  his  box,  and  is  going  to  help  him  to  take  it  to 
the  mail.  Only  mark  my  words,  if  that  isn't  his  inten- 
tion!" 


26  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  box  appeared  to  be  in  progress  of 
conveyance  from  the  house,  but  after  a  brief  murmuring 
of  question  and  answer,  it  was  put  down  again,  and  some- 
body knocked  at  the  parlor  door. 

*'  Come  in  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff — not  severely  ;  only 
virtuously.     "  Come  in  !  " 

An  ungainly,  awkward-looking  man,  extremely  short- 
sighted, and  prematurely  bald,  availed  himself  of  this  per- 
mission ;  and  seeing  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  sat  with  his  back 
toward  him,  gazing  at  the  fire,  stood  hesitating,  with  the 
door  in  his  hand.  He  was  far  from  handsome  certainly  ; 
and  was  dressed  in  a  snuff-colored  suit,  of  an  uncouth  make 
at  the  best,  which  being  shrunk  with  long  wear,  was  twisted 
and  tortured  into  all  kinds  of  shapes  ;  but  notwithstanding 
his  attire,  and  his  clumsy  figure,  which  a  great  stoop  in  his 
shoulders,  and  a  ludicrous  habit  he  had  of  thrusting  his 
head  forward,  by  no  means  redeemed,  one  would  not  have 
been  disposed  (unless  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  so)  to  consider  him 
a  bad  fellow  by  any  means.  He  was  perhaps  about  thirty, 
but  he  might  have  been  almost  any  age  between  sixteen  and 
sixty;  being  one  of  those  strange  creatures  who  never  decline 
into  an  ancient  appearance,  but  look  their  oldest  when  they 
are  very  young,  and  get  it  over  at  once. 

Keeping  his  hand  upon  the  lock  of  the  door,  he  glanced 
from  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  Mercy,  from  Mercy  to  Charity,  and  from 
Charity  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  again,  several  times  ;  but  the  young 
ladies  being  as  intent  upon  the  fire  as  their  father  was,  and 
neither  of  the  three  taking  any  notice  of  him,  he  was  fain  to 
say,  at  last, 

''  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  I  beg  your 
pardon  for  intruding  ;  but — " 

"  No  intrusion,  Mr.  Pinch,'*  said  the  gentleman  very 
sweetly,  but  without  looking  round.  "  Pray  be  seated,  Mr. 
Pinch.  Have  the  goodness  to  shut  the  door,  Mr.  Pinch,  if 
you  please." 

*'  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Pinch  ;  not  doing  so,  however,  but 
holding  it  rather  wider  open  than  before,  and  beckoning  ner- 
vously to  somebody  without  ;  *'  Mr.  Westlock,  sir,  hearing 
that  you  were  coming  home — " 

*'  Mr.  Pinch,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  said  Pecksniff,  wheeling  his 
chair  about,  and  looking  at  him  with  an  aspect  of  the  decp- 
esLmelancholy,  "  I  did  not  expect  this  from  you.  I  ha\e 
not  deserved  this  from  you  !  " 

"  No,  but  upon  my  word,  sir  " — urged  Pinch, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  27 

"  The  less  you  say,  Mr.  Pinch,"  interposed  the  other, 
"  the  better.     I  utter  no  complaint.     Make  no  defense." 

"  No,  but  do  have  the  goodness,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pinch, 
with  great  earnestness,  *'  if  you  please.  Mr.  Westlock,  sir, 
going  away  for  good  and  all,  wishes  to  leave  none  but 
friends  behind  him.  Mr.  Westlock  and  you,  sir,  had  a 
little  difference  the  other  day  ;  you  have  had  many  little 
differences." 

"  Little  differences  !  "  cried  Charity. 

*'  Little  differences  !  "  echoed  Mercy. 

"  My  loves  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  the  same  serene 
upraising  of  his  hand  ;  "  my  dears  !  "  After  a  solemn  pause 
he  meekly  bowed  to  Mr.  Pinch,  as  who  should  say,  "  Pro- 
ceed ; "  but  Mr.  Pinch  was  so  very  much  at  a  loss  how  to 
resume,  and  looked  so  helplessly  at  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs, 
that  the  conversation  would  most  probably  have  terminated 
there,  if  a  good-looking  youth,  newly  arrived  at  man's 
estate,  had  not  stepped  forward  from  the  doorway  and  taken 
up  the  thread  of  the  discourse. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  don't  let 
there  be  any  ill-blood  between  us,  pray.  I  am  sorry  we  have 
ever  differed,  and  extremely  sorry  I  have  ever  given  you 
offense.     Bear  me  no  ill-will  at  parting,  sir." 

"I  bear,"  answered  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly,  "no  ill  will  to 
any  man  on  earth." 

"  I  told  you  he  didn't,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  in  an  undertone  ; 
*'  I  knew  he  didn't !     He  always  says  he  don't." 

"  Then  you  will  shake  hands,  sir  ? "  cried  Westlock, 
advancing  a  step  or  two,  and  bespeaking  Mr.  Pmch's  clos^ 
attention  by  a  glance. 

''  Umph  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  most  winning  tone. 

"  You  will  shake  hands,  sir." 

"  No,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  calmness  quite 
ethereal  ;  "  no,  I  will  not  shake  hands,  John.  I  have  for- 
given you.  I  had  already  forgiven  you,  even  before  you 
ceased  to  reproach  and  taunt  me.  I  have  embraced  you  in 
the  spirit,  John,  which  is  better  than  shaking  hands." 

'^  Pinch,"  said  the  youth  turning  toward  him,  with  a  hearty 
disgust  of  his  late  master,  "  what  did  I  tell  you  ? " 

Poor  Pinch  looked  down  uneasily,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  whose 
eye  was  fixed  upon  him  as  it  had  been  from  the  first. 

"As  to  your  forgiveness,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  the  youth. 
**  I'll  not  have  it  upon  such  terms.     I  won't  be  forgiven." 

*'  Won't   you,  John  ? "    retorted    Mr.    Pecksniff,    with    a 


2^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

smile.  "  You  must.  You  can't  help  it.  Forgiveness  is  a 
high  quality  ;  an  exalted  virtue  ;  far  above  your  control  or 
influence,  John.  I  im'//  forgive  you.  You  can  not  move  me 
to  remember  any  wrong  you  have  ever  done  me,  John." 

"  Wrong  !  "  cried  the  other,  with  all  the  heat  and  impetu- 
osity of  his  age.  "  Here's  a  pretty  fellow  !  Wrong  !  Wrong 
I  have  done  him  !  He'll  not  even  remember  the  five  hund- 
red pounds  he  had  with  me  under  false  pretenses  ;  or  the 
seventy  pounds  a-year  for  board  and  lodging  that  would 
have  been  dear  at  seventeen  !     Here's  a  martyr  !  " 

"  Money,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is  the  root  of  all 
evil.  I  grieve  to  see  that  it  is  already  bearing  evil  fruit  in 
you.  But  I  will  not  remember  its  existence.  1  will  not 
even  remember  the  conduct  of  that  misguided  person  " — 
and  here,  although  he  spoke  like  one  at  peace  with  all  the 
world,  he  used  emphasis  that  plainly  said  *'  I  have  my  eye  on 
the  rascal  now" — "  that  misguided  person  that  has  brought 
you  here  to-night,  seeking  to  disturb  (it  is  a  happiness  to  say, 
in  vain)  the  heart's  repose  and  peace  of  one  who  would  have 
shed  his  dearest  blood  to  serve  him." 

The  voice  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  trembled  as  he  spoke,  and  sobs 
were  heard  from  his  daughters.  Sounds  floated  on  the  air, 
moreover,  as  if  two  spirit  voices  had  exclaimed  ;  one 
"  beast  !  "  and  the  other  "  savage  !  " 

"  Forgiveness,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  entire  and  pure  for- 
giveness is  not  incompatible  with  a  wounded  heart  ;  per- 
chance when  the  lieart  is  wounded,  it  becomes  a  greater  vir- 
tue. With  my  breast  still  wrung  and  grieved  to  its  inmost 
core  by  the  ingratitude  of  that  person,  I  am  proud  and  glad 
to  say,  that  I  forgive  him.  Nay  !  I  beg,"  cried  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, raising  his  voice,  as  Pinch  appeared  about  to  speak, 
"  I  beg  that  individual  not  to  offer  a  remark  ;  he  will  truly 
oblige  me  by  not  uttering  one  word,  just  now.  1  am  not 
sure  that  I  am  equal  to  the  trial.  In  a  very  short  space  of 
time,  I  shall  have  sufficient  fortitude,  I  trust,  to  converse 
with  him  as  if  these  events  had  never  happened.  Put  not," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  round  again  toward  the  fire,  and 
waving  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  ''not  now." 

"  Bah  !  "  cried  John  Westlock,  with  the  utmost  disgust 
and  disdain  the  monosyllable  is  cai)able  of  ex})ressing. 
'*  Ladies,  good  evening.  Come,  Pinch,  it's  not  worth  think- 
ing of.  I  was  right  and  you  were  wrong.  That's  a  small 
matter;  you'll  be  wiser  another  time." 

So   saying,  he   clapped   that   dejected   companion  on  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  29 

shoulder,  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  walked  out  into  the  pas- 
sage whither  poor  Mr.  Pinch,  after  lingering  irresolutely  in 
the  parlor  for  a  few  seconds,  expressing  in  his  countenance 
the  deepest  mental  misery  and  gloom,  followed  him.  Then 
they  took  up  the  box  between  them,  and  sallied  out  to  meet 
the  mail. 

That  fleet  conveyance  passed,  every  night,  the  corner  of  a 
lane  at  some  distance;  toward  which  point  they  bent  their 
steps.  For  some  minutes  they  walked  along  in  silence,  until 
at  length  young  Westlock  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  at 
intervals  into  another,  and  another.  Still  there  was  no 
response  from  his  companion. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what.  Pinch!  "  he  said  abruptly,  after  another 
lengthened  silence,  "  you  haven't  half  enough  of  the  devil  in 
you.     Half  enough!     You  haven't  any." 

"Well!"  said  Pinch,  with  a  sigh,  "I  don't  know,  I'm 
sure.  It's  a  compliment  to  say  so.  If  I  haven't,  I  suppose, 
I'm  all  the  better  for  it." 

"All  the  better!  "  repeated  his  companion  tartly;  **all  the 
worse,  you  mean  to  say." 

"And  yet,"  said  Pinch,  pursuing  his  own  thoughts  and 
not  this  last  remark  on  the  part  of  his  friend,  "  I  must  have 
a  good  deal  of  what  you  call  the  devil  in  me,  too,  or  how 
could  I  make  Pecksniff  so  uncomfortable  ?  I  wouldn't  have 
occasioned  him  so  much  distress — don't  laugh,  please — for  a 
mine  of  money;  and  heaven  knows  I  could  find  good  use  for 
it,  too,  John.     How  grieved  he  was!  " 

^^  He  grieved!  "  returned  the  other. 

"  Why,  didn't  you  observe  that  the  tears  were  almost  start- 
ing out  of  his  eyes!  "  cried  Pinch.  "  Bless  my  soul,  John, 
is  it  nothing  to  see  a  man  moved  to  that  extent  and  know 
one's  self  to  be  the  cause!  and  did  you  hear  him  say  that  he 
could  have  shed  his  blood  for  me  ? " 

"  Do  you  2£/«///  any  blood  shed  for  you?"  returned  his 
friend,  with  considerable  irritation.  "  Does  he  shed  any 
thing  for  you  that  you  do  want  ?  Does  he  shed  employment 
for  you,  instruction  for  you,  pocket-money  for  you  ?  Does 
he  shed  even  legs  of  mutton  for  you  in  any  decent  propor- 
tion to  potatoes  and  garden  stuff?" 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Pinch,  sighing  again,  "  that  I  am  a 
great  eater;  I  can't  disguise  from  myself  that  I'm  a  great 
eater.     Now,  you  know  that,  John." 

"  You  a  great  eater!  "  retorted  his  companion,  with  no  less 
indignation  than  before.     "  How  do  you  know  you  are  ?  " 


30  ,       MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

There  appeared  to  be  forcible  matter  in  this  inquiry,  for 
Mr.  Pinch  only  repeated  in  an  undertone  that  he  had  a 
strong  misgiving  on  the  subject,  and  that  he  greatly  feared 
he  was. 

"  Besides,  whether  I  am  or  no,"  he  added,  "  that  has  little 
or  nothing  to  do  with  his  thinking  me  ungrateful.  John, 
there  is  scarcely  a  sin  in  the  world  that  is  in  my  eyes  such  a 
crying  one  as  ingratitude;  and  whefi  he  taxes  me  with  that, 
and  believes  me  to  be  guilty  of  it,  he  makes  me  miserable 
and  wretched." 

"  Do  you  think  he  don't  know  that  ? "  returned  the  other 
scornfully.  "  But  come,  Pinch,  before  I  say  any  thing  more 
to  you,  just  run  over  the  reasons  you  have  for  being 
grateful  to  him  at  all,  will  you  ?  Change  hands  first,  for  the 
box  is  heavy.     That'll  do.     Now,  go  on." 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Pinch,  "  he  took  me  as  his  pupil 
for  much  less  than  he  asked." 

''  Well,"  rejoined  his  friend,  perfectly  unmoved  by  this 
instance  of  generosity.     ''  What  in  the  second  place  ?  " 

"  What  in  the  second  place!  "  cried  Pinch,  in  a  sort  of 
desperation,  "  why,  every  thing  in  the  second  place.  My 
poor  old  grandmother  died  happy  to  think  that  she  had  put 
me  with  such  an  excellent  man.  I  have  grown  up  in  his 
house,  I  am  in  his  confidence,  I  am  his  assistant,  he  allows 
me  a  salary;  when  his  business  improves,  my  prospects  are 
to  improve,  too.  All  this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  is  in  the 
second  place.  And  in  the  very  prologue  and  preface  to  the 
first  place,  John,  you  must  consider  this,  which  nobody 
knows  better  than  I;  that  I  was  born  for  much  plainer  and 
poorer  things,  that  I  am  not  a  good  hand  for  this  kind  of 
business,  and  have  no  talent  for  it,  or  indeed  for  any  thing 
else  but  odds  and  ends  that  are  of  no  use  or  service  to  any 
body." 

He  said  this  with  so  much  earnestness,  and  in  a  tone  so 
full  of  feeling,  that  his  companion  instinctively  changed  his 
manner  as  he  sat  down  on  the  box  (they  had  by  this  time 
reached  the  finger-post  at  the  end  of  the  lane);  motioned 
him  to  sit  down  beside  him;  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  I  believe  you  are  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world," 
he  said,  "Tom  Pinch." 

"  Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Tom.  "If  you  only  knew  Peck- 
sniff as  well  as  I  do,  you  might  say  it  of  him,  indeed,  and  say 
it  truly." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  31 

"  I'll  say  any  thing  of  him,  you  like,"  returned  the  other, 
*•  and  not  another  word  to  his  disparagement." 

"  It's  for  my  sake,  then  ;  not  his,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Pinch 
shaking  his  head  gravely. 

"  For  whose  you  please,  Tom,  so  that  it  does  please  you. 
Oh  !  He's  a  famous  fellow  !  jie  never  scraped  and  clawed 
into  his  pouch  all  your  poor  grandmother's  hard  savings — she 
was  a  housekeeper,  wasn't  she,  Tom  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  nursing  one  of  his  large  knees, 
and  nodding  his  head;  ^*  a  gentleman's  housekeeper." 

"  He  never  scraped  and  clawed  into  his  pouch  all  her 
hard  savings;  dazzling  her  with  prospects  of  your  happiness 
and  advancement,  which  he  knew  (and  no  man  better)  never 
would  be  realized  !  He  never  speculated  and  traded  on  her 
pride  in  you,  and  her  having  educated  you,  and  on  her 
desire  that  you  at  least  should  live  to  be  a  gentleman.  Not 
he,  Tom  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  looking  into  his  friend's  face,  as  if  he 
were  a  little  doubtful  of  his  meaning  ;  ''  of  course  not." 

"  So  I  say,"  returned  the  youth,  "  of  course  he  never  did. 
He  didn't  take  less  than  he  had  asked,  because  that  less  was 
all  she  had,  and  more  than  he  expected  ;  not  he,  Tom  !  He 
doesn't  keep  you  as  his  assistant  because  you  are  of  any  use 
to  him  ;  because  your  wonderful  faith  in  his  pretensions  is 
of  inestimable  service  in  all  his  mean  disputes  ;  because 
your  honesty  reflects  honesty  on  him  ;  because  your  wander- 
ing about  this  little  place  all  your  spare  hours,  reading  in 
ancient  books  and  foreign  tongues,  gets  noised  abroad,  even 
as  far  as  Salisbury,  m^aking  of  him,  Pecksniff  the  master,  a 
man  of  learning  and  of  vast  importance.  He  gets  no  credit 
from  you,  Tom,  not  he." 

''  Why,  of  course  he  don't,"  said  Pinch,  gazing  at  his 
friend  with  a  more  troubled  aspect  than  before.  "  Peck- 
sniff get  credit  from  me  !     Well  !  " 

''  Don't  I  say  that  it's  ridiculous,"  rejoined  the  other, 
"  even  to  think  of  such  a  thing  ? " 

**  Why,  it's  madness,"  said  Tom. 

"  Madness  !  "  returned  young  Westlock.  ''  Certainly,  it's 
madness.  Who  but  a  madman  would  suppose  he  cares  to 
hear  it  said  on  Sundays,  that  the  volunteer  who  plays  the 
organ  in  the  church,  and  practices  on  summer  evenings  in 
the  dark  is  Mr.  Pecksniff's  young  man,  eh,  Tom  ?  Who  but 
a  madman  would  suppose  it  is  the  game  of  such  a  man  as  he, 
to  have  his  name  in  every  body's  mouth,  connected  with  the 


3^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

thousand  useless  odds  and  ends  you  do  (and  which,  ot 
course,  he  taught  you),  eh,  Tom  ?  Who  but  a  madman 
would  suppose  you  advertised  him  hereabouts,  much  cheaper 
and  much  better  than  a  chalker  on  the  walls  could,  eh, 
Tom  ?  As  well  might  one  suppose  that  he  doesn't  on  all 
occasions  pour  out  his  whole,  heart  and  soul  to  you  ;  that  he 
doesn't  make  you  a  very  liberal  and  indeed  rather  an  extrav- 
agant allowance;  or,  to  be  more  wild  and  monstrous  still,  if 
that  be  possible,  as  well  might  one  suppose,"  and  here,  at 
every  word,  he  struck  him  lightly  on  the  breast,  ^'  that  Peck- 
sniff traded  in  your  nature,  and  that  your  nature  was,  to  be 
timid  and  distrustful  of  yourself,  and  trustful  of  all  other 
men,  but  most  of  all,  of  him  who  least  deserves  it.  There 
would  be  madness,  Tom  !  " 

Mr.  Pinch  had  listened  to  all  this  with  looks  of  bewilder- 
ment, which  seemed  to  be  in  part  occasioned  by  the  matter 
of  his  companion's  speech,  and  in  part  by  his  rapid  and 
vehement  manner.  Now  that  he  had  come  to  a  close,  he 
drew  a  very  long  breath  ;  and  gazing  wistfully  in  his  face 
as  if  he  were  unable  to  settle  in  his  own  mind  what  expres- 
sion it  wore,  and  were  desirous  to  draw  from  it  as  good  a 
clew  to  his  real  meaning  as  it  was  possible  to  obtain  in  the 
dark,  was  about  to  answer,  when  the  sound  of  the  mail 
guard's  horn  came  cheerily  upon  their  ears,  putting  an 
immediate  end  to  the  conference  :  greatly  as  it  seemed  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  younger  man,  who  jumped  up  briskly, 
and  gave  his  hand  to  his  companion. 

"  Both  hands,  Tom.  I  shall  write  to  you  from  London, 
mind  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pinch.  ''  Yes.  "  Yes.  Do,  please.  Good- 
by.  I  can  hardly  believe  you're  going.  It  seems,  now,  but 
yesterday  that  you  came.  Good-by  !  my  dear  old  fellow  !  " 
John  Westlock  returned  his  parting  words  with  no  less  hearti- 
ness of  manner,  and  sprung  up  to  his  seat  upon  the  roof. 
Off  went  the  mail  at  a  canter  down  the  dark  road  ;  the  lamps 
gleaming  brightly,  and  the  horn  awakening  all  the  echoes, 
far  and  wide. 

"  Go  your  way,"  said  Pinch,  apostrophizing  the  coach;  *'  I 
can  hardly  persuade  myself  but  you're  alive,  and  are  some 
great  monster  who  visits  this  place  at  certain  intervals,  to 
bear  my  friends  away  into  the  world.  You're  more  exulting 
and  rampant  than  usual  to-night,  I  think;  and  you  may  well 
crow  over  your  prize  ;  for  he  is  a  fine  lad,  an  ingenuous  lad, 
and  has  but  one  fault  that  I  know  of;  he  don't  mean  it,  but 
be  is  most  cruelly  unjust  to  Pecksniff  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  33 


CHAPTER  HI. 

IN     WHICH     CERTAIN    OTHER    PERSONS   ARE    INTRODUCED  :    ON 
THE    SAME    TERMS    AS    IN    THE    LAST    CHAPTER. 

Mention  has  been  already  made  more  than  once  of  a  cer- 
tain dragon  who  swung  and  creaked  complainingly  before 
the  village  ale-house  door.  A  faded,  and  an  ancient  dragon 
he  was  ;  and  many  a  wintry  storm  of  rain,  snow,  sleet,  and 
hail  had  changed  his  color  from  a  gaudy  blue  to  a  faint  lack- 
luster shade  of  gray.  But  there  he  hung,  rearing,  in  a  state 
of  monstrous  imbecility,  on  his  hind  legs  ;  waxing,  with 
every  month  that  passed,  so  much  more  dim  and  shapeless, 
that  as  you  gazed  at  him  on  one  side  of  the  sign-board  it 
seemed  as  if  he  must  be  gradually  melting  through  it,  and 
coming  out  upon  the  other.  He  was  a  courteous  and  con- 
siderate dragon  too  ;  or  had  been  in  his  distincter  days  ;  for 
in  the  midst  of  his  rampant  feebleness,  he  kept  one  of  his 
fore  paws  near  his  nose,  as  though  he  would  say,  "  Don't 
mind  me — it's  only  my  fun;  "  while  he  held  out  the  other,  in 
polite  and  hospitable  entreaty.  Indeed  it  must  be  conceded 
to  the  whole  brood  of  dragons  of  modern  times,  that  they 
have  made  a  great  advance  in  civilization  and  refinement. 
They  no  longer  demand  a  beautiful  virgin  for  breakfast 
every  morning,  with  as  much  regularity  as  any  tame  single 
gentleman  expects  his  hot  roll,  but  rest  content  with  the 
society  of  idle  bachelors  and  roving  married  men  ;  and  they 
are  now  remarkable  rather  for  holding  aloof  irom  the  softer 
sex  and  discouraging  their  visits  (especially  on  Saturday 
nights),  than  for  rudely  insisting  on  their  company  without 
any  reference  to  their  inclinations,  as  they  are  known  to 
have  done  in  days  of  yore. 

Nor  is  this  tribute  to  the  reclaimed  animals  in  question  so 
wide  a  digression  into  the  realms  of  natural  history,  as  it 
may,  at  first  sight,  appear  to  be  ;  for  the  present  business  of 
these  pages  is  with  the  dragon  who  had  his  retreat  in  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  neighborhood,  and  that  courteous  animal  being 
already  on  the  carpet,  there  is  nothing  in  the  way  of  its 
immediate  transaction. 

For  many  years,  then,  he  had  swung  and  creaked,  and 
flapped  himself  about,  before  the  two  windows  of  the  best 
bed-room  in  that  house  of  entertainment  to  which  he  lent 
his  name  ;  but  never  in  all  his  swinging,  creaking  and  flap- 


34  MARTIN  CHU^ZLEWIT. 

ping,  had  there  been  such  a  stir  within  its  dingy  precincts, 
as  on  the  evening  next  after  that  upon  which  the  incidents, 
detailed  in  the  last  chapter,  occurred  ;  when  there  was  such 
a  hurrying  up  and  down  stairs  of  feet,  such  a  glancing  of 
lights,  such  a  whispering  of  voices,  such  a  smoking  and 
sputtering  of  wood  newly  lighted  in  a  damp  chimney,  such 
an  airing  of  linen,  such  a  scorching  smell  of  hot  warming- 
pans,  such  a  domestic  bustle  and  to-do,  in  short,  as  never 
dragon,  griffin,  unicorn  or  other  animal  of  that  species  pre- 
sided over,  since  they  first  began  to  interest  themselves  in 
household  affairs. 

An  old  gentleman  and  a  young  lady,  traveling,  unattended, 
in  a  rusty  old  chariot  with  post-horses  ;  coming  nobody 
knew  whence,  and  going  nobody  knew  whither  ;  had  turned 
out  of  the  high  road,  and  driven  unexpectedly  to  the  Blue 
Dragon  ;  and  here  was  the  old  gentleman,  who  had  taken 
this  step  by  reason  of  his  sudden  illness  in  the  carriage,  suf- 
fering the  most  horrible  cramps  and  spasms,  yet  protesting 
and  vowing  in  the  very  midst  of  his  pain  that  he  wouldn't 
have  a  doctor  sent  for,  and  wouldn't  take  any  remedies  but 
those  which  the  young  lady  administered  from  a  small  medi- 
cine-chest, and  wouldn't,  in  a  word,  do  any  thing  but  terrify 
the  landlady  out  of  her  five  wits,  and  obstinately  refuse 
compliance  with  every  suggestion  that  was  made  to  him. 

Of  all  the  five  hundred  proposals  for  his  relief  which  the 
good  woman  poured  out  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  he  would 
entertain  but  one.  That  was,  that  he  should  go  to  bed. 
And  it  was  in  the  preparation  of  his  bed,  and  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  chamber,  that  all  the  stir  was  made  in  the  room 
behind  the  dragon. 

He  was,  beyond  all  question,  very  ill,  and  suffered  ex- 
ceedingly ;  not  the  less,  perhaps,  because  he  was  a  strong 
and  vigorous  old  man,  with  a  will  of  iron,  and  a  voice  of 
brass.  But  neither  the  apprehensions  which  he  plainly 
entertained,  at  times,  for  his  life,  nor  the  great  pain  he 
underwent,  influenced  his  resolution  in  the  least  degree.  He 
would  have  no  person  sent  for.  The  worse  he  grew,  the 
more  rigid  and  inflexible  he  became  in  his  determination.  If 
they  sent  for  any  person  to  attend  him.  man,  woman,  or 
child,  he  would  leave  the  house  directly  (so  he  told  them), 
though  he  quitted  it  on  foot,  and  died  upon  the  threshold  of 
the  door. 

Now,  there  being  no  medical  practitioner  actually  resi- 
dent in  the  village  but  a  poor  apothecary,  who  was  also  a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  35 

grocer  and  general  dealer,  the  landlady  had,  upon  her  own 
responsibility,  sent  for  him,  in  the  very  first  burst  and  out- 
set of  the  disaster.  Of  course  it  followed,  as  a  necessary 
result  of  his  being  wanted,  that  he  was  not  at  home.  He 
had  gone  some  miles  away,  and  was  not  expected  home  until 
late  at  night  ;  so,  the  landlady,  bemg  by  this  time  pretty 
well  beside  herself,  dispatched  the  same  messenger  in  all 
haste  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  a  learned  man  who  could  bear  a 
deal  of  responsibility,  and  a  moral  man  who  could  adminis- 
ter a  word  of  comfort  to  a  troubled  mind.  That  her  guest 
had  need  of  some  efficient  services  under  the  latter  head  was 
obvious  enough  from  the  restless  expressions,  importing, 
however,  rather  a  worldly  than  a  spiriting  1  anxiety,  to  which 
he  gave  frequent  utterance. 

From  this  last-mentioned  secret  errand  the  messenger 
returned  with  no  better  news  than  from  the  first  ;  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff was  not  at  home.  However,  they  got  the  patient  into 
bed  without  him  ;  and  in  the  course  of  two  ho?irs,  he  grad- 
ually became  so  far  better  that  there  were  much  longer  inter- 
vals than  at  first  between  his  terms  of  suffering.  By  degrees, 
he  ceased  to  suffer  at  all,  though  his  exhaustion  was  occa- 
sionally so  great,  that  it  suggested  hardly  less  alarm  than  his 
actual  endurance  had  done. 

It  was  in  one  of  his  intervals  of  repose,  when,  looking 
round  with  great  caution,  and  reaching  uneasily  cut  of  his 
nest  of  pillows,  he  endeavored,  with  a  strange  air  of  secrecy 
and  distrust,  to  make  use  of  the  writing  materials  which  he 
had  ordered  to  be  placed  on  a  table  beside  him,  that  the 
young  lady  and  the  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  found 
themselves  sitting  side  by  side  before  the  fire  in  the  sick 
chamber. 

This  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon  was  in  outward  appear- 
ance just  what  a  landlady  should  be  ;  broad,  buxom,  com- 
fortable, and  good-looking,  with  a  face  of  clear  red  and 
white,  which,  by  its  jovial  aspect,  at  once  bore  testimony  to 
her  hearty  participation  in  the  good  things  of  the  larder  and 
cellar,  and  to  their  thriving  and  healthful  influences.  She  was 
a  widow,  but  years  ago  had  passed  through  her  state  of 
weeds,  and  burst  into  flower  again  ;  and  in  full  bloom  she 
had  continued  ever  since  ;  and  in  full  bloom  she  was  now  ; 
with  roses  on  her  ample  skirts,  and  roses  on  her  bodice, 
roses  in  her  cap,  roses  in  her  cheeks — ay,  and  roses  worth 
the  gathering  too,  on  her  lips,  for  that  matter.  She  had 
still  a  bright  black  eye,  and  jet  black  hair  ;    was  comely, 


36  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

dimpled,  plump,  and  tight  as  a  gooseberry  ;  and  though  she 
was  not  exactly  what  the  world  calls  young,  you  may  make 
an  affidavit,  on  trust,  before  any  mayor  or  magistrate  in 
Christendom,  that  there  are  a  great  many  young  ladies  in 
the  world  (blessings  on  them,  one  and  all  !)  whom  you 
wouldn't  like  half  as  well,  or  admire  half  as  much,  as  the 
beaming  hostess  of  the  Blue  Dragon. 

As  this  fair  matron  sat  beside  the  fire,  she  glanced  occa- 
sionally, with  all  the  pride  of  ownership,  about  the  room  ; 
which  was  a  large  apartment,  such  as  one  may  see  in  country 
places,  with  a  low  roof  and  a  sunken  flooring,  all  down-hill 
from  the  door,  and  a  descent  of  two  steps  on  the  inside  so 
exquisitely  unexpected,  that  strangers,  despite  the  most  elab- 
orate cautioning,  usually  dived  in  head-first,  as  into  a  plung- 
ing bath.  It  was  none  of  your  frivolous  and  preposterously 
bright  bed-rooms,  where  nobody  can  close  an  eye  with  any 
kind  of  propriety  or  decent  regard  to  the  association  of 
ideas  ;  but  it  was  a  good,  dull,  leaden,  drowsy  place,  where 
every  article  of  furniture  reminded  you  that  you  came  there 
to  sleep,  and  that  you  were  expected  to  go  to  sleep.  There 
w^as  no  wakeful  reflection  of  the  fire  there,  as  in  your  mod- 
ern chambers,  which  upon  the  darkest  nights  have  a  watch- 
ful consciousness  of  French  polish  ;  the  old  Spanish  mahog- 
any winked  at  it  now  and  then,  as  a  dozing  cat  or  dog  might, 
nothing  more.  The  very  size  and  shape,  and  hopeless 
immovability,  of  the  bedstead,  and  wardrobe,  and  in  a  minor 
degree  of  even  the  chairs  and  tables,  provoked  sleep  ;  they 
were  plainly  apoplectic  and  disposed  to  snore.  There  were 
no  staring  portraits  to  remonstrate  with  you  for  being  lazy  ; 
no  round-eyed  birds  upon  the  curtains,  disgustingly  wide 
awake,  and  insufferably  prying.  The  thick  neutral  hang- 
ings, and  the  dark  blinds,  and  the  heavy  heap  of  bed-clothes, 
were  all  designed  to  hold  in  sleep,  and  act  as  non-conduct- 
ors to  the  day  and  getting  up.  Even  the  old  stuffed  fox 
upon  the  top  of  the  wardrobe  was  devoid  of  any  spark  of 
vigilance,  for  his  glass  eye  had  fallen  out,  and  he  slumbered 
as  he  stood. 

The  wandering  attention  of  the  mistress  of  the  Blue  Drag- 
on roved  to  these  things  but  twice  or  thrice,  and  then  for 
but  an  instant  at  a  time.  It  soon  deserted  them,  and  even 
the  distant  bed  with  its  strange  burden,  for  the  young  creat- 
ure immediately  before  her,  who,  with  her  downcast  eyes 
intently  fixed  upon  the  fire,  sat  wrapped  in  silent  meditation. 

§he  was  very  young,  apparently  no  more  than  seventeen  j 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  37 

timid  and  shrinking  in  her  manner,  and  yet  with  a  greater 
share  of  self-possession  and  control  over  her  emotions  than 
usually  belongs  to  a  far  more  advanced  period  of  female  life. 
This  she  had  abundantly  shown,  but  now,  in  her  tending  of 
the  sick  gentleman.  She  was  short  in  stature  ;  and  her  figure 
was  slight,  as  became  her  years  ;  but  all  the  charms  of  youth 
and  maidenhood  set  it  off,  and  clustered  on  her  gentle  brow. 
Her  face  was  very  pale,  in  part  no  doubt  from  recent  agita- 
tion. Her  dark  brown  hair,  disordered  from  the  same  cause, 
had  fallen  negligently  from  its  bonds,  and  hung  upon  her 
neck  ;  for  which  instance  of  its  waywardness,  no  male 
observer  would  have  had  the  heart  to  blame  it. 

Her  attire  was  that  of  a  lady,  but  extremely  plain  ;  and  in 
her  manner,  even  when  she  sat  as  still  as  she  did  then,  there 
was  an  indefinable  something  which  appeared  to  be  in  kin- 
dred with  her  scrupulously  unpretending  dress.  She  had  sat, 
at  first  looking  anxiously  toward  the  bed  ;  but  seeing  that 
the  patient  remained  quiet,  and  was  busy  with  his  writing, 
she  had  softly  moved  her  chair  into  its  present  place  ;  partly, 
as  it  seemed,  from  an  instinctive  consciousness  that  he 
desired  to  avoid  observation  ;  and  partly  that  she  might, 
unseen  by  him,  give  some  vent  to  the  natural  feelings  she  had 
hitherto  suppressed. 

Of  all  this,  and  much  more,  the  rosy  landlady  of  the 
Blue  Dragon  took  as  accurate  note  and  observation  as  only 
woman  can  take  of  woman.  And  at  length  she  said,  in  a 
voice  too  low,  she  knew,  to  reach  the  bed  : 

*'  You  have  seen  the  gentleman  in  this  way  before,  miss  ? 
Is  he  used  to  these  attacks  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him  very  ill  before,  but  not  so  ill  as  he  has 
been  to-night." 

'*  What  a  providence  !  "  said  the  landlady  of  the  Dragon, 
"  that  you  had  the  prescriptions  and  the  medicines  with  you, 
miss  ? " 

"  They  are  intended  for  such  an  emergency.  We  never 
travel  without  them." 

"  Oh  !  "  thought  the  hostess,  "  then  we  are  in  the  habit  of 
traveling,  and  of  traveling  together." 

She  was  so  conscious  of  expressing  this  in  her  face,  that 
meeting  the  young  lady's  eyes  immediately  afterward,  and 
being  a  very  honest  hostess,  she  was  rather  confused. 

"  The  gentleman — your  grandpapa  " — she  resumed,  after 
a  short  pause,  '*  being  so  bent  on  having  no  assistance,  must 
terrify  you  very  much,  miss  ?  " 


38  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  have  been  very  much  alarmed  to-night.  He — he  is 
not  my  grandfather." 

'*  Father,  I  should  have  said,"  returned  the  hostess,  sensi- 
ble of  having  made  an  awkward  mistake. 

"  Nor  my  father,"  said  the  young  lady.  *'  Nor,"  she 
added,  slightly  smiling  with  a  quick  perception  of  what  the 
landlady  was  going  to  add,  "  Nor  my  uncle.  We  are  not 
related." 

"  Oh  dear  me  !  "  returned  the  landlady,  still  more  embar- 
rassed than  before  ;  *'  how  could  I  be  so  very  much  mis- 
taken ;  knowing,  as  any  body  in  their  proper  senses  might, 
that  when  a  gentleman  is  ill  he  looks  so  much  older  than  he 
really  is  ?  That  I  should  have  called  you  '  miss,'  too, 
ma'am  !  "  But  when  she  had  proceeded  thus  far,  she  glanced 
involuntarily  at  the  third  finger  of  the  young  lady's  left  hand, 
and  faltered  again  ;  for  there  was  no  ring  upon  it. 

''  When  I  told  you  we  were  not  related,"  said  the  other 
mildly,  but  not  without  confusion  on  her  own  part,  **  I 
meant  not  in  any  way.  Not  even  by  marriage.  Did  you 
call  me,  Martin  ?  "  • 

"  Call  you  ?"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  quickly  up,  and 
hurriedly  drawing  beneath  the  coverlet  the  paper  on  which 
he  had  been  writing.     *'  No." 

She  had  moved  a  pace  or  two  toward  the  bed,  but  stopped 
immediately,  and  went  no  further. 

"No,"  he  repeated,  with  a  petulant  emphasis.  *'  Why  do 
you  ask  me  ?  If  I  had  called  you,  what  need  for  such  a 
question  ?" 

"  It  was  the  creaking  of  the  sign  outside,  sir,  I  dare  say," 
observed  the  landlady  ;  a  suggestion,  by  the  way  (as  she  felt 
a  moment  after  she  had  made  it),  not  at  all  complimentary 
to  the  voice  of  the  old  gentleman. 

"No  matter  what,  ma'am,"  he  rejoined;  "it  wasn't  I. 
Why  how  you  stand  there,  Mary,  as  if  I  had  the  plague  !  But 
they're  all  afraid  of  me,'-'  he  added,  leaning  helplessly  back- 
ward on  his  pillow  ;  "  even  she  !  There  is  a  curse  upon  me. 
What  else  have  I  to  look  for  ?  " 

"Oh  dear,  no.  Oh  no,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  good-tempered 
landlady,  rising,  and  going  toward  him.  "  Be  of  better  cheer, 
sir.     These  are  only  sick  fancies." 

"  What  are  only  sick  fancies  ?  "  he  retorted.  "  What  do 
you  know  about  fancies  ?  Who  told  j^.v  about  fancies  ?  The 
old  story  !     Fancies  !  " 

'"  Oniv  see  again  there,  liow  you  take  one  up  !  "  said  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  39 

mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  with  unimpaired  good  humor. 
"  Dear  heart  alive,  there  is  no  harm  in  the  word,  sir,  if  it  is 
an  old  one.  Folks  in  good  health  have  their  fancies  too,  and 
strange  ones,  every  day." 

Harmless  as  this  speech  appeared  to  be,  it  acted  on  the 
traveler's  distrust,  like  oil  on  fire.  He  raised  his  head  up 
in  the  bed,  and,  fixing  on  her  two  dark  eyes  whose  bright- 
ness was  exaggerated  by  the  paleness  of  his  hollow  cheeks, 
as  they  in  turn,  together  with  his  straggling  locks  of  long 
gray  hair,  were  rendered  whiter  by  the  tight  black  velvet 
skull-cap  which  he  wore,  he  searched  her  face  intently. 

"  Ah  !  you  begin  too  soon,"  he  said,  in  so  low  a  voice  that 
he  seemed  to  be  thinking  it,  rather  than  addressing  her. 
*'  But  you  lose  no  time.  You  do  your  errand,  and  you  earn 
your  fee.     Now,  who  may  he  yoi/r  client  ?  " 

The  landlady  looked  in  great  astonishment  at  her  whom 
he  called  Mary,  and  finding  no  rejoinder  in  the  drooping 
face,  looked  back  again  at  him.  At  first  she  had  recoiled 
involuntarily,  supposing  him  disordered  in  his  mind  ;  but 
the  slow  composure  of  his  manner,  and  the  settled  purpose 
announced  in  his  strong  features,  and  gathering,  most  of  all, 
about  his  puckered  mouth,  forbade  the  supposition. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  *'  tell  me  who  is  it  ?  Being  here,  it  is  not 
very  hard  for  me  to  guess,  you  may  suppose." 

"  Martin,"  interposed  the  young  lady,  laying  her  hand 
upon  his  arm  ;  "  reflect  how  short  a  time  we  have  been  in 
this  house,  and  that  even  your  name  is  unknown  here." 

"  Unless,"  he  said,  ''  you — "  He  was  evidently  tempted  to 
express  a  suspicion  of  her  having  broken  his  confidence  in 
favor  of  the  landlady,  but  either  remembering  her  tender 
nursing,  or  being  moved  in  some  sort,  by  her  face,  he  checked 
himself,  and  changing  his  uneasy  posture  in  the  bed,  was 
silent. 

"  There  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  for  in  that  name  the  Blue 
Dragon  was  licensed  to  furnish  entertainment,  both  to  man 
and  beast.  "  Now,  you  will  be  well  again,  sir.  You  for- 
got, for  the  moment,  that  there  were  none  but  friends  here." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  moaning  impatiently,  as  he 
tossed  one  restless  arm  upon  the  coverlet  ;  "  why  do  you 
talk  to  me  of  friends  !  Can  you  or  any  body  teach  me  to 
know  who  are  my  friends,  and  who  my  enemies  ?" 

"  At  least,"  urged  Mrs.  Lupin,  gently,  "  this  young  lady  is 
your  friend,  I  am  sure." 

**  She  has  no  temptation  to  be   otherwise,"   cried  the  old 


fo  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

man,  like  one  whose  hope  and  confidence  were  utterly 
exhausted.  *'  I  suppose  she  is.  Heaven  knows.  There  ; 
let  me  try  to  sleep.     Leave  the  candle  where  it  is." 

As  they  retired  from  the  bed,  he  drew  forth  the  writing 
which  had  occupied  him  so  long,  and  holding  it  in  the  flame 
of  the  taper  burned  it  to  ashes.  That  done,  he  extinguished 
the  light,  and  turning  his  face  away  with  a  heavy  sigh,  drew 
the  coverlet  about  his  head,  and  lay  quite  still. 

This  destruction  of  the  paper,  both  as  being  strangely 
inconsistent  with  the  labor  he  had  devoted  to  it  and  as 
involving  considerable  danger  of  fire  to  the  Dragon,  occa- 
sioned Mrs.  Lupin  not  a  little  consternation.  But  the  young 
lady  evincing  no  surprise,  curiosity,  or  alarm,  whispered  her, 
with  many  thanks  for  her  solicitude  and  company,  that  she 
would  remain  there  some  time  longer  ;  and  that  she  begged 
her  not  to  share  her  watch,  as  she  was  well  used  to  being 
alone,  and  would  pass  the  time  in  reading. 

Mrs.  Lupin  had  her  full  share  and  dividend  of  that  large 
capital  of  curiosity  which  is  inherited  by  her  sex,  and  at 
another  time  it  might  have  been  difficult  so  to  impress  this 
hint  upon  her  a:  to  induce  her  to  take  it.  But  now,  in 
sheer  wonder  and  amazement  at  these  mysteries,  she  with- 
drew at  once,  and  repairing  straightway  to  her  own  little 
parlor  below-stairs,  sat  down  in  her  easy-chair  with  unnatural 
composure.  At  this  very  crisis,  a  step  was  heard  in  the 
entry,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  sweetly  over  the  half-door 
of  the  bar,  and  into  the  vista  of  snug  privacy  beyond,  mur- 
mured : 

"  Good  evening  ]\Irs.  Lupin  !  " 

"  Oh  dear  me,  sir  !  "  she  cried  advancing  to  receive  him, 
"  I  am  so  very  glad  you  have  come." 

"  And  /  am  very  glad  I  have  come,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
"  if  I  can  be  of  service.  I  am  very  glad  I  have  come.  \Miat 
is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Lupin  ? " 

"A  gentleman  taken  ill  upon  the  road  has  been  so  very 
bad  up-stairs,  sir,"  said  the  tearful  hostess. 

*'  A  gentleman  taken  ill  upon  the  road  has  been  so  very  bad 
up-stairs,  has  he  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.     *'  Well,  well!  " 

Now  there  was  nothing  that  one  may  call  decidedly  original 
in  this  remark,  nor  can  it  be  exactly  said  to  have  contained 
any  wise  precept  theretofore  unknown  to  mankind,  or  to  have 
opened  any  hidden  source  of  consolation  ;  but  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
manner  was  so  bland,  and  he  nodded  his  head  so  soothingly, 
and  showed  in  every  thing  such  an  affable  sense  of  his  own 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  41 

excellence,  that  anybody  would  have  been,  as  Mrs.  Lupin  was, 
comforted  by  the  mere  voice  and  presence  of  such  a  man  ; 
and,  though  he  had  merely  said  '*  a  verb  must  agree  with  its 
nominative  case  in  number  and  person,  my  good  friend,"  or 
"  eight  times  eight  are  sixty-four,  my  worthy  soul,"  must 
have  felt  deeply  grateful  to  him  for  his  humanity  and  wis- 
dom. 

'*  And  how,"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drawing  off  his  gloves 
and  warming  his  hands  before  the  fire,  as  benevolently  as  if 
they  were  somebody  else's,  not  his  ;  "  and  how  is  he  now  ?" 

"  He  is  better,  and  quite  tranquil,"  answered  Mrs.  Lupin. 

**  He  is  better,  and  quite  tranquil,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Very  well  !  ve-ry  well  !  " 

Here  again,  though  the  statement  was  Mrs.  Lupin's  and 
not  Mr.  Pecksniff's,  Mr.  Pecksniff  made  it  his  own  and  con- 
soled her  with  it.  It  was  not  much  when  Mrs.  Lupin  said  it, 
but  it  was  a  whole  book  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  it.  "/ 
observe,"  he  seemed  to  say,  "and  through  me,  morality  in 
general  remarks,  that  he  is  better  and  quite  tranquil." 

"  There  must  be  weighty  matters  on  his  mind  though," 
said  the  hostess,  shaking  her  head,  "  for  he  talks,  sir,  in  the 
strangest  way  you  ever  heard.  He  is  far  from  easy  in  his 
thoughts,  and  wants  some  proper  advice  from  those  whose 
goodness  makes  it  worth  his  having." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "he  is  the  sort  of  customer 
for  me."  But  though  he  said  this  in  the  plainest  language, 
he  didn't  speak  a  word.  He  only  shook  his  head  ;  disparag- 
ingly of  himself  too. 

"  I  am  afraid,  sir,"  continued  the  landlady,  first  looking 
round  to  assure  herself  that  there  was  nobody  within  hearing, 
and  then  looking  down  upon  the  floor.  "  I  am  very  much 
afraid,  sir,  that  his  conscience  is  troubled  by  his  not  being 
related  to — or — or  even  married  to — a  very  young  lady — " 

"  Mrs.  Lupin  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  holding  up  his  hand 
with  something  in  his  manner  as  nearly  approaching  to 
severity,  as  any  expression  of  his,  mild  being'  that  he  was, 
could  ever  do.     "  Person  !     Young  person  ?" 

"  A  very  young  person,"  said  Mrs.  Lupiu,  courtesying  and 
blushing  ;  " — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  have  been  so 
hurried  to-night,  that  I  don't  know  what  I  say — who  is  with 
him  now." 

"  Who  is  with  him  now,"  ruminated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  warm- 
ing his  back  (as  he  had  warmed  his  hands)  as  if  it  were  a 
widow's  back,  or  an  orphan's  back,  or  an  enemy's  back,  or  a 


42  MARTIN  CnUZZLEWIT. 

back  that  any  less  excellent  man  would  have  suffered  to  be 
cold.     "  Oh  dear  me,  dear  me!  " 

''  At  the  same  time  I  am  bound  to  say.  and  I  do  say  with 
all  my  heart,"  observed  the  hostess,  earnestly,  "  that  her  looks 
and  manner  almost  disarm  suspicion." 

"  Your  suspicion,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  gravely, 
"  is  very  natural." 

Touching  which  remark,  let  it  be  written  down  to  their 
confusion,  that  the  enemies  of  this  worthy  man  unblushingly 
maintained  that  he  always  said  ci  what  was  very  bad,  that  it 
was  very  natural;  and  that  he  unconsciously  betrayed  his 
own  nature  in  doing  so. 

*'  Your  suspicion,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  he  repeated,  "  is  very 
natural,  and  I  have  no  doubt  correct.  I  will  wait  upon  these 
travelers." 

With  that  he  took  off  his  great-coat,  and  having  run  his 
fingers  though  his  hair,  thrust  one  hand  gently  in  the 
bosom  of  his  waistcoat  and  meekly  signed  to  her  to  lead  the 
way. 

"  Shall  I  knock  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lupin,  when  they  reached 
the  chamber  door. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  enter  if  you  please." 

They  went  in  on  tiptoe  ;  or  rather  the  hostess  took  that 
precaution,  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  always  walked  softly.  The  old 
gentleman  was  still  asleep,  and  his  young  companion  still  sat 
reading  by  the  fire. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pausing  at  the  door, 
and  giving  his  head  a  melancholy  roll,  "  I  am  afraid  that 
this  looks  artful.  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Lupin,  do  you  know, 
that  this  looks  very  artful  !  " 

As  he  finished  this  whisper,  he  advanced,  before  the  host- 
ess ;  and  at  the  same  time  the  young  lady,  hearing  footsteps, 
rose.  Mr.  Pecksniff  glanced  at  the  volume  she  held,  and 
whispered  Mrs.  Lupin  again  ;  if  possible,  with  increased 
despondency. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  good  book.  I  was  fearful 
of  that  beforehand.  I  am  apprehensive  that  this  is  a  very 
deep  thing  indeed  !  " 

"  What  gentleman  is  this  ?  "  inquired  the  object  of  his 
virtuous  doubts. 

*'  Hush  I  don't  trouble  yourself,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, as  the  landlady  was  about  to  answer.  "  This  young  " 
— in  spite  of  himself  he  hesitated  when  "person  "  rose  to  his 
lips,  and  substituted   another  word:  "this   young  stranger, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  43 

Mrs.  Lupin,  will  excuse  me  for  replying  briefly,  that  I  reside 
in  this  village;  it  may  be  in  an  influential  manner,  however 
undeserved;  and  that  I  have  been  summoned  here,  by  you. 
I  am  here,  as  I  am  everywhere,  I  hope,  in  sympathy  for  the 
sick  and  sorry." 

With  these  impressive  words,  Mr.  Pecksniff  passed  over 
to  the  bedside,  where,  after  patting  the  counterpane  once  or 
twice  in  a  very  solemn  manner,  as  if  by  that  means  he  gained 
a  clear  insight  into  the  patient's  disorder,  he  took  a  seat  in 
a  large  arm-chair,  and  in  an  attitude  of  some  thoughtfulness 
and  much  comfort,  waited  for  his  waking.  Whatever  objec- 
tion the  young  lady  urged  to  ]Mrs.  Lupin  went  no  further, 
for  nothing  more  was  said  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff said  nothing  more  to  any  body  else. 

Full  half  an  hour  elapsed  before  the  old  man  stirred,  but 
at  length  he  turned  himself  in  bed,  and,  though  not  yet 
awake,  gave  tokens  that  his  sleep  was  drawing  to  an  end. 
By  little  and  little  he  removed  the  bed-clothes  from  about 
his  head,  and  turned  still  more  toward  the  side  where  Mr. 
Pecksniff  sat.  In  course  of  time  his  eyes  opened;  and  he 
lay  for  a  few  moments  as  people  newly  roused  sometimes 
will,  gazing  indolently  at  his  visitor,  without  any  distinct 
consciousness  of  his  presence. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  these  proceedings, 
except  the  influence  they  worked  on  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which 
could  hardly  have  been  surpassed  by  the  most  marvelous  of 
natural  phenomena.  Gradually  his  hands  became  tightly 
clasped  upon  the  elbows  of  his  chair,  his  eyes  dilated  with 
surprise,  his  mouth  opened,  his  hair  stood  more  erect  upon 
his  forehead  than  its  custom  was,  until,  at  length,  when  the 
old  mxan  rose  in  bed,  and  stared  at  him  with  scarcely  less 
emotion  than  he  showed  himself,  the  Pecksniff  doubts  were 
all  resolved,  and  he  exclaimed  aloud: 

*' You  aj-e  Martin  Chuzzlewit!  " 

His  consternation  of  surprise  was  so  genuine  that  the  old 
man,  with  all  the  disposition  that  he  clearly  entertained  to 
believe  it  assumed,  was  convinced  of  its  reality. 

"  I  am  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  he  said;  "and  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit wishes  you  had  been  hanged  before  you  had  come 
here  to  disturb  him  in  his  sleep.  Why,  I  dreamed  of  this 
fellow!"  he  said,  lying  down  again,  and  turning  away  his 
face,  '*  before  that  I  knew  he  was  near  me!" 

"  My  good  cousin — "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  There!     His  very  first  words!  "  cried  the  old  man,  shak- 


44  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ing  his  gray  head  to  and  fro  upon  the  pillow,  and  throwing 
up  his  hands.  "  In  his  very  first  words  he  asserts  his  rela- 
tionship! I  knew  he  would;  they  all  do  it!  Near  or  distant, 
blood  or  water,  it's  all  one.  Ugh!  What  a  calendar  of 
deceit,  and  lying,  and  false-witnessing,  the  sound  of  any 
word  of  kindred  opens  before  me!  " 

"  Pray  do  not  be  hasty,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksniff, 
in  a  tone  that  was  at  once  in  the  sublimest  degree  compas- 
sionate and  dispassionate;  for  he  had  by  this  time  recovered 
from  his  surprise,  and  was  in  full  possession  of  his  virtuous 
self.     "  You  will  regret  being  hasty,  I  know  you  will." 

"  Vou  know!  "  said  Martin,  contemptuously, 

"Yes,"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ''Ay,  ay,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit; 
and  don't  imagine  that  I  mean  to  court  or  flatter  you,  for 
nothing  is  further  from  my  intention.  Neither,  sir,  need  you 
entertain  the  least  misgiving  that  I  shall  repeat  that  obnoxious 
word  which  has  given  you  so  much  offense  already.  Why 
should  I  ?  What  do  I  expect  or  want  from  you  ?  There  is 
nothing  in  your  possession  that  /  know  of,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 
which  is  much  to  be  coveted  for  the  happiness  it  brings 
you." 

*'  That's  true  enough,"  muttered  the  old  man. 

"  Apart  from  that  consideration,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
watchful  of  the  effect  he  made,  "  it  must  be  plain  to  you  (I 
am  sure)  by  this  time,  that  if  I  had  wished  to  insinuate 
myself  into  your  good  opinion,  I  should  have  been,  of  all 
things,  careful  not  to  address  you  as  a  relative,  knowing 
your  humor,  and  being  quite  certain  beforehand  that  I 
could  not  have  a  worse  letter  of  recommendation." 

Martin  made  not  any  verbal  answer;  but  he  as  clearly 
implied,  though  only  by  a  motion  of  his  legs  beneath  the 
bedclothes,  that  there  was  reason  m  this,  and  that  he  could 
not  dispute  it,  as  if  he  had  said  as  much  in  good  set  terms. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  keeping  his  hand  in  his  waist- 
coat as  though  he  were  ready,  on  the  shortest  notice,  to 
produce  his  heart  for  Martin  Chuzzlewit's  inspection,  "  I 
came  here  to  offer  my  services  to  a  stranger.  I  make 
no  offer  of  them  to  you,  because  I  know  you  would 
distrust  me  if  I  did.  But  lying  on  that  bed,  sir, 
I  regard  you  as  a  stranger,  and  I  have  just  that 
amount  of  interest  in  you  which  I  hope  I  should  feel 
in  any  stranger,  circumstanced  as  you  are.  Beyond  that,  I 
am  quite  as  indifferent  to  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  you  are 
to  me." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  45 

Having  said  which,  Mr.  Pecksniff  threw  himself  back 
in  the  easy-chair ;  so  radiant  with  ingenuous  honesty, 
that  Mrs.  Lupin  almost  wondered  not  to  see  a  stained-glass 
glory,  such  as  the  saint  wore  in  the  church,  shining  about 
his  head. 

A  long  pause  succeeded.  The  old  man,  with  increased 
restlessness,  changed  his  posture  several  times.  Mrs. 
Lupin  and  the  young  lady  gazed  in  silence  at  the  counter- 
pane. Mr.  Pecksniff  toyed  abstractedly  with  his  eye- 
glass, and  kept  his  eyes  shut,  that  he  might  ruminate  the 
better. 

**  Eh  ?"  he  said  at  last,  opening  them  suddenly,  and  looking 
toward  the  bed.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  you  spoke. 
Mrs.  Lupin,"  he  continued,  slowly  rising,  *'  I  am  not  aware 
that  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you  here.  The  gentle- 
man is  better,  and  you  are  as  good  a  nurse  as  he  can  have. 
Eh?" 

This  last  note  of  interrogation  bore  reference  to  another 
change  of  posture  on  the  old  man's  part,  which  brought  his 
face  toward  Mr.  Pecksniff  for  the  first  time  since  he  had 
turned  away  from  him. 

"  If  you  desire  to  speak  to  me  before  I  go,  sir,"  continued 
that  gentleman,  after  another  pause,  "  you  may  command 
my  leisure-^  but  I  must  stipulate,  in  justice  to  myself,  that 
that  you  do  so  as  to  a  stranger  ;  strictly  as  to  a  stranger." 

Now  if  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew,  from  any  thing  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit  had  expressed  in  gestures,  that  he  wanted  to  speak  to 
him,  he  could  only  have  found  it  out  on  some  such  principle 
as  prevails  in  melodramas,  and  in  virtue  of  which  the  elderly 
farmer  with  the  comic  son  always  knows  what  the  dumb-girl 
means  when  she  takes  refuge  in  his  garden,  and  relates  her 
personal  memoirs  in  incomprehensible  pantomime.  But 
without  stopping  to  make  any  inquiry  on  this  point,  Martin 
Chuzzlewit  signed  to  his  young  companion  to  withdraw, 
which  she  immediately  did,  along  with  the  landlady,  leaving 
him  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone  together.  For  some  time 
they  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  ;  or  rather  the  old  man 
looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff,  again  closing 
his  eyes  on  all  outward  objects,  took  an  inward  survey  of 
his  own  breast.  That  it  amply  repaid  him  for  his  trouble, 
and  afforded  a  delicious  and  enchanting  prospect,  was  clear 
from  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  You  wish  me  to  speak  to  you  as  to  a  total  stranger,"  said 
the  old  man,  '*  do  you  ? " 


46  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  replied,  by  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and  an 
apparent  turning-round  of  his  eyes  in  their  sockets  before  he 
opened  them,  that  he  was  still  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
entertaining  that  desire. 

"  You  shall  be  gratified,"  said  Martin.  "  Sir,  I  am  a 
rich  man.  Not  so  rich  as  some  suppose,  perhaps,  but  yet 
wealthy.  I  am  not  a  miser,  sir,  though  even  that  charge  is 
made  against  me,  as  I  hear,  and  currently  believed.  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  hoarding.  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  posses- 
sion of  money.  The  devil  that  we  call  by  that  name  can 
give  me  nothing  but  unhappiness." 

It  would  be  no  description  of  Mr,  Pecksniff's  gentleness 
of  manner  to  adopt  the  common  parlance,  and  say,  that  he 
looked  at  this  moment  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his 
mouth.  He  rather  looked  as  if  any  quantity  of  butter  might 
have  been  made  out  of  him,  by  churning  the  milk  of  human 
kindness,  as  it  spouted  upward  from  his  heart. 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  I  am  not  a  hoarder  of  money," 
said  the  old  man,  "  I  am  not  lavish  of  it.  Some  people  find 
their  gratification  in  storing  it  up  ;  and  others  theirs  in  part- 
ting  with  it ;  but  I  have  no  gratification  connected  with  the 
thing.  Pain  and  bitterness  are  the  only  goods  it  ever  could 
procure  for  me.  I  hate  it.  It  is  a  specter  walking 
before  me  through  the  world,  and  making  every  social  pleas- 
ure hideous." 

A  thought  arose  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mind,  which  must 
have  instantly  mounted  to  his  face,  or  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
could  not  have  resumed  as  quickly  and  as  sternly  as  he  did  : 

*'  You  would  advise  me  for  my  peace  of  mind,  to  get  rid 
of  this  source  of  misery,  and  traJisfer  it  to  some  one  who 
could  bear  it  better.  Even  you,  perhaps,  would  rid  me  of  a 
burden  under  which  I  suffer  so  grievously.  But,  kind 
stranger,"  said  the  old  man,  whose  every  feature  darkened 
as  he  spoke,  "good  Christian  stranger,  that  is  a  main  part 
of  my  trouble.  In  other  hands  I  have  known  money  do  good; 
in  other  hands  I  have  known  it  triumphed  in,  and  boasted  of 
with  reason,  as  the  master-key  to  all  the  brazen  gates  that 
close  upon  the  paths  to  worldly  honor,  fortune,  and 
enjoyment.  To  what  man  or  woman  ;  to  what  worthy, 
honest,  incorruptible  creature  ;  shall  I  confide  such  a  talis- 
man, either  now  or  when  I  die  ?  Do  you  know  any  such 
person  }  Your  virtues  are  of  course  inestimable,  but  can 
you  tell  me  of  any  other  living  creature  who  will  bear  the  test 
of  contact  with  myself  ? " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  47 

"Of  contact  with  yourself,  sir?"  echoed  Mr,  Peck- 
sniff. 

*'  Ay,"  returned  the  old  man,  *'  the  test  of  contact  with  me — 
with  me.  You  have  heard  of  him  whose  misery  (the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  own  foolish  wish)  was,  that  he  turned  every  thing 
he  touched  into  gold.  The  curse  of  my  existence,  and  the 
realization  of  my  own  mad  desire,  is  that  by  the  golden 
standard  which  I  bear  above  me,  I  am  doomed  to  try  the 
mettle  of  all  other  men,  and  find  it  false  and  hollow." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  You  think  so." 

"  Oh  yes,"  cried  the  old  man,  ''  I  think  so  !  and  in  your  tell- 
ing me,  '  I  think  so,'  I  recognize  the  true  unworldly  ring  of 
your  metal.  I  tell  you,  man,"  he  added,  with  increasing  bitter- 
ness, "  that  I  have  gone,  a  rich  man,  among  people  of  all 
grades  and  kinds  ;  relatives,  friends,  and  strangers  ;  among 
people  in  whom,  when  I  was  poor,  I  had  confidence,  and 
justly,  for  they  never  once  deceived  me  then,  or,  to  me, 
wronged  each  other.  But  I  have  never  found  one  nature,  no, 
not  one,  in  which,  being  wealthy  and  alone,  I  was  not  forced 
to  detect  the  latent  corruption  that  lay  hid  within  it,  waiting 
for  such  as  I  to  bring  it  forth.  Treachery,  deceit,  and  low 
design  ;  hatred  of  competitors,  real  or  fancied,  for  my  favor; 
meanness,  falsehood,  baseness,  and  servility  ;  or,"  and  here 
he  looked  closely  in  his  cousin's  eyes,  "  or  an  assumption  of 
honest  independence,  almost  worse  than  all  ;  these  are  the 
beauties  which  my  wealth  has  brought  to  light.  Brother 
against  brother,  child  against  parent,  friends  treading  on  the 
faces  of  friends,  this  is  the  social  company  by  whom  my  way 
has  been  attended.  There  are  stories  told — they  may  be  true 
or  false — of  rich  men,  who,  in  the  garb  of  poverty,  have 
found  out  virtue  and  rewarded  it.  They  were  dolts  and 
idiots  for  their  pains.  They  should  have  made  the  search 
in  their  own  characters.  They  should  have  shown  themselves 
fit  objects  to  be  robbed  and  preyed  upon  and  plotted  against 
and  adulated  by  any  knaves,  who,  but  for  joy,  would  have 
spat  upon  their  cof^ns  when  they  died  their  dupes  ;  and  then 
their  search  would  have  ended  as  mine  has  done,  and  they 
would  be  what  I  am." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  not  at  all  knowing  what  it  might  be  best  to 
say  in  the  momentary  pause  which  ensued  upon  these  remarks, 
made  an  elaborate  demonstration  of  intending  to  deliver 
something  very  oracular  indeed  ;  trusting  to  the  certainty  of 
the  old  man  interrupting  him,  before  he  should  utter  a  word. 
Nor  was  he  mistaken,  for  Martin  Chuz-^lewit,  having  taken 
breath,  went  on  to  say  : 


48  *      MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  Hear  me  to  an  end  ;  judge  what  profit  you  are  like  to 
gain  from  any  repetition  of  this  visit  ;  and  leave  me.  I  have 
so  corrupted  and  changed  the  nature  of  all  those  who  have 
ever  attended  on  me,  by  breeding  avaricious  plots  and  hopes 
within  them  ;  I  have  engendered  such  domestic  strife  and 
discord,  by  tarrying  even  with  members  of  my  own  family  ; 
I  have  been  such  a  lighted  torch  in  peaceful  homes,  kindling 
up  all  the  inflammable  gases  and  vapors  in  their  moral 
atmosphere,  which,  but  for  me,  might  have  proved  harmless 
to  the  end  ;  that  I  have,  I  may  say,  fled  from  all  who  knew 
me,  and  taking  refuge  in  secret  places,  have  lived,  of  late,  the 
life  of  one  who  is  hunted.  The  young  girl  whom  you  just 
now  saw — what  !  your  eye  lightens  when  I  talk  of  her  !  You 
hate  her  already,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  breast  and  dropping  his  eyelids. 

'*  I  forgot,"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  at  him  with  a  keen- 
ness which  the  other  seemed  to  feel,  although  he  did  not 
raise  his  eyes  so  as  to  see  it ;  "I  ask  your  pardon.  I  forgot 
you  were  a  stranger.  For  the  moment  you  reminded  me  of 
one  Pecksniff,  a  cousin  of  mine.  As  I  was  saying — the  young 
girl  whom  you  just  now  saw,  is  an  orphan  child,  whom,  with 
one  steady  purpose,  I  have  bred  and  educated,  or,  if  you 
prefer  the  word,  adopted.  For  a  year  or  more  she  has  been 
my  constant  companion,  and  she  is  my  only  one.  I  have 
taken,  as  she  knows,  a  solemn  oath  never  to  leave  her  sixpence 
when  I  die,  but  while  I  live,  I  make  her  an  annual  allowance  ; 
not  extravagant  in  its  amount  and  yet  not  stinted.  There  is 
a  compact  between  us  that  no  term  of  affectionate  cajolery 
shall  ever  be  addressed  by  either  to  the  other,  but  that  she 
shall  call  me  always  by  my  Christian  name  ;  I  her,  by  hers. 
She  is  bound  to  me  in  life  by  ties  of  interest,  and  losing  by  my 
death,  and  having  no  expectation  disappointed,  will  mourn  it, 
perhaps  ;  though  for  that  I  care  little.  This  is  the  only  kind 
of  friend  I  have  or  will  have.  Judge  from  such  premises 
what  a  profitable  hour  you  have  spent  in  coming  here,  and 
leave  me  ;  to  return  no  more." 

With  these  words,  the  old  man  fell  slowly  back  upon  his 
pillow.  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  slowly  rose,  and,  with  a  prefatory 
hem,  began  as  follows  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"  There.  Go  !  "  interposed  the  other.  "  Enough  of  this. 
I  am  weary  of  you." 

*'  lam  sorry  for  that,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  because 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  49 

I  have  a  duty  to  discharge,  from  which,  depend  upon  it,  I 
shall  not  shrink.     No,  sir,  I  shall  not  shrink." 

It  is  a  lamentable  fact,  that  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  stood  erect 
beside  the  bed,  in  all  the  dignity  of  goodness,  and  addressed 
him  thus,  the  old  man  cast  an  angry  glance  toward  the 
candlestick,  as  if  he  were  possessed  by  a  strong  inclination 
to  launch  it  at  his  cousin's  head.  But  he  constrained  him- 
self, and  pointing  with  his  finger  to  the  door,  informed  him 
that  his  road  lay  there. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  am  aware  of  that  ;  I 
am  going.  But  before  I  go,  I  crave  your  leave  to  speak,  and 
more  than  that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  must  and  will — yes  indeed, 
I  repeat  it,  must  and  will — be  heard.  I  am  not  surprised, 
sir,  at  any  thing  you  have  told  me  to-night.  It  is  natural, 
very  natural,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  was  known  to  me 
before.  I  will  not  say,"  continued  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drawing 
out  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  winking  with  both  eyes  at 
once,  as  it  were,  against  his  will,  "  I  will  not  say  that  you 
are  mistaken  in  me.  While  you  are  in  your  present  mood  I 
would  not  say  so  for  the  world,  I  alm.ost  wish,  indeed,  that 
I  had  a  different  nature,  that  I  might  repress  even  this  slight 
confession  of  weakness;  which  I  can  not  disguise  from  you; 
which  I  feel  is  humiliating;  but  which  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  excuse.  We  will  say,  if  you  please,"  added  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  with  great  tenderness  of  manner,  "  that  it  arises 
from  a  cold  in  the  head,  or  is  attributable  to  snuff,  or  smell- 
ing-salts, or  onions,  or  any  thing  but  the  real  cause." 

Here  he  paused  for  an  instant,  and  concealed  his  face 
behind  his  pocket-handkerchief.  Then,  smiling  faintly,  and 
holding  the  bed-furniture  with  one  hand,  he  resumed  : 

**  But,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  while  I  am  forgetful  of  myself,  I 
owe  it  to  myself,  and  to  my  character — ay,  sir,  and  I  have 
a  character  which  is  very  dear  to  me,  and  will  be  the  best 
inheritance  of  my  two  daughters — to  tell  you,  on  behalf  of 
another,  that  your  conduct  is  wrong,  unnatural,  indefensible, 
monstrous.  And  I  tell  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tower- 
ing on  tiptoe  among  the  curtains,  as  if  he  were  literally  ris- 
ing above  all  worldly  considerations,  and  were  fain  to  hold 
on  tight,  to  keep  himself  from  darting  skyward  like  a  rocket, 
"  I  tell  you  without  fear  or  favor,  that  it  will  not  do  for  you 
to  be  unmindful  of  your  grandson,  young  Martin,  who  has 
the  strongest  natural  claim  upon  you.  It  will  not  do,  sir," 
repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head.  ''You  may  think 
it  will  do,  but  it  won't.     Yuu  must  provide  for  that  young 


50  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVTT. 

man,  you  shall  provide  for  him;  you  will  provide  for  him. 
I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  pen  and  ink, 
"  that  in  secret  you  have  already  done  so.  Bless  you  for 
doing  so.  Bless  you  for  doing  right,  sir.  Bless  you  for 
hating  me.     And  good-night  !  " 

So  saying,  Mr.  Pecksniff  waved  his  right  hand  with  much 
solemnity  ;  and  once  more  inserting  it  in  his  waistcoat, 
departed.  There  was  emotion  in  his  manner,  but  his  step 
was  firm.  Subject  to  human  weaknesses,  he  was  upheld  by 
conscience. 

Martin  lay  for  some  time,  with  an  expression  on  his  face 
of  silent  wonder,  not  unmixed  with  rage;  at  length  he  mut- 
tered in  a  whisper  : 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  Can  the  false-hearted  boy  have 
chosen  such  a  tool  as  yonder  fellow  who  has  just  gone  out  ? 
Why  not  !  He  has  conspired  against  me,  like  the  rest,  and 
they  are  but  birds  of  one  feather.  A  new  plot  ;  a  new  plot  ! 
Oh  self,  self,  self  !     At  every  turn  nothing  but  self  !  " 

He  fell  to  trifling,  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  with  the  ashes 
of  the  burned  paper  in  the  candlestick.  He  did  so,  at  first, 
in  pure  abstraction,  but  they  presently  became  the  subject 
of  his  thoughts. 

"  Another  will  made  and  destroyed,"  he  said,  "  nothing 
determined  on,  nothing  done,  and  I  might  have  died  to- 
night !  I  plainly  see  to  what  foul  uses  all  this  money  will 
be  put  at  last,"  he  cried,  almost  writhing  in  the  bed;  "  after 
filling  me  with  cares  and  miseries  all  my  life,  it  will 
perpetuate  discord  and  bad  passions  when  I  am  dead.  So  it 
always  is.  What  lawsuits  grow  out  of  the  graves  of  rich 
men,  every  day;  sowing  perjury,  hatred,  and  lies  among  near 
kindred,  where  there  should  be  nothing  but  love!  Heaven 
help  us,  we  have  much  to  answer  for!  Oh  self,  self^  self! 
Every  man  for  himself,  and  no  creature  for  me!  " 

Universal  self!  Was  there  nothing  of  its  shadow  in  these 
reflections,  and  in  the  history  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  on  his 
own  showing? 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  51 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM  WHICH  IT  WILL  APPEAR  THAT  IF  UNION  BE  STRENGTH, 
AND  FAMILY  AFFECTION  BE  PLEASANT  TO  CONTEMPLATE,  THE 
CHUZZLEWITS  WERE  THE  STRONGEST  AND  MOST  AGREEABLE 
FAMILY    IN  THE  WORLD. 

That  worthy  man,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  having  taken  leave  of  his 
cousin  in  the  solemn  terms  recited  in  the  last  chapter,  with- 
drew to  his  own  home,  and  remained  there,  three  whole  days; 
not  so  much  as  going  out  for  a  walk  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  his  own  garden,  lest  he  should  be  hastily  summoned  to 
the  bedside  of  his  penitent  and  remorseful  relative,  whom,  in 
his  ample  benevolence,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  forgive 
unconditionally,  and  to  love  on  ^y  terms.  But,  such  was 
the  obstinacy  and  such  the  bitter  nature  of  that  stern  old 
man,  that  no  repentant  summons  came  ;  and  the  fourth  day 
found  Mr.  Pecksniff  apparently  much  further  from  his  Chris- 
tian object  than  the  first. 

During  the  whole  of  this  interval,  he  haunted  the  Dragon 
at  all  times  and  seasons  in  the  day  and  night,  and  returning 
good  for  evil,  evinced  the  deepest  solicitude  in  the  progress 
of  the  obdurate  invalid  ;  insomuch  that  Mrs.  Lupin  was 
fairly  melted  by  his  disinterested  anxiety  (for  he  often  par- 
ticularly required  her  to  take  notice  that  he  would  do  the 
same  by  any  stranger  or  pauper  in  the  like  condition),  and 
shed  many  tears  of  admiration  and  delight. 

Meantime,  old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  remained  shut  up  in  his 
own  chamber,  and  saw  no  person  but  his  young  companion, 
saving  the  hostess  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  who  was,  at  certain 
times,  admitted  to  his  presence.  So  surely  as  she  came  into 
the  room,  however,  Martin  feigned  to  fall  asleep.  It 
was  only  when  he  and  the  young  lady  were  alone,  that  he 
would  utter  a  word,  even  in  answe'i*  to  the  simplest  inquiry  ; 
though  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  make  out,  by  hard  listening  at 
the  door,  that  they  two  being  left  together,  he  was  talkative 
enough. 

It  happened  on  the  fourth  evening,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff 
walking,  as  usual,  into  the  bar  of  the  Dragon  and  finding  no 
Mrs.  Lupin  there,  went  straight  up-stairs  ;  purposing,  in  the 
fervor  of  his  affectionate  zeal,  to  apply  his  ear  once  more  to 
the  keyhole,  and  quiet  his  mind  by  assuring  himself  that  the 
hard-hearted  patient  was  going  on  well.      It  happened  that 


52  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  coming  softly  upon  the  dark  passage  into 
which  a  spiral  ray  of  light  usually  darted  through  the  same 
keyhole,  was  astonished  to  find  no  such  ray  visible;  and  it 
happened  that  Mr  Pecksniff,  when  he  had  felt  his  way  to 
the  chamber  door,  stooping  hurriedly  down  to  ascertain  by 
personal  inspection  whether  the  jealousy  of  the  old  man  had 
caused  this  keyhole  to  be  stopped  on  the  inside,  brought  his 
head  into  such  violent  contact  with  another  head,  that  he 
could  not  help  uttering  in  an  audible  voice  the  monosyllable 
'*  Oh  !  "  which  was,  as  it  were,  sharply  unscrewed  and  jerked 
out  of  him  by  very  anguish.  It  happened  then,  and  lastly, 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff  found  himself  immediately  collared  by 
something  which  smelt  like  several  damp  unbrellas,  a  bar- 
rel of  beer,  a  cask  of  warm  brandy  and  water,  and  a  small 
parlor-full  of  stale  tobacco  smoke,  mixed;  and  was  straight- 
way led  down  stairs  into  the  bar  from  which  he  had  lately 
come,  where  he  found  himself  standing  opposite  to,  and  in 
the  grasp  of  a  perfectly  strange  gentleman  of  still  stranger 
appearance,  who,  with  his  disengaged  hand,  rubbed  his  own 
head  very  hard,  and  looked  at  him,  Pecksniff,  with  an  evil 
countenance. 

The  gentleman  was  of  that  order  of  appearance,  which  is 
currently  termed  shabby-genteel,  though  in  respect  of  his 
dress  he  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  been  in  any  extremities, 
as  his  fingers  were  a  long  way  out  of  his  gloves,  and  the  soles 
of  his  feet  were  at  an  inconvenient  distance  from  the  upper 
leather  of  his  boots.  His  nether  garments  were  of  a  bluish 
gray — violent  in  its  colors  once,  but  sobered  now  by  age  and 
dinginess — and  were  so  stretched  and  strained  in  a  tough 
conflict  between  his  braces  and  his  straps,  that  they  appeared 
every  moment  in  danger  of  flying  asunder  at  the  knees. 
His  coat,  in  color  blue  and  of  a  military  cut,  was  buttoned 
and  frogged,  up  to  his  chin.  His  cravat  was,  in  hue  and 
pattern,  like  one  of  those  mantles  which  hair-dressers  are 
accustomed  to  wrap  about  their  clients,  during  the  progress 
of  the  professional  mysteries.  His  hat  had  arrived  at  such 
a  pass  that  it  would  have  been  hard  to  determine  whether 
it  was  originally  white  or  black.  But  he  wore  a  mustache — 
a  shaggy  mustache  too;  nothing  in  the  meek  and  merciful 
way,  but  quite  in  the  fierce  and  scornful  style;  the  regular 
Satanic  sort  of  thing — and  he  wore,  besides,  a  vast  quantity 
of  unbrushed  hair.  He  was  very  dirty  and  very  jaunty;  very 
bold  and  very  mean;  very  swaggering  and  very  slinking;  very 
much  like  a  man  who  might   have    been    something   better. 


1 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  53 

and  unspeakably  like  a  man  who  deserved  to  be  something 


worse 


You  were  eaves-dropping  at  the  door,  you  vagabond  !  " 
said  this  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  cast  him  "off,  as  Saint  George  might  have 
repudiated  the  dragon  i!i  that  animal's  last  moments  and  said: 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Lupin,  I  wonder  !  can  the  good  woman 
possibly  be  aware  that  there  is  a  person  here  who — " 

*'  Stay  !  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  Wait  a  bit.  She  does 
know.     What  then  ?  " 

"  What  then,  sir  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ''  What  then  ? 
Do  you  know,  sir,  that  I  am  the  friend  and  relative  of  that 
sick  gentleman  ?  That  I  am  his  protector,  his  guardian, 
his—" 

"  Not  his  niece's  husband,"  interposed  the  stranger,  "  I'll 
be  sworn  ;  for  he  was  there  before  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  indignant 
surprise.     *'  Vv'hat  do  you  tell  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  bit!  "  cried  the  other.  "  Perhaps  you  are  a  cous- 
in— the  cousin  who  lives  in  this  place  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  cousin  who  lives  in  this  place,"  replied  the  man 
of  worth. 

*'  Your  name  is  Pecksniff  ? "  said  the  gentleman. 

"It  is." 

*'  1  am  proud  to  know  you,  and  I  ask  your  pardon,"  said 
the  man,  touching  his  hat,  and  subsequently  diving  behind 
his  cravat  for  a  shirt-collar,  which  however  he  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  bringing  to  the  surface.  "  You  behold  in  me,  sir, 
one  who  has  also  an  interest  in  that  gentleman  up-stairs. 
Wait  a  bit." 

As  he  said  this,  he  touched  the  tip  of  his  high  nose,  by  way 
of  intimation  that  he  would  let  Mr.  Pecksniff  into  a  secret 
presently  ;  and  pulling  off  his  hat,  began  to  search  inside  the 
crown  among  a  mass  of  crumpled  documents  and  small  pieces 
of  what  may  be  called  the  bark  of  broken  cigars,  whence  he 
presently  selected  the  cover  of  an  old  letter,  begrimed  with 
dirt  and  redolent  of  tobacco. 

"  Read  that,"  he  cried,  giving  it  to  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  This  is  addressed  to  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,"  said  that 
gentleman. 

"  You  know  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,  I  believe  ? "  returned 
the  stranger. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  though  he  would 
say,  "I  know  there  is  such  a  person,  and  am  sorry  for  it." 


54  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Very  good,"  remarked  the  gentleman.  "  That  is  my 
business  here."  With  that  he  made  another  dive  for.  his 
shirt  collar,  and  brought  up  a  string. 

"  Now  this  is  very  distressing,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, shaking  his  head  and  smiling  composedly.  **  It  is  very 
distressing  to  me,  to  be  compelled  to  say  that  you  are  rot  the 
person  you  claim  to  be.  I  know  Mr.  Slyme,  my  friend  ;  this 
will  not  do  ;  honesty  is  the  best  policy  ;  you  had  better  not ; 
you  had  indeed." 

**  Stop  !  "  cried  the  gentleman,  stretching  forth  his  right 
arm,  which  was  so  tightly  wedged  into  his  threadbare  sleeve 
that  it  looked  like  a  cloth  sausage.     *'  Wait  a  bit  I  " 

He  paused  to  establish  himself  immediately  in  front  of  the 
fire,  with  his  back  toward  it.  Then  gathering  the  skirts  of 
his  coat  under  his  left  arm,  and  smoothing  his  mustache  with 
his  right  thumb  and  forefinger,'  he  resumed  : 

"  I  understand  your  mistake,  and  I  am  not  offended. 
Why?  Because  it's  complimentary.  You  suppose  I  would 
set  myself  up  for  Chevy  Slyme.  Sir,  if  there  is  a  man  on 
earth  whom  a  gentleman  would  feel  proud  and  honored  to 
be  mistaken  for,  that  man  is  my  friend  Slyme.  For  he  is, 
without  an  exception,  the  highest-minded,  the  most  inde- 
pendent-spirited, most  original,  spiritual,  classical,  talented, 
the  most  thoroughly  Shakespearian,  if  not  Miltonic,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  disgustingly-unappreciated  dog  1 
know.  But,  sir,  I  have  not  the  vanity  to  attempt  to  pass  for 
Slyme.  Any  other  man  in  the  wide  world,  I  am  equal  to  ; 
but  Slyme  is,  I  frankly  confess,  a  great  many  cuts  above  me. 
Therefore  you  are  wrong." 

"  I  judged  from  this,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  holding  out  the 
cover  of  the  letter. 

*'  No  doubt  you  did,"  returned  the  gentleman.  "But,  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  the  whole  thing  resolves  itself  into  an  instance  of 
the  peculiarities  of  genius.  Every  man  ot  true  genius  has 
his  peculiarity.  Sir,  the  peculiarity  of  my  friend  Slyme  is, 
that  he  is  always  waiting  around  the  corner.  He  is  perpetu- 
ally around  the  corner,  sir.  He  is  around  the  corner  at  this 
instant.  Now,"  said  the  gentleman,  shaking  his  forefinger 
before  his  nose,  and  planting  his  legs  wider  apart  as  he  looked 
attentively  in  Mr.  Pecksniffs  face,  "  that  is  a  remarkably 
curious  and  interesting  trait  in  Mr.  Slyme's  character  ;  and 
whenever  Slyme's  life  comes  to  be  written,  that  trait  must  be 
thoroughly  worked  out  by  his  biographer,  or  society  will  not 
be  satisfied.     Observe  me,  society  will  not  be  satisfied  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  55 

Mr.  Pecksniff  coughed. 

**  Slyme's  biographer,  sir,  whoever  he  may  be,"  resumed 
the  gentleman,  "  must  apply  to  me  ;  or,  if  I  am  gone  to  that 
what's-his-name  from  which  no  thingumbob  comes  back  he 
must  apply  to  my  executors  for  leave  to  search  among  my 
papers.  I  have  taken  a  few  notes  in  my  poor  way,  of  some 
of  that  man's  proceedings — my  adopted  brother,  sir, — which 
would  amaze  you.  He  made  use  of  an  expression,  sir,  only 
on  the  fifteenth  of  last  month  when  he  couldn't  meet  a  little 
bill  and  the  other  party  wouldn't  renew,  which  would  have 
done  honor  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte  in  addressing  the  French 
army." 

"  And  pray,"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  obviously  not  quite  at 
his  ease,  "  what  may  be  Mr.  Slyme's  business  here,  if  1  may 
be  permitted  to  inquire,  who  am  compelled  by  a  regard  for 
my  own  character  to  disavow  all  interest  in  his  proceed- 
mgs  ? 

"  In  the  first  place,"  returned  the  gentleman,  "  you  will 
permit  me  to  say,  that  I  object  to  that  remark,  and  that  I 
strongly  and  indignantly  protest  against  it  on  behalf  of  my 
friend  Slyme.  In  the  next  place,  you  will  give  me  leave  to 
introduce  myself.  My  name,  sir,  is  Tigg.  The  name  of 
Montague  Tigg  will  perhaps  be  familiar  to  you  in  connection 
with  the  most  remarkable  events  of  the  Peninsular  War  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  gently  shook  his  head. 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  gentleman.  "  That  man  was  my 
father  and  I  bear  his  name.  I  am  consequently  proud — 
proud  as  Lucifer.  Excuse  me  one  moment.  I  desire  my 
friend  Slyme  to  be  present  at  the  remainder  of  this  confer- 
ence." 

With  this  announcement  he  hurried  awav  to  the  outer 
door  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  almost  immediately  returned 
with  a  companion  shorter  than  himself,  who  was  wrapped  in 
an  old  blue  camlet  cloak  with  a  lining  of  faded  scarlet.  His 
sharp  features  being  much  pinched  and  nipped  by  long  wait- 
ing in  the  cold,  and  his  straggling  red  whiskers  and  frowzy 
hair  being  more  than  usually  disheveled  from  the  same 
cause,  he  certainly  looked  rather  unwholesome  and  uncom- 
fortable than  Shakespearian  or  Miltonic. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  clapping  one  hand  on  the  shoul- 
der of  his  prepossessing  friend,  and  calling  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
attention  to  him  with  the  other,  "  you  two  are  related  ;  and 
relations  never  did  agree,  and  never  will  ;  which  is  a  wise 
dispensation  and  an  inevitable  thing,  r^r  there  would  be  none 


50  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

but  family  parties,  and  every  body  in  the  world  would  bore 
every  body  else  to  death.  If  you  were  on  good  terms  I 
should  consider  you  a  most  confoundedly  unnatural  pair  ; 
but  standing  toward  each  other  as  you  do,  I  look  upon  you 
as  a  couple  of  devilish  deep-thoughted  fellows,  who  may  be 
reasoned  with  to  any  extent." 

Here  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme,  whose  great  abilities  seemed  one 
and  all  to  point  toward  the  sneaking  quarter  of  the  moral 
compass,  nudged  his  friend  steadily  with  his  elbow,  and 
whispered  in  his  ear. 

"  Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  aloud,  in  the  high  tone  of  one  who 
was  not  to  be  tampered  with.  "  I  shall  come  to  that  pres- 
ently. I  act  upon  my  own  responsibility,  or  not  at  all.  To 
the  extent  of  such  a  trifling  loan  as  a  crownpiece  to  a  man 
of  your  talents,  I  look  upon  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  certain;"  and 
seeing  at  this  juncture  that  the  expression  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
face  by  no  means  betokened  that  he  shared  this  certainty,  Mr. 
Tigg  laid  his  finger  on  his  nose  again  for  that  gentleman's 
private  and  especial  behoof  ;  calling  upon  him  thereby  to 
take  notice,  that  the  requisition  of  small  loans  was  another 
instance  of  the  peculiarities  of  genius  as  developed  in  his 
friend  Slyme  ;  that  he,  Tigg,  winked  at  the  same  because  of 
the  strong  metaphysical  interest  which  these  weaknesses 
possessed  ;  and  that  in  reference  to  his  own  personal  advo- 
cacy of  such  small  advances,  he  merely  consulted  the 
humor  of  his  friend,  without  the  least  regard  to  his  own 
advantage  or  necessities. 

"  Oh,  Chiv,  Chiv  ! "  added  Mr.  Tigg,  surveying  his 
adopted  brother  with  an  air  of  profound  contemplation 
after  dismissing  this  piece  of  pantomime.  "You  are, 
upon  my  life,  a  strange  instance  of  the  little  frailties  that 
beset  a  mighty  mind.  If  there  had  never  been  a  telescope 
in  the  world,  I  should  have  been  quite  certain  from  my 
observation  of  you,  Chiv,  that  there  were  spots  on  the 
sun  !  I  wish  I  may  die  if  this  isn't  the  queerest  state  of 
existence  that  we  find  ourselves  forced  into,  without  know- 
ing why  or  wherefore,  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  Well,  never  mind  ! 
Moralize  as  we  will,  the  world  goes  on.  As  Hamlet  says, 
Hercules  may  lay  about  him  with  his  club  in  every  possible 
direction,  but  he  can't  prevent  the  cats  from  making 
a  most  intolerable  row  on  the  roofs  of  houses,  or  the 
dogs  from  being  shot  in  the  hot  weather  if  they  nm  about 
the  streets  unmuzzled.  Life's  a  riddle;  a  most  infernally 
hard  riddle   to  guess,  Mr.  Pecksniff,     My  own  opinion  is. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  57 

that  like  that  celebrated  conundrum,  *  Why's  a  man  in  jail 
like  a  man  out  of  jail  ? '  there's  no  answer  to  it.  Upon  my 
soul  and  body,  it's  the  queerest  sort  of  thing  altogether — but 
there's  no  use  in  talking  about  it.     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

With  which  consolatory  deduction  from  the  gloomy  prem- 
ises recited,  Mr.  Tigg  roused  himself  by  a  great  effort,  and 
proceeded  in  his  former  strain. 

"  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  I'm  a  most  confoundedly 
soft-hearted  kind  of  fellow  in  my  way,  and  I  can  not  stand 
by,  and  see  you  two  blades  cutting  each  other's  throats  when 
there's  nothing  to  be  got  by  it.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  you're  the 
cousin  of  the  testator  up-stairs  and  we're  the  nephew — I  say 
we,  meaning  Chiv.  Perhaps  in  all  essential  points,  you  are 
more  nearly  related  to  him  than  we  are.  Very  good.  If  so, 
so  be  it.  But  you  can't  get  at  him,  neither  can  we.  I  give 
you  my  brightest  word  of  honor,  sir,  that  I've  been  looking 
through  that  keyhole,  with  short  intervals  of  rest,  ever  since 
nine  o'clock  this  morning,  in  expectation  of  receiving  an 
answer  to  one  of  the  most  moderate  and  gentlemanly  appli- 
cations for  a  little  temporary  assistance — only  fifteen  pounds, 
and  7ny  security — that  the  mind  of  man  can  conceive.  In 
the  meantime,  sir,  he  is  perpetually  closeted  with,  and  pouring 
his  whole  confidence  into  the  bosom  of  a  stranger.  Now,  I 
say  decisively,  with  regard  to  this  state  of  circumstances, 
that  it  won't  do  ;  that  it  won't  act ;  that  it  can't  be  ;  and 
that  it  must  not  be  suffered  to  continue." 

*'  Every  man,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  has  a  right,  an 
undoubted  right  (which  I,  for  one,  would  not  call  in  ques- 
tion for  an  earthly  consideration;  oh  no!),  to  regulate  his 
own  proceedings  by  his  likings  and  dislikings,  supposing 
they  are  not  immoral  and  not  irreligious.  I  may  feel  in  my 
own  breast,  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  does  not  regard — me,  for 
instance:  say  me — with  exactly  that  am.ount  of  Christian 
love  which  should  subsist  between  us;  I  may  feel  grieved 
and  hurt  at  the  circumstance;  still  I  may  not  rush  to  the 
conclusion  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  is  wholly  without  a  justifica- 
tion in  all  his  coldnesses.  Heaven  forbid!  Besides,  how, 
Mr.  Tigg,"  continued  Pecksniff  even  more  gravely  and 
impressively  than  he  had  spoken  yet,  "  how  could  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit be  prevented  from  having  these  peculiar  and  most 
extraordinary  confidences  of  which  you  speak  ;  the  exist- 
ence of  which  I  must  admit  ;  and  which  I  can  not  but 
deplore — for  his  sake?  Consider,  my  good  sir — "  and  here 
Mr.  Pecksniff  eyed  him  wistfully — "  how  very  much  at  ran- 
dom you  are  talking." 


58  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Why  as  to  that,"  rejoined  Tigg,  "  it  certainly  is  a  difficult 
question," 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is  a  difficult  question,"  Mr.  Pecksniff 
answered.  As  he  spoke  he  drew  himself  aloft,  and  seemed 
to  grow  more  mindful,  suddenly,  of  the  moral  gulf  between 
himself  and  the  creature  he  addressed.  "  Undoubtedly  it 
is  a  very  difficult  question.  And  I  am  far  from  feeling  sure 
that  it  is  a  question  any  one  is  authorized  to  discuss.  Good 
evening  to  you." 

"  You  don't  know  that  the  Spottletoes  are  here,  I  sup- 
pose ? "  said  Mr,  Tigg. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  what  Spottletoes  ? "  asked 
Pecksniff,  stopping  abruptly  on  his  way  to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,"  said  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire, 
speaking  aloud  for  the  first  time,  and  speaking  very  sulkily; 
shambling  with  his  legs  the  while.  *'  Spottletoe  married  my 
father's  brother's  child,  didn't  he?  And  Mrs.  Spottletoe  is 
Chuzzlewit's  own  niece,  isn't  she?  She  was  his  favorite 
once.     You  may  well  ask  what  Spottletoes." 

"  Now,  upon  my  sacred  word!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  look- 
ing upward.  *'  This  is  dreadful.  The  rapacity  of  these 
people  is  absolutely  frightful  !  " 

*'It's  not  only  the  Spottletoes  either,  Tigg,"  said  Slyme, 
looking  at  that  gentleman  and  speaking  at  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  his  son  have  got  wind  of  it,  and 
have  come  down  this  afternoon.  I  saw  'em  not  five  minutes 
ago,  when  I  was  waiting  round  the  corner." 

"  Oh,  mammon,  mammon!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiting 
his  forehead. 

**  So  there,"  said  Slyme,  regardless  of  the  interruption, 
"are  his  brother  and  another  nephew  for  you,  already." 

"  This  is  the  whole  thing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg;  "this  is  the 
point  and  purpose  at  which  I  was  gradually  arriving,  when  my 
friend  Slyme  here,  with  six  words,  hit  it  full.  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
now  that  your  cousin  (and  Chiv's  uncle)  has  turned  up,  some 
steps  must  be  taken  to  prevent  his  disappearing  again;  and  if 
possible  to  counteract  the  influence  which  is  exercised  over 
him  now,  by  this  designing  favorite.  Every  body  who  is  inter- 
ested feels  it,  sir.  The  whole  family  is  pouring  down  to  this 
place.  The  time  has  come  when  individual  jealousies  and 
interests  must  be  forgotten  for  a  time,  sir,  and  union  must  be 
made  against  the  common  enemy.  When  the  common 
enemy  is  routed,  you  will  all  set  up  for  yourselves  again  ; 
every  lady  and  gentleman  who  has  a  part  in  the  game  will 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  59 

go  in  on  their  own  account  and  bowl  away,  to  the  best  of 
their  ability,  at  the  testator's  wicket  ;  and  nobody  will  be  in 
a  worse  position  than  before.  Think  of  it.  Don't  commit 
yourself  now.  You'll  find  usatthe  Half  Moon  and  Seven  Stars 
in  this  village,  at  any  time,  and  open  to  any  reasonable 
proposition.  Hem  !  Chiv,  my  dear  fellow,  go  out  and  see 
what  sort  of  a  night  it  is." 

Mr.  Slyme  lost  no  time  in  disappearing,  and,  it  is  to  be 
presumed,  in  going  round  the  corner.  Mr.  Tigg,  planting 
his  legs  as  wide  apart  as  he  could  be  reasonably  expected 
by  the  most  sanguine  man  to  keep  them,  shook  his  head  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff  and  smiled. 

"  We  must  not  be  too  hard,"  he  said,  "  upon  the  little 
eccentricities  of  our  friend  Slyme.  You  saw  him  whisper 
me?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  seen  him. 

"  You  heard  my  answer,  I  think  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  heard  it. 

**  Five  shillings,  eh  ? "  said  Mr.  Tigg,  thoughtfully.  "  Ah  ! 
what  an  extraordinary  fellow  ?     Very  moderate  too  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  no  answer. 

**  Five  shillings  !  "  pursued  Mr.  Tigg,  musing  ;  "  and  to 
be  punctually  repaid  next  week  ;  that's  the  best  of  it.  You 
heard  that  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  heard  that. 

"  No  !  You  surprise  me  !  "  cried  Tigg.  "  That's  the 
cream  of  the  thing,  sir.  I  never  knew  that  man  fail  to 
redeem  a  promise  in  my  life.  You're  not  in  want  of  change, 
are  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  thank  you.     Not  at  all." 
.  "  Just  so,"  returned   Mr.  Tigg.     ''  If  you   had  been,  I'd 
have  got  it  for  you."    With  that  he  began  to  whistle  ;  but  a 
dozen  seconds  had  not  elapsed  when  he  stopped  short,  and, 
looking  earnestly  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  said  : 

"  Perhaps  you'd  rather  not  lend  Slyme  five  shillings  ?  " 

"  I  would  much  rather  not,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  rejoined, 

"  Egad  !  "  cried  Tigg,  gravely  nodding  his  head  as  if 
some  ground  of  objection  occurred  to  him  at  that  moment 
for  the  first  time,  "  it's  very  possible  you  may  be  right.  Would 
you  entertain  the  same  sort  of  objection  to  lending  vie  five 
shillings,  now  ?" 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  do  it.  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

**  Not  even  half  a  crown,  perhaps  ?  "  urged  Mr.  Tigg, 

"  Not  even  half  a  crown." 


6o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Why  then  we  come,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  to  the  ridiculously 
small  amount  of  eighteen  pence.     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  **  would  be  equally  objec- 
tionable." 

On  receipt  of  this  assurance,  Mr.  Tigg  shook  him  heartily 
by  both  hands,  protesting  with  much  earnestness  that  he  was 
one  of  the  most  consistent  and  remarkable  men  he  had  ever 
met,  and  that  he  desired  the  honor  of  his  better  acquaint- 
ance. He  moreover  observed  that  there  were  many  little 
characteristics  about  his  friend  Slyme,  of  which  he  could  by 
no  means,  as  a  man  of  strict  honor,  approve  ;  but  that  he 
was  prepared  to  forgive  him  all  these  slight  drawbacks,  and 
much  more,  in  consideration  of  the  great  pleasure  he  him- 
self had  that  day  enjoyed  in  his  social  intercourse  with 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  had  given  him  a  far  higher  and  more 
enduring  delight  than  the  successful  negotiation  of  any 
small  loan  on  the  part  of  his  friend  could  possibly  have 
imparted.  With  which  remarks  he  would  beg  leave,  he  said, 
to  wish  Mr.  Pecksniff  a  very  good  evening.  And  so  he  took 
himself  off ;  as  little  abashed  by  his  recent  failure  as  any 
gentleman  would  desire  to  be. 

The  meditations  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  evening  at  the  bar 
of  the  Dragon,  and  that  night  in  his  own  house,  were  very 
serious  and  grave  indeed  ;  the  more  especially  as  the  intel- 
ligence he  had  received  from  Messrs.  Tigg  and  Slyme  touch- 
ing the  arrival  of  other  members  of  the  family,  were  fully 
confirmed  on  more  particular  inquiry.  For  the  Spottletoes 
had  actually  gone  straight  to  the  Dragon,  where  they  were 
at  that  moment  housed  and  mounting  guard,  and  where  their 
appearance  had  occasioned  such  a  vast  sensation  that  Mrs 
Lupin,  scenting  their  errand  before  they  had  been  under  her 
roof  half  an  hour,  carried  the  news  herself  with  all  possible 
secrecy  straight  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  ;  indeed  it  was  her 
great  caution  in  doing  so  which  occasioned  her  to  miss  that 
gentleman  who  entered  at  the  front  door  of  the  Dragon,  just  as 
she  emerged  from  the  back  one.  Moreover,Mr.  Anthony  Chuz- 
zlewit  and  his  son  Jonas  were  economically  quartered  at  the 
Half  Moon  and  Seven  Stars,  which  was  an  obscure  ale-house  ; 
and  by  the  very  next  coach  there  came  posting  to  the  scene  of 
action,  so  many  other  affectionate  members  of  the  family 
(who  quarreled  with  each  other,  inside  and  out,  all  the  way 
down,  to  the  utter  distraction  of  the  coachman),  that  in  less 
then  four-and-twenty  hours  the  scanty  tavern  accommoda- 
tion was  at  a  premium,  and  al]  the  private  lodgings  in   the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  61 

place  amounting  to  full  four  beds  and  a  sofa,  rose  cent,  per 
cent,  in  the  market. 

In  a  word,  things  came  to  that  pass  that  nearly  the  whole 
family  sat  down  before  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  formally 
invested  it  ;  and  Martin  Chuzzlewit  was  in  a  state  of  siege. 
But  he  resisted  bravely  ;  refusing  to  receive  all  letters,  mes- 
sages, and  parcels  ;  obstinately  declining  to  treat  with  any 
body  ;  and  holding  out  no  hope  or  promise  of  capitulation. 
Meantime  the  family  forces  were  perpetually  encountering 
each  other  in  divers  parts  of  the  neighborhood  ;  and,  as  no 
one  branch  of  the  Chuzzlewit  tree  had  ever  been  known  to 
agree  with  another  within  the  memory  of  man,  there  was 
such  a  skirmishing,  and  flouting,  and  snapping  off  of  heads, 
in  the  metaphorical  sense  of  that  expression  ;  such  a  bandy- 
ing of  words  and  calling  of  names  ;  such  an  upturning  of 
noses  and  wrinkling  of  brows  ;  such  a  formal  interment  of 
good  feelings  and  violent  resurrection  of  ancient  grievances; 
as  had  never  been  known  in  those  quiet  parts  since  the  ear- 
liest record  of  their  civilized  existence. 

At  length,  in  utter  despair  and  hopelessness,  some  few  of 
the  belligerents  began  to  speak  to  each  other  in  only  moder- 
ate terms  of  mutual  aggravation  ;  and  nearly  all  addressed 
themselves  with  a  show  of  tolerable  decency  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, in  recognition  of  his  high  character  and  influential  posi- 
tion. Thus,  by  little  and  little  they  made  common  cause  of 
Martin  Chuzzlewit's  obduracy,  until  it  was  agreed  (if  such  a 
word  can  be  used  in  connection  with  the  Chuzzlewits)  that 
there  should  be  a  general  council  and  conference  held  at  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  house  upon  a  certain  day  at  noon  ;  which  all  mem- 
bers of  the  family  who  had  brought  themselves  within  reach 
of  the  summons,  were  forthwith  bidden  and  invited,  solemnly, 
to  attend. 

If  ever  ISIr.  Pecksniff  wore  an  apostolic  look,  he  wore  it  on 
this  memorable  day.  If  ever  his  unruffled  smile  proclaimed 
the  words,  "  I  am  a  messenger  of  peace  !  "  that  was  its  mis- 
sion now.  If  ever  man  combined  within  himself  all  the  mild 
qualities  of  the  lamb  with  a  considerable  touch  of  the  dove, 
and  not  a  dash  of  the  crocodile,  or  the  least  possible  sugges- 
tion of  the  very  mildest  seasoning  of  the  serpent,  that  man 
was  he.  And,  oh,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  Oh,  the  serene 
expression  on  the  face  of  Charity,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  I 
knovv'  that  all  my  family  have  injured  me  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  reparation,  but  I  forgive  them,  for  it  is  my  duty  so  to 
do  I "     And,  oh,  the  gay  simplicity  of  Mercy  ;  so  charming, 


62  MARTIN  CHU2ZLEWIT. 

innocent,  and  infant-like,  that  if  she  had  gone  out  walking  by 
herself,  and  it  had  been  a  little  earlier  in  the  season,  the 
robin-redbreasts  might  have  covered  her  with  leaves  against 
her  will,  believing  her  to  be  one  of  the  sweet  children  in  the 
wood,  come  out  of  it,  and  issuing  forth  once  more  to  look 
for  blackberries  in  the  young  freshness  of  her  heart  !  What 
words  can  paint  the  Pecksniffs  in  that  trying  hour  ?  Oh, 
none  ;  for  words  have  naughty  company  among  them,  and 
the  Pecksniffs  were  all  goodness. 

But  when  the  company  arrived!  That  was  the  time.  When 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  rising  from  his  seat  at  the  table's  head,  with  a 
daughter  on  either  hand,  received  his  guests  in  the  best  par- 
lor and  motioned  them  to  chairs,  with  eyes  so  overflowing 
and  countenance  so  damp  with  gracious  perspiration,  that  he 
may  be  said  to  have  been  in  a  kind  of  moist  meekness  !  And 
the  company  ;  the  jealous,  stony-hearted,  distrustful  com- 
pany, who  were  all  shut  up  in  themselves,  and  had  no  faith 
in  any  body,  and  wouldn't  believe  any  thing,  and  would  no 
more  allow  themselves  to  be  softened  or  lulled  asleep  by  the 
Pecksniffs  than  if  they  had  been  so  many  hedgehogs  or  por- 
cupines ! 

First,  there  was  Mr.  Spottletoe,  who  was  so  bald  and  had 
such  big  whiskers,  that  he  seemed  to  have  stopped  his  hair, 
by  the  sudden  application  of  some  powerful  remedy,  in  the 
very  act  of  falling  off  his  head,  and  to  have  fastened  it  irrevo- 
cably on  his  face.  Then  there  was  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  who  being 
much  too  slim  for  her  years,  and  of  a  poetical  constitution, 
was  accustomed  to  inform  her  more  intimate  friends  that  the 
said  whiskers  were  "  the  lodestar  of  her  existence;"  and  who 
could  now,  by  reason  of  her  strong  affection  for  her  Uncle 
Chuzzlewit,  and  the  shock  it  gave  her  to  be  suspected  of 
testamentary  designs  upon  him,  do  nothing  but  cry — except 
moan.  Then  there  were  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  and  his  son 
Jonas  ;  the  face  of  the  old  man  so  sharpened  by  the  wariness 
and  cunning  of  his  life,  that  it  seemed  to  cut  him  a  passage 
through  the  crowded  room,  as  he  edged  away  behind  the 
remotest  chairs;  while  the  son  had  so  well  profited  by  the  pre- 
cept and  example  of  the  father,  that  he  looked  a  year  or  two 
the  elder  of  the  twain,  as  they  stood  winking  iheir  red  eyes 
side  by  side,  and  whispering  to  each  other,  softly.  Then  there 
was  the  widow  of  a  deceased  brother  of  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzle- 
wit, who  being  almost  supernaturally  disagreeable,  and  having 
a  dreary  face  and  a  bony  figure  and  a  masculine  voice,  was, 
in  right  of  these  qualities,  what  is  commonly  called  a  strong- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT,  03 

minded  woman;  and  who,  if  she  could,  would  have  established 
her  claim  to  the  title,  and  have  shown  herself  mentally 
speaking,  a  perfect  Samson,  by  shutting  up  her  brother-in- 
law  in  a  private  mad-house,  until  he  proved  his  complete 
sanity  by  loving  her  very  much.  Beside  her  sat  her  spinster 
daughters,  three  in  number,  and  of  gentlewomanly  deport- 
ment, who  had  so  mortified  themselves  with  tight  stays,  that 
their  tempers  were  reduced  to  something  less  than  their 
waists,  and  sharp  lacing  was  expressed  in  their  very  noses. 
Then  there  was  a  young  gentleman,  grand-nephew  of  Mr. 
Martin  Chuzzlewit,  very  dark  and  very  hairy,  and  appar- 
ently born  for  no  particular  purpose  but  to  save  looking- 
glasses  the  trouble  of  reflecting  more  than  just  the  first  idea 
and  sketchy  notion  of  a  face,  which  had  never  been  carried 
out.  Then  there  was  a  solitary  female  cousin  who  was 
remarkable  for  nothing  but  being  very  deaf,  and  living  by 
herself,  and  always  having  the  toothache.  Then  there  was 
George  Chuzzlewit,  a  gay  bachelor  cousin,  who  claimed  to 
be  young  but  had  been  younger,  and  was  inclined  to 
corpulency,  and  rather  over-fed  himself;  to  that  extent, 
indeed,  that  his  eyes  were  strained  in  their  sockets,  as  if  with 
constant  surprise;  and  he  had  such  an  obvious  disposition 
to  pimples,  that  the  bright  spots  on  his  cravat,  the  rich 
pattern  on  his  waistcoat,  and  even  his  glittering  trinkets, 
seemed  to  have  broken  out  upon  him,  and  not  to  have  come 
into  existence  comfortably.  Last  of  all  there  were  present 
Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  and  his  friend  Tigg.  And  it  is  worthy  of 
remark,  that  although  each  person  present  disliked  the  other 
mainly  because  he  or  she  did  belong  to  the  family,  they  one 
and  all  concurred  in  hating  Mr.  Tigg  because  he  didn't. 

Such  was  the  pleasant  little  family  circle  now  assembled 
in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  best  parlor,  agreeably  prepared  to  fall 
foul  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  or  any  body  else  who  might  venture  to 
say  any  thing  whatever  upon  any  subject. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  rising,  and  looking  round 
upon  them,  with  folded  hands,  "  does  me  good.  It  does  my 
daughters  good.  We  thank  you  for  assembling  here.  We 
are  grateful  to  you  with  our  whole  hearts.  It  is  a  blessed 
distinction  that  you  have  conferred  upon  us,  and  believe 
me;  "  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  how  he  smiled  here;  "  we 
shall  not  easily  forget  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  Pecksniff,"  remarked  Mr. 
Spottletoe,  with  his  whiskers  in  a  very  portentous  state; 
''  but  you  are  assuming  toe  much  to  yourself,  sir.     Who  do 


64  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

you  imagine  has  it  in  contemplation  to  confer  a  distinction 
upon  you,  sir  ?  " 

A  general  murmur  echoed  this  inquiry,   and  applauded  it. 

"  If  you  are  about  to  pursue  the  course  with  which  you 
have  begun,  sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Spottletoe  in  a  great  heat, 
and  giving  a  violent  rap  on  the  table  with  his  knuckles,  "  the 
sooner  you  desist,  and  this  assembly  separates,  the  better.  I 
am  no  stranger,  sir,  to  your  preposterous  desire  to  be 
regarded  as  the  head  of  this  family,  but  I  can  tell  yoi/,  sir — " 

Oh  yes  indeed!  I/e  tell.  JJ'e /  What?  He  was  the 
head,  was  he?  From  the  strong-minded  woman  downwards 
every  body  fell,  that  instant,  upon  Mr.  Spottletoe,  who  after 
vainly  attempting  to  be  heard  in  silence  w^as  fain  to  sit  down 
again,  folding  his  arms  and  shaking  his  head,  most  wrath - 
fully,  and  giving  Mrs.  Spottletoe  to  understand  in  dumb  show, 
that  that  scoundrel  Pecksniff  might  go  on  for  the  present, 
but  he  would  cut  in  presently,  and  annihilate  him. 

"  I  am  not  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  resumption  of 
his  address,  *'  I  am  really  not  sorry  that  this  little  incident 
has  happened.  It  is  good  to  feel  that  we  are  met  here 
without  disguise.  It  is  good  to  know  that  we  have  no 
reserve  before  each  other,  but  are  appearing  freely  in  our 
own  characters." 

Here,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  strong-minded  woman 
rose  a  little  way  from  her  seat,  and  trembling  violently  from 
head  to  foot,  more  as  it  seemed  with  passion  than  timidity, 
expressed  a  general  hope  that  some  people  would  appear  in 
their  own  characters,  if  it  were  only  for  such  a  proceeding 
having  the  attraction  of  novelty  to  recommend  it:  and  that 
when  they  (meaning  the  some  people  before  mentioned) 
talked  about  their  relations,  they  would  be  careful  to  observe 
who  was  present  in  company  at  the  time;  otherwise  it  might 
come  round  to  those  relations'  ears,  in  a  way  they  little 
expected;  and  as  to  red  noses  (she  observed)  she  had 
yet  to  learn  that  a  red  nose  was  any  disgrace,  inasmuch 
as  people  neither  made  nor  colored  their  own  noses, 
but  had  that  feature  provided  for  them  without  being 
first  consulted;  though  even  upon  that  branch  of  the 
subject  she  had  great  doubts  whether  certain  noses 
were  redder  than  other  noses,  or  indeed  half  as  red  as 
some.  This  remark  being  received  with  a  shrill  titter  by 
the  two  sisters  of  the  speaker.  Miss  Charity  Pecksniff 
begged  with  much  politeness  to  be  informed  whether  any  of 
those  very  low  observations  were  leveled  at  her  ;  and  receiv- 


MARTIN  CHU2ZLEWIT.  65 

ing  no  more  explanatory  answer  than  was  conveyed  in  the 
adage  "  Those  the  cap  fits,  let  them  wear  it,"  immediately 
commenced  a  somewhat  acrimonious  and  personal  retort, 
wherein  she  was  much  comforted  and  abetted  by  her  sister 
Mercy,  who  laughed  at  the  same  with  great  heartiness  ; 
indeed  far  more  naturally  than  life.  And  it  being  cpiite 
impossible  that  any  difference  of  opinion  can  take  place 
among  women  without  every  woman  who  is  within  hearing 
taking  active  part  in  it,  the  strong-minded  lady  and  her  two 
daughters,  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  and  the  deaf  cousin  (who 
was  not  at  all  disqualified  from  joining  in  the  dispute  by 
reason  of  being  perfectly  unacquainted  with  its  merits),  one 
and  all  plunged  into  the  quarrel  directly. 

The  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  being  a  pretty  good  match  for 
the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits,  and  all  five  young  ladies  having, 
in  the  figurative  language  of  the  day,  a  great  amount  of 
steam  to  dispose  of,  the  altercation  would  no  doubt  have 
been  a  long  one  but  for  the  high  valor  and  prowess  of  the 
strong-minded  woman,  who,  in  right  of  her  reputation 
for  powers  of  sarcasm,  did  so  belabor  and  pummel  Mrs. 
Spottletoe  with  taunting  words  that  that  poor  lady,  before 
the  engagement  was  two  minutes  old,  had  no  refuge  but  in 
tears.  These  she  shed  so  plentifully,  and  so  much  to  the 
agitation  and  grief  of  Mr.  Spottletoe,  that  that  gentleman, 
after  holding  his  clenched  fist  close  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes, 
as  if  it  were  some  natural  curiosity  from  the  near  inspection 
whereof  he  was  likely  to  derive  high  gratification  and 
improvement,  and  after  offering  (for  no  particular  reason 
that  any  body  could  discover)  to  kick  Mr.  George  Chuzzle- 
wit  for,  and  in  consideration  of,  the  trifling  sum  of  sixpence, 
took  his  wife  under  his  arm,  and  indignantly  withdrew. 
This  diversion,  by  distracting  the  attention  of  the  combat- 
ants, put  an  end  to  the  strife,  which,  after  breaking  out 
afresh  some  twice  or  thrice  in  certain  inconsiderable  spirts 
and  dashes,  died  away  in  silence. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  once  more  rose  from  his 
chair.  It  v\'as  then  that  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  composed 
themselves  to  look  as  if  there  were  no  such  beings — not  to 
say  present,  but  in  the  whole  compass  of  the  world,  as  the 
three  Miss  Chuzzlewits  ;  while  the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits 
became  equally  unconscious  of  the  existence  of  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs. 

"  It  is  to  be  lamented,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a  forgiving 
recollection  of  Mr.  Spottletoe's  fist,  "  that  our  friend  should 


^^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

have  withdrawn  himself  so  very  hastily,  though  we  have 
cause  for  mutual  congratulations  even  in  that,  since  we  are 
assured  that  he  is  not  distrustful  of  us  in  regard  to  any  thing 
we  may  say  or  do,  while  he  is  absent.  Now,  that  is  very 
soothing,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  Anthony,  who  had  been  watching  the 
whole  party  with  peculiar  keenness  from  the  first  :  *^  don't 
you  be  a  hypocrite." 

"  A  what,  my  good  sir  ? "  demanded  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  A  hypocrite." 

"  Charity,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  when  I  take 
my  chamber  candlestick  to-night,  remind  me  to  be  more 
than  usually  particular  in  praying  for  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzle- 
wit  ;  who  has  done  me  an  injustice." 

This  was  said  in  a  very  bland  voice,  and  aside,  as  being 
addressed  to  his  daughter's  private  ear.  With  a  cheerful- 
ness of  conscience,  prompting  almost  a  sprightly  demeanor, 
he  then  resumed  : 

"  All  our  thoughts  centering  in  our  very  dear,  but  unkind 
relative,  and  he  being  as  it  were  beyond  our  reach,  we  are 
met  to-day,  really  as  if  we  were  a  funeral  party,  except — a 
blessed  exception — that  there  is  no  body  in  the  house." 

The  strong-minded  lady  was  not  at  all  sure  that  this  was 
a  blessed  exception.     Quite  the  contrary. 

"  Well,  my  dear  madam  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Be  that 
as  it  may,  here  we  are  ;  and  being  here,  we  are  to  consider 
whether  it  is  possible  by  any  justifiable  means — " 

"  Why,  you  know  as  well  as  I,"  said  ^the  strong-minded 
lady,  "  that  any  means  are  justifiable  in  such  a  case,  don't 
you?" 

"  Very  good,  my  dear  madam,  very  good  ;  whether  it  is 
possible  by  any  means,  we  will  say  by  any  means,  to  open 
the  eyes  of  our  valued  relative  to  his  present  infatuation. 
Whether  it  is  possible  to  make  him  acquainted  by  any 
means  with  the  real  character  and  purpose  of  that  young 
female  whose  strange  position,  in  reference  to  himself," 
here  Mr.  Pecksniff  sunk  his  voice  to  an  impressive  whisper, 
"  really  casts  a  shadow  of  disgrace  and  shame  upon  this 
family  ;  and  who,  we  know,"  here  he  raised  his  voice  again, 
''  else  why  is  she  his  companion  ?  harbors  the  very  basest 
designs  upon  his  weakness  and    his  property." 

In  their  strong  feeling  on  this  point,  they,  who  agreed  in 
nothing  else,  all  concurred  as  one  mind.  Good  heavens, 
that   she  should  harbor  designs  upon  his  property  !     The 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  67 

strong-minded  lady  was  for  poison,  her  three  daughters 
were  for  Bridewell  and  bread  and  water,  the  cousin  with  the 
toothache  advocated  Botany  Bay,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs 
suggested  flogging.  Nobody  but  Mr.  Tigg,  who,  notwithstand- 
ing his  extreme  shabbiness,  was  still  understood  to  be  in 
some  sort  a  lady's  man,  in  right  of  his  upper  lip  and  his  frogs, 
indicated  a  doubt  of  the  justifiable  nature  of  these  meas- 
ures ;  and  he  only  ogled  the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits  with 
the  least  admixture  of  banter  in  his  admiration,  as 
though  he  would  observe,  ''  You  are  positively  down  upon 
her  to  too  great  an  extent,  my  sweet  creatures,  upon  my  soul 
you  are  !  " 

**  Now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  crossing  his  two  fore-fingers 
in  a  manner  which  was  at  once  conciliatory  and  argumenta- 
tive ;  "  I  will  not,  upon  the  one  hand,  go  so  far  as  to  say  that 
she  deserves  all  the  inflictions  which  have  been  so  very  forci- 
bly and  hilariously  suggested  ;"  one  of  his  ornamental  sen- 
tences ;  "  nor  will  I,  upon  the  other,  on  any  account  com- 
promise my  common  understanding  as  a  man  by  making  the 
assertion  that  she  does  not.  What  I  should  observe  is,  that 
I  think  some  practical  means  might  be  devised  of  inducing 
our  respected,  shall  I  say  our  revered —  ?  " 

*'  No  !  "  interposed  the  strong-minded  woman  in  a  loud 
voice, 

*' Then  I  will  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "You  are  quite 
right,  my  dear  madam,  and  I  appreciate  and  thank  you  for 
your  discriminating  objection — our  respected  relative,  to  dis- 
pose himself  to  listen  to  the  promptings  of  nature,  and  not  to 
the—" 

"  Go  on,  pa  !  "  cried  Mercy. 

'*  Why,  the  truth  is,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling 
upon  his  assembled  kindred,  "  that  I  am  at  a  loss  for  a  word. 
The  name  of  those  fabulous  animals  (pagan,  I  regret  to  say) 
who  used  to  sing  in  the  water  has  quite  escaped  me." 

Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  suggested  "  swans." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ''Not  swans.  Very  like 
swans,  too.     Thank  you," 

The  nephew  with  the  outlme  of  a  countenance,  speaking 
for  the  first  and  last  time  on  that  occasion,  propounded 
"  oysters." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  his  own  peculiar  urbanity, 
**  nor  oysters.  But  by  no  means  unlike  oysters  ;  a  very 
excellent  idea  ;  thank  you,  my  dear  sir,  very  much.  Wait  ! 
Sirens.     Dear  me  !  sirens,  of   course.     I  think,   I   say,  that 


6S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

means  might  be  devised  of  disposing  our  respected  relative 
to  listen  to  the  promptings  of  nature,  and  not  to  the  siren- 
like delusions  of  art.  Now  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that  our  esteemed  friend  has  a  grandson,  to  whom  he 
was,  until  lately,  very  much  attached,  and  whom  I  could  have 
wished  to  see  here  to-day,  for  I  have  a  real  and  deep  regard 
for  him.  A  fine  young  man  ;  a  very  fine  young  man  !  I 
would  submit  to  you,  whether  we  might  not  remove  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit's  distrust  of  us,  and  Aindieate  our  own  disinterest- 
edness by — " 

**  If  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  has  any  thing  to  say  to  ;;/^," 
interposed  the  strong-minded  woman,  sternly,  "  I  beg  him  to 
speak  out  like  a  man  ;  and  not  to  look  at  me  and  my  daugh- 
ters as  if  he  could  eat  us." 

"  As  to  looking,  I  have  heard  it  said,  Mrs.  Ned," 
returned  j\Ir.  George,  angrily,  "  that  a  cat  is  free  to  con- 
template a  monarch  ;  and  therefore  I  hope  I  have  some 
right,  having  been  born  a  member  of  this  family,  to  look  at 
a  person  who  only  came  into  it  by  marriage.  As  to  eating,  I 
beg  to  say,  whatever  bitterness  your  jealousies  and  disap- 
pointed expectations  may  suggest  to  you,  that  I  am  not  a 
cannibal,  ma'am." 

"  I  don't  know  that  !"  cried  the  strong-minded  woman. 

"  At  all  events,  if  I  was  a  cannibal,"  said  Mr.  George 
Chuzzlewit,  greatly  stimulated  by  this  retort,  "  I  think  it 
would  occur  to  me  that  a  lady  who  had  out-lived  three  hus- 
bands and  suffered  so  very  little  from  their  loss,  must  be 
most  uncommonly  tough." 
'The  strong-minded  woman  immediately  rose. 

"  And  I  will  further  add,"  said  Mr.  George,  nodding  his 
head  violently  at  every  second  syllable  ;  "  naming  no  names, 
and  therefore  hurting  nobody  but  those  whose  consciences 
tell  them  they  are  alluded  to,  that  I  think  it  v\-ould  be  much 
more  decent  and  becoming,  if  those  who  hooki.d  and 
crooked  themselves  into  this  family  by  getting  on  the  blind 
side  of  some  of  its  members  before  marriage,  and  manslaugh- 
tering  them  afterward  by  crowing  over  them  to  that  strong 
pitch  that  they  were  glad  to  die,  would  refrain  from  acting 
the  part  of  vultures  in  regard  to  other  members  of  the  fam- 
ily who  are  living.  I  think  it  would  be  full  as  well,  if  not 
better,  if  those  individuals  would  keep  at  home,  contenting 
themselves  with  what  they  have  got  (luckily  for  them) 
already  ;  instead  of  hovering  about,  and  thrusting  their 
fingers    into    a   family   pie,    which  they  flavor  much  more 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  69 

than  enough,  I  can  tell  them,  when  they  are  fifty  miles 
away." 

''  I  might  have  been  prepared  for  this  !  "  cried  the  strong- 
minded  woman,  looking  about  her  with  a  disdainful  smile  as 
she  moved  toward  the  door,  followed  by  her  three  daugh- 
ters ;  "  indeed  I  was  fully  prepared  for  it,  from  the  first. 
What  else  could  I  expect  in  such  an  atmosphere  as 
this  !  " 

''  Don't  direct  your  half-pay-officer's  gaze  at  me,  ma'am, 
if  you  please,"  interposed  Miss  Charity  ;  '*  for  I  won't  bear 
it." 

This  was  a  smart  stab  at  a  pension  enjoyed  by  the  strong- 
minded  woman,  during  her  second  widowhood  and  before 
her  last  coverture.     It  told  immensely. 

"  I  passed  from  the  memory  of  a  grateful  country,  you 
very  miserable  minx,"  said  Mrs.  Ned,  "when  I  entered  this 
family  ;  and  I  feel  now,  though  I  did  not  feel  then,  that  it 
served  me  right,  and  that  I  lost  my  claim  upon  the  United 
Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  when  I  so  degraded 
myself.  Now,  my  dears,  if  you're  quite  ready,  and  have  suf- 
ficiently improved  yourselves  by  taking  to  heart  the  genteel 
exam. pie  of  these  two  young  ladies,  I  think  we'll  go.  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  we  are  very  much  obliged  to  you,  reall}^  We 
came  to  be  entertained,  and  you  have  far  surpassed  our 
utmost  expectations,  in  the  amusement  you  have  provided 
for  us.     Thank  you.     Good-by  !  " 

With  such  departing  words,  did  this  strong-minded  female 
paralyze  the  Pecksniffian  energies  ;  and  so  she  swept  out  of 
the  room,  and  out  of  the  house,  attended  by  her  daughters, 
who,  as  with  one  accord,  elevated  their  three  noses  in  the 
air,  and  joined  in  a  contemptuous  titter.  As  they  passed 
the  parlor  window  on  the  outside,  they  were  seen  to  coun- 
terfeit a  perfect  transport  of  delight  among  themselves;  and 
with  this  final  blow  and  great  discouragement  for  those 
within,  they  vanished. 

Before  Mr.  Pecksniff  or  any  of  his  remaining  visitors  could 
offer  a  remark,  another  figure  passed  this  w^indow,  coming, 
at  a  great  rate,  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  immediately 
afterward  Mr.  Spottletoe  burst  into  the  chamber.  Com- 
pared with  his  present  state  of  heat,  he  had  gone  out  a  man 
of  snow  or  ice.  His  head  distilled  such  oil  upon  his 
whiskers,  that  they  were  rich  and  clogged  with  unctuous 
drops  ;  his  face  was  violently  inflamed,  his  limbs  trembled  ; 
and  he  gasped  and  strove  for  breath. 


70  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  My  good  sir  !  **  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

**0h  yes  !"  returned  the  other.  "  Oh  yes,  certainly!  Oh 
to  be  sure  !  Oh  of  course!  You  hear  him?  You  hear 
him  ?  all  of  you  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  !  "  cried  several  voices. 

**  Oh  nothing  !  "  cried  Spottletoe,  still  gasping.  "  Nothing 
at  all  !  It's  of  no  consequence  !    Ask  him  !  Z^^ 7/ tell  you  !  '" 

**I  do  not  understand  our  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
looking  about  him  in  utter  amazement.  "  I  assure  you  thi  '■ 
he  is  quite  unintelligible  to  me." 

"  Unintelligible,  sir  !  "  cried  the  other.  **  Unintelligible  . 
Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  don't  know  what  has  hap- 
pened ?  That  you  haven't  decoyed  us  here,  and  laid  a  plot 
and  a  plan  against  us  ?  Will  you  venture  to  say  that  you 
didn't  know  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  going,  sir,  and  that  you 
don't  know  he's  gone,  sir  ?  " 

"  Gone  !  "  was  the  general  cry. 

**  Gone,"  echoed  Mr.  Spottletoe.  "  Gone  while  we  were 
sitting  here.  Gone.  Nobody  knows  where  he's  gone.  Oh 
of  course  not  !  Nobody  knew  he  v/as  going.  Oh  of  course 
not  !  The  landlady  thought  up  to  the  very  last  moment 
that  they  were  merely  going  for  a  ridtj  ;  she  had  no  otlier 
suspicion.  Oh  of  course  not !  She's  not  this  fellow's  creat- 
ure.    Oh  of  course  not !  " 

Adding  to  these  exclamations  a  kind  of  ironical  howl,  and 
gazing  upon  the  company  for  one  brief  instant  afterward, 
in  a  sudden  silence,  the  irritated  gentleman  started  off  again 
at  the  same  tremendous  pace,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  assure  them  that  this 
new  and  opportune  evasion  of  the  family  was  at  least  as 
great  a  shock  and  surprise  to  him,  as  to  any  body  else.  Of 
all  the  bullying  and  denunciations  that  were  ever  heaped  on 
one  unlucky  head,  none  can  ever  have  exceeded  in  energy 
and  heartiness  those  with  which  he  was  complimented  by 
each  of  his  remaining  relatives,  singly,  upon  bidding  him 
farewell. 

The  moral  position  taken  by  Mr.  Tigg  was  something 
quite  tremendous  ;  and  the  deaf  cousin,  who  had  the  com- 
plicated aggravation  of  seeing  all  the  proceedings  and  hear- 
ing nothing  but  the  catastrophe,  actually  scraped  her  shoes 
upon  the  scraper,  and  afterward  distributed  impressions  of 
them  all  over  the  top  step,  in  token  that  she  shook  the  dust 
from  her  feet  before  quitting  that  dissembling  and  perfidious 
mansion. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  71 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had,  in  short,  but  one  comfort,  and  that  was 
the  knowledge  that  all  these  his  relations  and  friends  had 
hated  him  to  the  very  utmost  extent  before;  and  that  he, 
for  his  part,  had  not  distributed  among  them  any  more  love, 
than,  with  his  ample  capital  in  that  respect,  he  could  com- 
fortably afford  to  part  with.  This  view  of  his  affairs  yielded 
him  great  consolation;  and  the  fact  deserves  to  be  noted,  aa 
showing  with  what  ease  a  good  man  may  be  consoled  undei 
circumstances  of  failure  and  disappointment. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CONTAINING    A    FULL  ACCOUNT    OP    THE     INSTALLATION    OF 

MR.  Pecksniff's  new  pupil  into  the  bosom  of  mr. 
Pecksniff's  family.  with  all  the  festivities  held 
on  that  occasion,  and  the  great  enjoyment  of  MR. 
pinch. 

The  best  of  architects  and  land  surveyors  kept  a  horse,  in 
whom  the  enemies  already  mentioned  more  than  once  in 
these  pages,  pretended  to  detect  a  fanciful  resemblance  to 
his  master.  Not  in  his  outward  person,  for  he  was  a  raw- 
boned,  haggard  horse,  always  on  a  much  shorter  allowance  of 
corn  than  Mr.  Pecksniff;  but  in  his  moral  character, wherein, 
said  they,  he  was  full  of  promise,  but  of  no  performance. 
He  was  always,  in  a  manner,  going  to  go,  and  never  going. 
When  at  his  slowest  rate  of  traveling,  he  would  sometimes 
lift  up  his  legs  so  high,  and  display  such  mighty  action,  that 
it  was  difficult  to  believe  he  was  doing  less  than  fourteen 
miles  an  hour;  and  he  was  forever  so  perfectly  satisfied  with 
his  own  speed,  and  so  little  disconcerted  by  opportunities  of 
comparing  himself  with  the  fastest  trotters,  that  the  illusion 
was  the  more  difficult  of  resistance.  He  was  a  kind  of 
animal  who  infused  into  the  breasts  of  strangers  a  lively 
sense  of  hope,  and  possessed  all  those  who  knew  him  better 
with  a  grim  despair.  In  what  respect,  having  these  points 
of  character,  he  might  be  fairly  likened  to  his  master,  that 
good  man's  slanderers  only  can  explain.  But  it  is  a  melan- 
choly truth,  and  a  deplorable  instance  of  the  uncharitable- 
ness  of  the  world,  that  they  made  the  comparison. 

In  this  horse,  and  the  hooded  vehicle,  whatever  its  proper 
name  might  be,  to  which  he  was  usually  harnessed — it  was 
more  like  a  gig  with  a  tumor,  than  any  thing  else — all   Mr. 


72  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Pinch's  thoughts  and  wishes  centred,  one  bright,  frosty 
morning;  for,  with  this  gallant  equipage,  he  was  about  to 
drive  to  Salisbury  alone,  there  to  meet  with  the  new 
pupil,  and  thence  to  bring  him  home  in  triumph- 
Blessings  on  thy  simple  heart,  Tom  Pinch,  how  proudly 
dost  thou  button  up  that  scanty  coat,  called  by  a  sad  misno- 
mer, for  these  many  years,  a  "great"  one;  and  how  thor- 
oughly as  with  thy  cheerful  voice  thou  pleasantly  abjurest 
Sam  the  hostler  "not  to  let  him  go  yet,"  dost  thou  believe 
that  quadruped  desires  to  go,  and  would  go  if  he  might  ! 
Who  could  repress  a  smile — of  love  for  thee,  Tom  Pinch, 
and  not  in  jest  at  thy  expense,  for  thou  art  poor  enough 
already,  heaven  knows — to  think  that  such  a  holiday  as  lies 
before  thee,  should  awaken  that  quick  How  and  hurry  of  the 
s[)irits,  in  which  thou  settest  down  again,  almost  untasted, 
on  the  kitchen  window-sill,  the  greet  white  mug  (put  by,  by 
thy  own  hands,  last  night,  that  breaKiasi  mignt  not  hold  thee 
late),  and  layest  yonder  crust  u|)on  the  seat  beside  thee,  to 
be  eaten  on  the  road,  when  thou  art  calmer  in  thy  high 
rejoicing  !  Who,  as  thou  drivest  off,  a  happy  man,  and 
noddest  with  a  grateful  lovingness  to  Pecksniff  in  his  night- 
cap at  his  chamber  window,  would  not  cry:  "  Heaven  speed 
thee,  Tom,  and  send  that  thou  wert  going  off  forever  to 
some  quiet  home  where  thou  mightst  live  at  peace,  and  sor- 
row should  not  touch  thee  !  " 

What  better  time  for  driving,  riding,  walking,  moving 
through  the  air  by  any  means,  than  a  fresh,  frosty  morning 
when  hope  runs  cheerily  through  the  veins  with  the  brisk 
blood,  and  tingles  in  the  frame  from  head  to  foot !  This 
was  the  glad  commencement  of  a  bracing  day  in  early 
winter,  such  as  may  put  the  languid  summer  season  (speak- 
ing of  it  when  it  can't  be  had)  to  the  blush,  and  shame  the 
spring  for  being  sometimes  cold  by  halves.  The  sheep-bells 
rang  as  clearly  in  the  vigorous  air,  as  if  they  felt  its  whole- 
some influence  like  living  creatures;  the  trees,  in  lieu  of 
leaves  or  blossoms,  shed  upon  the  ground  a  frosty  rime  that 
sparkled  as  it  fell,  and  might  have  been  the  dust  of  diamonds. 
So  it  was,  to  Tom.  From  cottage  chimneys,  smoke  went 
streaming  up  higli,  high,  as  if  the  earth  had  lost  its  gross- 
ness,  being  so  fair,  and  must  not  be  oppressed  by  heavy 
vapor.  The  crust  of  ice  on  the  else  rippling  brook  was  so 
transparent  and  so  tliin  in  texture,  tliat  the  lively  water 
might,  of  its  own  free  will  have  stopped — in  Tom's  glad 
mind  it  had — to  look  uj)()n  the    lovely   morning.     And  lest 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  73 

the  sun  should  break  this  charm  too  eagerly,  there  moved 
between  him  and  the  ground,  a  mist  like  that  which  waits 
upon  the  moon  on  summer  nights — the  very  same  to  Tom — 
and  wooed  him  to  dissolve  it  gently. 

Tom  Pinch  went  on;  not  fast,  but  with  a  sense  of  rapid 
motion,  which  did  just  as  well;  and  as  he  went,  all  kinds  of 
things  occurred  to  keep  him  happy.  Thus  when  he  came 
within  sight  of  the  turnpike,  and  was — oh,  a  long  way  off! — 
he  saw  the  tollman's  wife,  who  had  that  moment  checked  a 
wagon,  run  back  into  the  little  house  again  like  mad,  to  say 
(she  knew)  that  Mr.  Pinch  was  coming  up.  And  she  was 
right,  for  when  he  drew  within  hail  of  the  gate,  forth  rushed 
the  tollman's  children,  shrieking  in  tiny  chorus,  "  Mr. 
Pinch!  "  to  Tom's  intense  delight.  The  very  tollman, 
though  an  ugly  chap  in  general,  and  one  whom  folks  were 
rather  shy  of  handling,  came  out  himself  to  take  the  toll,  and 
give  him  rough  good  morning  ;  and  that  with  all  this,  and  a 
glimpse  of  the  family  breakfast  on  a  little  round  table  before 
the  fire,  the  crust  Tom  Pinch  had  brought  away  with  him 
acquired  as  rich  a  flavor  as  though  it  had  been  cut  from  a 
fairy  loaf. 

But  there  was  more  than  this.  It  was  not  only  the  mar- 
ried people  and  the  children  who  gave  Tom  Pinch  a  wel- 
come as  he  passed.  No,  no.  Sparkling  eyes  and  snowy 
breasts  came  hurriedly  to  many  an  upper  casement  as  he 
clattered  by,  and  gave  him  back  his  greeting  ;  not  stinted, 
either,  but  sevenfold,  good  measure.  They  were  all  merry. 
They  all  laughed.  And  some  ^f  the  wickedest  among  them 
even  kissed  their  hanas  as  rom  looked  back.  For  who 
minded  poor  Mr.  Pinch.     There  was  no  harm  in  him. 

And  now  the  morning  grew  so  fair,  and  all  things  were  so 
wide  awake  and  gay,  that  the  sun  seeming  to  say — Tom  had 
no  doubt  he  said — "  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer  ;  I  must  have 
a  look,"  streamed  out  in  radiant  majesty.  The  mist,  too  shy 
and  gentle  for  such  lusty  company,  fled  off,  quite  scared, 
before  it;  and  as  it  swept  away,  the  hills  and  mounds  and 
distant  pasture  lands,  teeming  with  placid  sheep  and  noisy 
crows,  came  out  as  bright  as  though  they  were  unrolled  brand 
new  for  the  occasion.  In  compliment  to  which  discovery, 
the  brook  stood  still  no  longer,  but  ran  briskly  off  to  bear  the 
tidings  to  the  water-mill,  three  miles  away. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  jogging  along,  full  of  pleasant  thoughts  and 
cheerful  influences,  when  he  saw,  upon  the  path  before  him, 
going  in  the  same  direction  with  himself,  a  traveler  on  foot, 


74  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

who  walked  with  a  light,  quick  step,  and  sang  as  he  went; 
for  certain  in  a  very  loud  voice,  but  not  unmusically.  He 
was  a  young  fellow,  of  some  five  or  six-and-twenty,  perhaps, 
and  was  dressed  in  such  a  free  and  fly-away  fashion,  that  the 
long  ends  of  his  loose  red  neck-cloth  were  streaming  out 
behind  him  quite  as  often  as  before;  and  the  bunch  of  bright 
winter  berries  in  the  buttonhole  of  his  velveteen  coat,  was  as 
visible  to  Mr.  Pinch's  rearward  observation,  as  if  he  had  worn 
that  garment  wrong  side  foremost.  He  continued  to  sing  with 
so  much  energy,  that  he  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  wheels 
until  it  was  close  behind  him;  when  he  turned  a  whimsical 
face  and  a  very  merry  pair  of  blue  eyes  on  Mr.  Pinch,  and 
checked  himsell  "iirectly. 

'*  Why,  Mark  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  stopping.  "  Who'd 
have  thought  of  seeing  you  here  ?     Well!  this  is  surprising!  " 

Mark  touched  his  hat,  and  said,  with  a  very  sudden 
decrease  of  vivacity,  that  he  was  going  to  Salisbury. 

"  And  how  spruce  you  are,  too!  "  said  Mr.  Pinch,  surveying 
him  with  great  pleasure.  "  Really,  I  didn't  think  you  were 
half  such  a  tight-made  fellow,  Mark!  " 

"  Thankc'S,  Mr.  Pinch.  Pretty  well  for  that,  I  believe. 
It's  not  my  fault,  you  know.  With  regard  to  being  spruce, 
sir,  that's  where  it  is,  you  see."  And  here  he  looked  partic- 
ularly gloomy. 

''Where  what  is?"  Mr.  Pinch  demanded. 

"  Where  the  aggravation  of  it  is.  Any  man  may  be  in 
good  spirits  and  good  temper  when  he's  well  dressed.  There 
ain't  much  credit  in  that.  If  I  was  very  ragged  and  very 
jolly,  then  I  should  begin  to  feel  I  had  gained  a  point,  Mr. 
Pinch." 

"So  you  were  singing  just  now,  to  bear  up,  as  it  were, 
against  being  well  dressed,  eh,  Mark  ? "  said  Pinch. 

*'  Your  conversation's  always  equal  to  print,  sir,"  rejoined 
Mark,  with  a  broad  grin.     ''  That  was  it." 

"  Well!  "  cried  Pinch,  *'  you  are  the  strangest  young  man, 
Mark,  I  ever  knew  in  my  life.  I  always  thought  so;  but 
now  I  am  quite  certain  of  it.  I  am  going  to  SaUsbury,  too. 
Will  you  get  in  ?     I  shall  be  very  glad  of  your  company." 

The  young  fellow  made  his  acknowledgments  and  accepted 
the  offer;  stepping  into  the  carriage  directly,  and  seating  him- 
self on  the  very  edge  of  the  seat  with  his  body  half  out  of  it, 
to  express  his  being  there  on  sufferance,  and  by  the  polite- 
ness of  Mr.  Pinch.  As  they  went  along,  the  conversation 
proceeded  after  this  manner. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  75 

**  I  more  than  half  believed,  just  now,  seeing  you  so  very 
smart,"  said  Pinch,  ''  that  you  must  be  going  to  be  married, 
Mark." 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  thought  of  that,  too,"  he  replied.  "  There 
might  be  some  credit  in  being  jolly  with  a  wife,  'specially  if 
the  children  had  the  measles  and  that,  and  was  very  frac- 
tious'indeed.  But  I'm  a'most  afraid  to  try  it.  I  don't  see 
my  way  clear." 

"  You're  not  very  fond  of  any  body,  perhaps  ?  "  said  Pinch. 

''  Not  particular,  sir,  I  think." 

"  But  the  way  would  be,  you  know,  Mark,  according  to 
your  views  of  things,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  ''  to  marry  somebody 
you  didn't  like,  and  who  was  very  disagreeable." 

"  So  it  would,  sir  ;  but  that  might  be  carrying  out  a  prin- 
ciple a  little  too  far,  mightn't  it  ? " 

''  Perhaps  it  might,"  said  Mr.  Pinch.  At  which  they  both 
laughed  gayly. 

''  Lord  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mark,  '^  you  don't  half  know 
me,  though.  I  don't  believe  there  ever  was  a  man  as  could 
come  out  so  strong  under  circumstances  that  would  make 
other  meh  miserable,  as  I  could,  if  I  could  only  get  a  chance. 
But  I  can't  get  a  chance.  It's  my  opinion  that  nobody  nev^** 
will  know  half  of  what's  in  me,  unless  something  very  unex- 
pected turns  up.  And  I  don't  see  any  prospect  of  that.  I'm 
a-going  to  leave  the  Dragon,  sir." 

"  Going  to  leave  the  Dragon  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  looking 
at  him  with  great  astonishment.  '*  Why,  Mark,  you  take  my 
breath  away  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  rejoined,  looking  straight  before  him  and  a 
long  way  off,  as  men  do  sometimes  when  they  cogitate  pro- 
foundly. "  What's  the  use  of  my  stopping  at  the  Dragon  .'* 
It  ain't  at  all  the  sort  of  place  for  me.  When  I  left  London 
(I'm  a  Kentish  man  by  birth,  though),  and  took  that  sitiva- 
tion  here,  I  quite  made  up  my  mind  that  it  was  the  dullest 
little  out-of-the-way  corner  in  England,  and  that  there  would 
be  some  credit  in  being  jolly  under  such  circiimstances. 
But,  Lord,  there's  no  dullness  at  the  Dragon  !  Skittles, 
cricket,  quoits,  nine-pins,  comic  songs,  choruses,  company 
round  the  chimney  corner  every  winter's  evening.  Any  man 
could  be  jolly  at  the  Dragon,     There's  no  credit  in  thaty 

''But  if  common  report  be  true  for  once,  Mark,  as  I  think 
it  is,  being  able  to  confirm  it  by  what  I  know  myself,"  said 
Mr.  Pinch,  "  you  are  the  cause  of  half  this  merriment,  and 
set  it  going." 


70  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  There  may  be  something  in  that,  too,  sir,"  answered 
Mark.     ''  But  that's  no  consolation." 

"  Well  !  "  said  Mr.  Pinch,  after  a  short  silence,  his  usually 
subdued  tone  being  even  more  subdued  than  ever.  '^  I  can 
hardly  think  enough  of  what  you  tell  me.  Why,  what  will 
become  of  Mrs.  Lupin,  Mark  ?  " 

Mark  looked  more  fixedly  before  him,  and  further  off  still, 
as  he  ansvv-ered  that  he  didn't  suppose  it  would  be  much  of 
an  object  to  her.  There  were  plenty  of  smart  young  fellows 
as  would  be  glad  of  the  place.     He  knew  a  dozen  himself. 

"  That's  probably  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  ^'but  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  that  Mrs.  Lupin  would  be  glad  of  them.  Why, 
I  always  supposed  that  Mrs.  Lupin  and  you  would  make 
a  match  of  it,  Mark  ;  and  so  did  every  one,  as  far  as  I 
know." 

**  I  never,"  Mark  replied,  in  some  confusion,  "  said  nothing 
as  was  in  a  direct  way  courting-like  to  her,  nor  she  to  me, 
but  I  don't  know  what  I  mightn't  do  one  of  these  odd 
times,  and  what  she  mightn't  say  in  answer.  Well,  sir,  that 
wouldn't  suit." 

""  Not  to  be  landlord  of  the  Dragon,  Mark  ? "  cried  Mr. 
Pinch. 

"  No,  sir,  certainly  not,"  returned  the  other,  withdrawing 
his  gaze  from  the  horizon,  and  looking  at  his  fellow-traveler. 
"  Why,  that  would  be  the  ruin  of  a  man  like  me.  I  go  and 
sit  down  comfortably  for  life,  and  no  man  never  finds  me 
out.  What  would  be  the  credit  of  the  landlord  of  the 
Dragon's  being  jolly?  Why  he  couldn't  help  it,  if  he 
tried." 

*'  Does  Mrs.  Lupin  know  you  are  going  to  leave  her  ? " 
Mr.  Pinch  inquired. 

''  I  haven't  broke  it  to  her  yet,  sir,  but  I  must.  I'm  look- 
ing out  this  morning  for  something  new  and  suitable,"  he 
said,  nodding  toward  the  city. 

*'  What  kind  of  thing  now  ?  "  Mr.  Pinch  demanded. 

*'  I  was  thinking,"  Mark  replied,  "  of  something  in  the 
grave-digging  way." 

"  Good  gracious,  Mark  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

*'  It's  a  good,  damp,  wormy  sort  of  business,  sir,"  said 
Mark,  shaking  his  head,  argumcntatively,  ''  r.nd  there  might 
be  some  credit  in  being  jolly,  with  one's  mind  in  that  ])ur- ' 
suit,  unless  grave-diggers  is  usually  given  that  way  ; 
which  would  be  a  draw]:)ack.  You  don't  happen  to  know 
how  that  is,  in  general,  do  you,  sir  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  77 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "I  don't  indeed.  I  never  thought 
upon  the  subject." 

"  In  case  of  that  not  turning  out  as  well  as  one  could 
wish,  you  know,"  said  Mark,  musing  again,  "  there's  other 
businesses.  Undertaking  now.  That's  gloomy.  There 
might  be  credit  to  be  gained  there.  A  broker's  man  in  a 
poor  neighborhood  wouldn't  be  bad  perhaps.  A  jailor  sees 
a  deal  of  misery.  A  doctor's  man  is  in  the  very  midst  of 
murder.  A  bailiff's  ain't  a  lively  office  nat'rally.  Even  a 
tax-gatherer  must  find  his  feelings  rather  worked  upon  at 
times.  There's  lots  of  trades,  in  which  I  should  have  an 
opportunity,  I  think." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  so  perfectly  overwhelmed  by  these  remarks 
that  he  could  do  nothing  but  occasionally  exchange  a  word 
or  two  on  some  indifferent  subject,  and  cast  sidelong  glances 
at  the  bright  face  of  his  odd  friend  (who  seemed  quite 
unconscious  of  his  observation),  until  they  reached  a  certain 
corner  of  the  road,  close  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  when 
Mark  said  he  would  jump  down  there,  if  he  pleased. 

"  But  bless  my  soul,  Mark,  said  Mr.  Pinch,  who  in  the 
progress  of  his  observation  just  then  made  the  discovery 
that  the  bosom  of  his  companion's  shirt  was  as  much  exposed 
as  if  it  were  midsummer,  and  was  ruffled  by  every  breath  of 
air,  "  why  don't  you  wear  a  waistcoat  ? " 

"  What's  the  good  of  one,  sir  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

*'  Good  of  one  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch.  *'  Why,  to  keep  your 
chest  warm." 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark,  *'  you  don't  know  me. 
My  chest  don't  want  no  warming.  Even  if  it  did,  what 
would  no  waistcoat  bring  it  to  ?  Inflammation  of  the  lungs, 
perhaps  ?  Well,  there'd  be  some  credit  in  being  jolly,  with  a 
inflammation  of  the  lungs." 

As  Mr.  Pinch  returned  no  other  answer  than  such  as  was 
conveyed  in  his  drawing  his  breath  very  hard,  and  opening 
his  eyes  very  wide  and  nodding  his  head  very  much,  Mark 
thanked  him  for  his  ride,  and  without  troubling  him  to  stop, 
jumped  lightly  down.  And  away  he  fluttered,  with  his 
red  neckerchief,  and  his  open  coat,  dov.n  a  cross-lane  ; 
turning,  back  from  time  to  time  to  nod  to  Mr.  Pinch,  and 
looking  one  of  the  most  careless,  good-humored,  comical 
fellows  in  life.  His  late  companion,  with  a  thoughtful  face, 
pursued  his  way  to  Salisbury. 

Mr.  Pinch  had  a  shrewd  notion  that  Salisbury  was  a  very 
desperate  sort  of  place,  an  exceeding  wild  and  dissipated 


78  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

city  ;  and  when  he  had  put  up  the  horse,  and  given  the 
hostler  to  understand  that  he  would  look  in  again  in  the 
course  of  an  hour  or  two  to  see  him  take  his  corn,  he  set  forth 
on  a  stroll  about  the  streets  with  a  vague  and  not  unpleasant 
idea  that  they  teemed  with  all  kinds  of  mystery  and  bedevil- 
ment.  To  one  of  his  quiet  habits  this  little  delusion  was 
greatly  assisted  by  the  circumstance  of  its  being  market-day, 
and  the  thoroughfares  about  the  market-place  being  filled 
with  carts,  horses,  donkeys,  baskets,  wagons,  garden  stuff, 
meat,  tripe,  pies,  poultry,  and  huckster's  wares  of  every 
opposite  description  and  possible  variety  of  character.  Then 
there  were  young  farmers  and  old  farmers,  with  smock- 
frocks,  brown  great-coats,  drab  great-coats,  red  worsted 
comforters,  leather  leggings,  wonderful  shaped  hats,  hunt- 
ing-whips, and  rough  sticks,  standing  about  in  groups,  or 
talking  noisily  together  on  the  tavern  steps,  or  paying  and 
receiving  huge  amounts  of  greasy  wealth,  with  the 
assistance  of  such  bulky  pocket-books  that  when  they  were 
in  their  pockets  it  was  apoplexy  to  get  them  cut,  and  when 
they  were  out  it  was  spasms  to  get  them  in  again.  Also 
there  were  farmers'  wives  in  beaver  bonnets  and  red  cloaks, 
riding  shaggy  horses  purged  of  all  earthly  passions,  who  went 
soberly  into  all  manner  of  places  without  desiring  to  know 
why,  and  who,  if  required,  would  have  stood  stock  still  in  a 
china-shop,  with  a  complete  dinner-service  at  each  hoof. 
Also  a  great  many  dogs,  who  were  strongly  interested  in  the 
state  of  the  market  and  the  bargains  of  their  masters  ;  and 
a  great  confusion  of  tongues,  both  brute  and  human. 

Mr.  Pinch  regarded  every  thing  exposed  for  sale  with  great 
delight,  and  was  particularly  struck  by  the  itinerant  cutlery, 
which  he  considered  of  the  very  keenest  kind,  insomuch 
that  he  purchased  a  pocket  knife  with  seven  blades  in  it, 
and  not  a  cut  (as  he  afterward  found  out)  among  them. 
When  he  had  exhausted  the  market-place,  and  watched  the 
farmers  safe  into  the  market  dinner,  he  went  back  to  look 
after  the  horse.  Having  seen  him  eat  unto  his  heart's  con- 
tent, he  issued  forth  again  to  wander  round  the  town  and 
regale  himself  with  the  shop  windows  ;  previously  taking  a 
long  stare  at  the  bank,  and  wondering  in  what  direction 
underground,  the  caverns  might  be,  where  they  kept  the 
money  ;  and  turning  to  look  back  at  one  or  two  young  men 
who  passed  him,  whom  he  knew  to  be  articled  to  solicitors 
in  the  town  ;  and  who  had  a  sort  of  fearful  interest  in  his 
eyes,  as  jolly  dogs  who  knew  a  thing  or  two,  and  kept  it  up 
tiemcuduuiily. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  79 

But  the  shops.  First  of  all,  there  were  the  jewelers* 
shops,  with  all  their  treasures  of  earth  displayed  therein, 
and  such  large  silver  watches  hanging  up  in  every  pane  of 
glass,  that  if  they  were  any  thing  but  first-rate  goers  it  cer- 
tainly was  not  because  the  works  could  decently  complain  of 
want  of  room.  In  good  sooth  they  were  big  enough,  and 
perhaps,  as  the  saying  is,  ugly  enough,  to  be  the  most  correct 
of  all  mechanical  performers  ;  in  Mr.  Pinch's  eyes,  however, 
they  were  smaller  than  Geneva  ware  ;  and  when  he  saw  one 
very  bloated  watch  announced  as  a  repeater,  gifted  with  the 
uncommon  power  of  striking  every  quarter  of  an  hour  inside 
the  pocket  of  its  happy  owner,  he  almost  wished  that  he  was 
rich  enough  to  buy  it. 

But  what  were  even  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones  and 
clockwork,  to  the  book  shops,  whence  a  pleasant  smell  of 
paper  freshly  pressed  came  issuing  forth,  awakening  instant 
recollections  of  some  new  grammar  had  at  school,  long  time 
ago,  with,  "  Master  Pinch,  Grove  House  Academy,"  inscribed 
in  faultless  writing  on  the  fly-leaf.  That  whiff  of  Russia 
leather,  too,  and  all  those  rows  on  rows  of  volumes,  neatly 
ranged  within  ;  what  happiness  did  they  suggest!  And  in  the 
window  were  the  spick  and  span  new  works  from  London, 
with  the  title  pages  and  sometimes  even  the  first  page  of  the 
first  chapter,  laid  wide  open  ;  tempting  unwary  men  to  begin 
to  read  the  book,  and  then,  in  the  impossibility  of  turning 
over,  to  rush  blindly  in  and  buy  it  !  Here  too  were  the 
dainty  frontispiece  and  trim  vignette,  pointing  like  hand- 
posts  on  the  outskirts  of  great  cities,  to  the  rich  stock  of 
incident  beyond  ;  and  stores  of  books  with  many  a  grave 
portrait  and  time-honored  name,  whose  matter  he  knew  well, 
and  would  have  given  mines  to  have,  in  any  form,  upon  the 
narrov/  shelf  beside  his  bed  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's.  What  a  heart- 
breaking shop  it  was! 

There  was  another  ;  not  quite  so  bad  at  first,  but  still  a 
trying  shop  ;  where  children's  books  were  sold,  and  where 
poor  Robinson  Crusoe  stood  alone  in  his  might,  with  dog 
and  hatchet,  goat-skin  cap  and  fowling-pieces  ;  calmly  sur- 
veying Philip  Quarll  and  a  host  of  imitators  round  him,  and 
calling  Mr.  Pinch  to  witness  that  he,  of  all  the  crowd, 
impressed  one  solitary  foot-print  on  the  shore  of  boyish 
memory,  whereof  the  tread  of  generations  should  not  stir  the 
lightest  grain  of  sand.  And  there  too  were  the  Persian 
tales,  with  flying  chests,  and  students  of  enchanted  books 
shut  up  for  years  in  caverns  ;    and  there  too  was  Abudah, 


^o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  merchant,  with  a  terrible  little  woman  hobbling  out  of 
^he  box  in  his  bedroom  ;  and  there  the  mighty  talisman,  the 
rare  Arabian  Nights,  with  Cassim  Baba,  divided  by  four, 
(ike  the  ghost  of  a  dreadful  sum,  hanging  up,  all  gor}-,  in  the 
vobbers'  cave.  Which  matchless  wonders,  coming  fast  on 
Mr.  Pinch's  mind,  did  so  rub  up  and  chafe  that  wonderful 
(amp  within  him,  that  Vv^hen  he  turned  his  face  toward  the 
busy  street,  a  crowd  of  phantoms  waited  on  his  pleasure, 
and  he  lived  again,  with  new  delight,  the  happy  days  before 
the  Pecksniff  era. 

He  had  less  interest  now  in  the  chemists'  shops,  with  their 
great  glowing  bottles  (with  smaller  repositories  of  brightness 
in  their  very  stoppers);  and  in  their  agreeable  compromises 
between  medicine  and  perfumery,  in  the  shape  of  toothsome 
lozenges  and  virgin  honey.  Neither  had  he  the  least 
regard  (but  he  never  had  much)  for  the  tailors',  where  the 
newest  metropolitan  waistcoat  patterns  were  hanging  up, 
which  by  some  strange  transformation  always  looked  amazing 
there,  and  never  appeared  at  all  like  the  same  thing  anywhere 
else.  But  he  stopped  to  read  the  playbill  at  the  theater,  and 
surveyed  the  doorway  with  a  kind  of  awe,  which  was  not 
diminished  when  a  sallow  gentleman  with  long  dark  hair 
came  out,  and  told  a  boy  to  run  home  to  his  lodging  and 
bring  down  his  broadsword.  Mr.  Pinch  stood  rooted  to  the 
spot  on  hearing  this,  and  might  have  stood  there  until  dark, 
but  that  the  old  cathedral  bell  began  to  ring  for  vesper  serv- 
ice, on  which  he  tore  himself  away. 

Now,  the  organist's  assistant  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pinch's, 
which  was  a  good  thing,  for  he  too  was  a  very  quiet  gentle 
soul,  and  had  been,  like  Tom,  a  kind  of  old-fashioned  boy  at 
school,  though  well-liked  by  the  noisy  fellows  too.  As  good 
luck  would  have  it  (Tom  always  said  he  had  great  good  luck) 
the  assistant  chanced  that  very  afternoon  to  be  on  duty  by 
himself,  with  no  one  in  the  dusty  organ  loft  but  .Tom  ;  so 
while  he  played,  Tom  helped  him  with  the  stops  ;  and  finally, 
the  service  being  just  over,  Tom  took  the  organ  himself.  It 
was  then  turning  dark,  and  the  yellow  light  that  streamed  in 
through  the  ancient  windows  in  the  choir  was  mingled  with  a 
murky  red.  As  the  grand  tones  resounded  through  the  church 
they  seemed,  to  Tom,  to  find  an  echo  in  the  depth  of  every 
ancient  tomb,  no  less  than  in  the  deep  mystery  of  his  own 
heart.  Great  thouglits  and  hopes  came  crowding  on  his  mind 
as  the  rich  music  rolled  upon  the  air,  and  yet  among  them — 
something  more  grave  and  solemn  in  their  purpose,  but  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  8i 

same — were  all  the  images  of  that  day,  down  to  its  very  light- 
est recollection  of  childhood.  The  feeling  that  the  sounds 
awakened,  in  the  moment  of  their  existence,  seemed  to 
include  his  whole  life  and  being;  and  as  the  surrounding 
realities  of  stone  and  wood  and  glass  grew  dimmer  in  the 
darkness,  these  visions  grew  so  much  the  brighter  tliat  Tom 
might  have  forgotten  the  new  pupil  and  the  expectant  mas- 
ter, and  have  sat  there  pouring  out  his  grateful  heart  till  mid- 
night, but  for  a  very  earthly  old  verger  insisting  on  locking 
up  the  cathedral  forthwith.  So  he  took  leave  of  his  friend, 
with  many  thanks,  groped  his  way  out,  as  well  as  he  could, 
into  the  now  lamp-lighted  streets,  and  hurried  off  to  get  his 
dinner. 

All  the  farmers  being  by  this  time  jogging  homewards, 
there  was  nobody  in  the  sanded  parlor  of  the  tavern  where 
he  had  left  the  horse:  so  he  had  his  little  table  drawn  out 
close  before  the  fire,  and  fell  to  work  on  a  well-cooked  steak 
and  smoking  hot  potatoes,  with  a  strong  appreciation  of  their 
excellence,  and  a  very  keen  sense  of  enjoyment.  Beside 
him  too,  there  stood  a  jug  of  most  stupendous  Wiltshire 
beer;  and  the  effect  of  the  Avhole  was  so  transcendant,  that 
he  was  obliged  every  now  and  then  to  lay  down  his  knife 
and  fork,  rub  his  hands,  and  think  about  it.  By  the  time 
the  cheese  and  celery  came,  Mr.  Pinch  had  taken  a  book  out 
of  his  pocket,  and  could  afford  to  trifle  with  the  viands;  now 
eating  a  little,  now  drinking  a  little,  now  reading  a  little, 
and  now  stopping  to  wonder  what  sort  of  a  young  man  the 
new  pupil  would  turn  out  to  be.  He  had  passed  from  this 
latter  theme  and  was  deep  in  his  book  again,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  another  guest  came  in,  bringing  with  him  such 
a  quantity  of  cold  air,  that  he  positively  seemed  at  first  to 
put  the  fire  out. 

"  Very  hard  frost  to-night,  sir,"  said  the  new-comer,  cour- 
teously acknowledging  Mr.  Pinch's  withdrawal  of  the  little 
table,  that  he  might  have  place.     "  Don't  disturb  yourself,  I 

beg-" 

Though  he  said  this  with  a  vast  amount  of  consideration 

for  Mr.  Pinch's  comfort,  he  dragged  one  of  the  great  leather- 
bottomed  chairs  to  the  very  center  of  the  hearth,  notwith- 
standing; and  sat  down  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  a  foot  on 
each  hob. 

*'  My  feet  are  quite  numbed.  Ah!    Bitter  ccld  to  be  sure." 
"  You  have  been  in  the  air  some  considerable  time,  I  dare 
say?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch. 


82  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  All  day.     Outside  a  coach,  too." 

"  That  accounts  for  his  making  the  room  so  cool,"  thouglxt 
Mr.  Pinch.  '^  Poor  fellow!  How  thoroughly  chilled  he 
must  be!  " 

The  stranger  became  thoughtful  likewise,  and  sat  for  five 
or  ten  minutes  looking  at  the  fire  in  silence.  At  length  he 
rose  and  divested  himself  of  his  shawl  and  great  coat,  which 
(far  different  from  Mr.  Pinch's)  was  a  very  warm  and  thick 
one  ;  but  he  was  not  a  whit  more  conversational  out  of  his 
great  coat  than  in  it,  for  he  sat  down  again  in  the  same 
place  and  attitude,  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair  began  to 
bite  his  nails.  He  was  young — one-and  twenty — perhaps — 
handsome,  with  a  keen  dark  eye,  and  a  quickness  of  look 
and  manner  which  made  Tom  sensible  of  a  great  contrast  in 
his  own  bearing,  and  caused  him  to  be  even  more  shy  than 
usual. 

There  was  a  clock  in  the  room  which  the  stranger  often 
turned  to  look  at.  Tom  made  frequent  reference  to  it  also; 
partly  from  a  nervous  sympathy  with  its  taciturn  compan- 
ion and  partly  because  the  new  pupil  was  to  inquire  for  him 
at  half  after  six,  and  the  hands  were  getting  on  toward  that 
hour.  Whenever  the  stranger  caught  him  looking  at  this 
clock,  a  kind  of  confusion  came  upon  Tom  as  if  he  had  been 
found  out  at  something;  and  it  was  a  perception  of  his 
uneasiness  which  caused  the  younger  man  to  say,  perhaps, 
with  a  smile  : 

''  We  both  appear  to  be  rather  particular  about  the  time. 
The  fact  is,  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet  a  gentleman 
here." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"At  half-past  six,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  At  half-past  six,"  said  Tom  in  the  very  same  breath; 
whereupon  the  other  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise. 

*"  The  young  gentleman  I  expect,"  remarked  Tom,  timidly, 
"  was  to  inquire  at  that  time  for  a  person  by  the  name  of 
Pinch." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  cried  the  other,  jumping  up.  "  And  I  have 
been  keeping  the  fire  from  you  all  this  while!  I  had  no 
idea  you  were  Mr.  Pinch.  I  am  the  Mr.  Martin  for  whom 
you  were  to  inquire.  Pray  excuse  me.  How  do  you  do? 
Oh,  do  draw  nearer,  pray!  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom,  *'  thank  you.  I  am  not  at  all 
cold;  and  you  are;  and  we  have  a  cold  ride  before  us.  Well, 
if  you  wish  it,  I  will.  I — I  am  very  glad,"  said  Tom,  smiling 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  83 

with  an  embarrassed  frankness  peculiarly  his,  and  which  was 
as  plainly  a  confession  of  his  own  imperfections,  and  an 
appeal  to  the  kindness  of  the  person  he  addressed,  as  if  he  had 
drawn  one  up  in  simple  language  and  committed  it  tt)  paper; 
"  I  am  very  glad,  indeed,  that  you  turn  out  to  be  the  party  I 
expected.  I  was  thinking,  but  a  minute  ago,  that  I  could 
wish  him  to  be  like  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  returned  Martin,  shaking 
hands  with  him  again  ;  '^  for  I  assure  you,  I  was  thinking 
there  could  be  no  such  luck  as  Mr.  Pinch's  turning  out  like 
you." 

**  No  really  !  "  said  Tom,  with  great  pleasure.  "  Are  you 
serious  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word  I  am,"  replied  his  new  acquaintance. 
"  You  and  I  will  get  on  excellently  well,  I  know  ;  which  it's 
no  small  relief  to  me  to  feel,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  not 
at  all  the  sort  of  fellow  who  could  get  on  with  every  body, 
and  that's  the  point  on  VN^hich  I  had  the  greatest  doubts. 
But  they're  quite  relieved  now. — Do  me  the  favor  to  ring  the 
bell,  will  you?" 

Mr.  Pinch  rose,  and  complied  with  great  alacrity — the 
handle  hung  just  over  Martin's  head,  as  he  warmed  himself 
— and  listened  with  a  smiling  face  to  what  his  friend  went 
on  to  say.     It  was: 

"  If  you  like  punch,  you'll  allow  me  to  order  a  glass 
a-piece  as  hot  as  it  can  be  made,  that  we  may  usher  in  our 
friendship  in  a  becoming  manner.  To  let  you  into  a  secret, 
Mr.  Pinch,  I  never  was  so  much  in  want  of  something  warm 
and  cheering  in  my  life  ;  but  I  didn't  like  to  run  the  chance 
of  being  found  drinking  it,  without  knowing  what  kind  of 
person  you  were  ;  for  first  impressions,  you  know,  often  go  a 
long  way,  and  last  a  long  time." 

Mr.  Pinch  assented,  and  the  punch  was  ordered.  In  due 
course  it  came  ;  hot  and  strong.  After  drinking  to  each 
other  in  the  steaming  mixture,  they  became  quite  confi- 
dential. 

"  I'm  a  sort  of  relation  of  Pecksniff's,  you  know,"  said  the 
young  man. 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Yes.  My  grandfather  is  his  cousin,  so  he's  kith  and  kin 
to  me,  somehow,  if  you  can  make  that  out.     /  can't." 

"  Then  Martin  is  your  Christian  name  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch, 
thoughtfully.     "  Oh  !  " 

*'  Of  course  it  is,"  returned  his  friend;  "  I  wish   it  was  my 


84  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

surname,  for  my  own  is  not  a  very  pretty  one,  and  it  takes  a 
long  time  to  sign.     Chuzzlewit  is  rny  name." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  with  an  involuntary  start. 

"  You're  not  surprised  at  my  having  two  names,  I  sup- 
pose ?"  returned  the  other,  setting  his  glass  to  his  lips. 
"  Most  people  have." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mr  Pinch,  ''  not  at  all.  Oh  dear  no  ! 
Well  !  "  And  then  remembering  tlu^t  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  pri- 
vately cautioned  him  to  say  nothing  in  reference  to  the  old 
gentleman  of  the  same  name  who  had  lodged  at  the  Dragon, 
but  to  reserve  all  mention  of  that  person  for  lum,  iie  had  no 
better  means  of  hiding  his  confusion,  than  by  raising  his 
own  glass  to  his  mouth.  They  looked  at  each  other  out  of 
their  respective  tumblers  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  put 
them  down  empty. 

"  I  told  them  in  the  stable  to  be  ready  for  us  ten  minutes 
ago,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  glancing  at  the  clock  again.  *'  Shall 
we  go  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  returned  the  other. 

*'  Would  you  like  to  drive  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch  ;  his  whole 
face  beaming  with  a  consciousness  of  the  splendor  of  his 
offer.     "  You  shall,  if  you  wish." 

"  Why,  that  depends,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  laughing, 
"  upon  what  sort  of  horse  you  have.  Because  if  he's  a  bad 
one,  I  would  rather  keep  my  hands  warm  by  holding  them 
comfortably  in  my  great  coat  pockets." 

He  appeared  to  think  this  such  a  good  joke,  that  Mr. 
PincVi  was  quite  sure  it  must  be  a  capital  one.  Accordingly 
he  laughed  too,  and  was  fully  pursuaded  that  he  enjoyed  it 
very  much.  Then  he  settled  his  bill,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
paid  for  the  punch;  and  having  wrapped  themselves  up,  to 
the  extent  of  their  respective  means,  they  went  out  together 
to  the  front  door,  where  Mr.  Pecksniff's  property  stopped 
the  way. 

"  I  won't  drive,  thank  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin  get- 
ting into  the  sitter's  place.  "  By-the-by,  there's  a  box  of 
mine.     Can  we  manage  to  take  it  ?  " 

''  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Tom.  "  Put  it  in,  Dick,  any- 
where !  " 

It  was  not  precisely  of  that  convenient  size  which  would 
admit  of  its  being  squeezed  into  an  odd  corner,  but  Dick  the 
hostler  got  it  in  someliow,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  helped  him. 
It  was  all  on  Mr.  Pinch's  side,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  said  he 
was  very  much  afraid  it  would  encumber  him  ;  to  which  Tom 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  85 

said,  ''  Not  at  all  ;  "  though  it  forced  him  into  such  an 
awkward  position  that  he  had  much  ado  to  see  any  thing  but 
his  own  knees.  But  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any 
good;  and  the  wisdom  of  the  saying  was  verified  in  this  in- 
stance ;  for  the  cold  air  came  from  Mr.  Pinch's  side  of  the 
carriage,  and  by  interposing  a  perfect  w^all  of  box  and  man 
between  it  and  the  new  pupil,  he  shielded  that  young  gentle- 
man effectually;  which  was  a  great  comfort. 

It  was  a  clear  evening,  with  a  bright  moon.  The  whole 
landscape  was  silvered  by  its  light  and  by  the  hoar-frost; 
and  every  thing  looked  exquisitely  beautiful.  At  first  the 
great  serenity  and  peace  through  which  they  traveled  dis- 
posed them  both  to  silence;  but  in  a  very  short  time  the 
punch  within  them  and  the  healthful  air  without  made  them 
loquacious,  and  they  talked  incessantly.  When  they  were 
half-way  home,  and  stopped  to  give  the  horse  some  water, 
Martin  (who  was  very  generous  v/ith  his  money)  ordered 
another  glass  of  punch,  which  they  drank  between  them, 
and  which  had  not  the  effect  of  making  them  less  conversa- 
tional than  before.  Their  principal  topic  of  discourse  was 
naturally  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  family;  of  whom,  and  of  the 
great  obligations  they  had  heaped  upon  him,  Tom  Pinch, 
with  the  tears  standing  in  his  eyes,  drew  such  a  picture  as 
v/ould  have  inclined  any  one  of  common  feeling  almost  to 
revere  them ;  and  of  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  the  slight- 
est foresight  or  preconceived  idea,  or  he  certainly  (being 
very  humble)  would  not  have  sent  Tom  Pinch  to  bring  the 
pupil  home. 

In  this  way  they  went  on,  and  on,  and  on — in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  story-books — until  at  last  the  village  lights 
appeared  before  them,  and  the  church  spire  cast  a  long 
reflection  on  the  grave-yard  grass;  rs  if  it  were  a  dial  (alas, 
the  truest  in  the  vv'orld!)  marking,  whatever  light  shone  out 
of  heaven,  the  flight  of  days  and  weeks  and  years,  by  some 
new  shadow  on  that  solemn  ground. 

"A  pretty  church!  "  said  Martin,  observing  that  his  com- 
panion slackened  the  slack  pace  of  the  horse  as  they 
approached. 

"  Is  it  not  ?  "  cried  Tom,  with  great  pride.  ''  There's 
the  sweetest  little  organ  there  vou  ever  heard.  I  play  it  for 
them." 

**  Indeed  ? "  said  Martin.  "  It's  hardly  worth  the  trouble, 
i  should  think.     What  do  you  get  for  that,  now  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Tom. 


S6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Well,"  returned  his  friend,  "you  are  a  very  strange  fel- 
low! " 

To  which  remark  there  succeeded  a  brief  silence. 

"  When  I  say  nothing,"  observed  Mr,  Pinch,  cheerfully, 
"  I  am  wrong,  and  don't  say  what  I  mean,  because  I  get  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  from  it,  and  the  means  of  passing 
some  of  the  happiest  hours  I  know.  It  led  to  something 
else  the  other  day;  but  you  will  not  care  to  hear  about  that, 
I  dare  say  ?  ** 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall.     What  ?  " 

"  It  led  to  my  seeing,"  said  Tom,  in  a  lower  voice,  *'one 
of  the  loveliest  and  most  beautiful  faces  you  can  possibly 
picture  to  yourself." 

"And  yet  I  am  able  to  picture  a  beautiful  one,"  said  his 
friend,  thoughtfully,  ''  or  should  be,  if  I  have  any  mem- 
ory." 

"  She  came,"  said  Tom,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  other's 
arm,  "  for  the  first  time,  very  early  in  the  morning,  when  it 
was  hardly  light;  and  when  I  saw  her,  over  my  shoulder, 
standing  just  within  the  porch,  I  turned  quite  cold,  almost 
believing  her  to  be  a  spirit.  A  moment's  reflection  got  the 
better  of  that,  of  course,  and  fortunately  it  came  to  my  relief 
so  soon,  that  I  didn't  leave  off  playing." 

"  Why  fortunately  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Because  she  stood  there,  listening.  I  had  my 
spectacles  on,  and  saw  her  through  the  chinks  in  the  cur- 
tains as  plainly  as  I  see  you;  and  she  was  beautiful.  After 
a  while  she  glided  off,  and  I  continued  to  play  until  she  was 
out  of  hearing." 

"  Why  did  you  do  that  ? " 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  "  responded  Tom.  *'  Because  she  might 
suppose  I  hadn't  seen  her,  and  might  return." 

"And  did  she?" 

"  Certainly  she  did  Next  morning,  and  nejrt  evening, 
too;but  always  when  there  were  no  people  about,  and  always 
alone.  I  rose  early  and  sat  there  later,  that  when  she  came 
she  might  find  the  church  door  open,  and  the  organ  playing, 
and  might  not  be  disappointed.  She  strolled  that  way  for 
some  days,  and  always  staid  to  listen.  But  she  is  gone  nov>', 
and  of  all  unlikely  things  in  this  wide  world  it  is  perhaps 
the  most  improbable  that  I  shall  ever  look  upon  her  face 
again." 

"  You  don't  know  any  thing  more  about  her  ? " 

"No." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  87 

"  And  you  never  followed  her  when  she  went  away  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  distress  her  by  doing  that  ? "  said  Tom 
Pinch,  "  Is  it  likely  that  she  wanted  ?ny  company  ?  She 
came  to  hear  the  organ,  not  to  see  me;  and  would  you  have 
had  me  scare  her  from  a  place  she  seemed  to  grow  quite 
fond  of  ?  Now,  heaven  bless  her!  "  cried  Tom,  ''  to  have 
given  her  but  a  minute's  pleasure  every  day,  I  would  have 
gone  on  playing  the  organ  at  those  times  until  I  was  an  old 
man;  quite  contented  if  she  sometimes  thought  of  a  poor 
fellow  like  me,  as  a  part  of  the  music;  and  more  than  recom- 
pensed if  she  ever  mixed  me  up  with  any  thing  she  liked  as 
well  as  she  liked  that!  " 

The  new  pupil  was  clearly  very  much  amazed  by  Mr, 
Pinch's  weakness,  and  would  probably  have  told  him  so, 
and  given  him  some  good  advice,  but  for  their  opportune 
arrival  at  ?\Ir.  Pecksniff's  door;  the  front  door  this  time, 
on  account  of  the  occasion  being  one  of  ceremony  and 
rejoicing.  The  same  man  was  in  waiting  for  the  horse  who 
had  been  adjured  by  Mr.  Pinch  in  the  morning  not  to  yield 
to  his  rabid  desire  to  start;  and  after  delivering  the  animal 
into  his  charge,  and  beseeching  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  a  whisper 
never  to  reveal  a  syllable  of  what  he  had  just  told  him  in  the 
fullness  of  his  heart,  Tom  led  the  pupil  in,  for  instant  pre- 
sentation. 

Mr,  Pecksniff  had  clearly  not  expected  them  for  hours  to 
come;  for  he  was  surrounded  by  open  books,  and  v/as 
glancing  from  volume  to  volume,  with  a  black  lead  pencil 
in  his  mouth,  and  a  pair  of  compasses  in  his  hand,  at  a  vast 
number  of  mathematical  diagrams,  of  such  extraordinary 
shapes  that  they  looked  like  designs  for  fireworks.  Neither 
had  Miss  Charity  expected  them,  for  she  was  busied,  with  a 
capacious  wicker  basket  before  her,  in  making  impracticable 
nightcaps  for  the  poor.  Neither  had  Miss  Mercy  expected 
them,  for  she  Vv^as  sitting  upon  her  stool,  tying  on  the — oh, 
good  gracious! — the  petticoat  of  a  large  doll  that  she  was 
dressing  for  a  neighbor's  child;  really  quite  a  grown-up  doll, 
which  made  it  more  confusing;  and  had  its  little  bonnet 
dangling  by  the  ribbon  from  one  of  her  fair  curls,  to  which 
she  had  fastened  it,  lest  it  should  be  lost,  or  sat  upon.  It 
would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  conceive  a  family  so 
thoroughly  taken  by  surprise  as  the  Pecksniffs  were  on  this 
occasion, 

"  Bless  my  life!  "  said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  looking  up,  and  grad- 
ually exchanging  his  abstracted  face  for  one  of  joyful  recogni- 


88  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

tion.  **  Here  already!  Martin,  my  dear  boy,  I  am  delighted 
to  welcome  you  to  my  poor  house!  " 

With  this  kind  greeting,  Mr.  Pecksniff  fairly  took  him  to 
his  arms,  and  patted  him  several  times  upon  the  back  with 
his  right  hand  the  while,  as  if  to  express  that  his  feelings 
during  the  embrace  were  too  much  for  utterance. 

"  But  here,"  he  said,  recovering,  "  are  my  daughters,  Mar- 
tin; my  two  only  children,  whom  (if  you  ever  saw  them)  you 
have  not  beheld — ah,  these  sad  family  divisions! — since  you 
were  infants  together.  Nay,  my  dears,  why  blush  at  being 
detected  in  your  every  day  pursuits?  We  had  prepared  to 
give  you  the  reception  of  a  visitor,  Martin,  in  our  little  room 
of  state,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling,  "but  I  like  this  better, 
I  like  this  better!  " 

Oh,  blessed  star  of  innocence,  wherever  you  may  be,  how 
did  you  glitter  in  your  home  of  ether,  when  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs  put  forth,  each  her  lily  hand,  and  gave  the  same, 
with  mantling  cheeks,  to  Martin!  How  did  you  tv>'inkle, 
as  if  fluttering  with  sympathy,  when  Mercy,  reminded  of 
the  bonnet  in  her  hair,  hid  her  fair  face  and  turned  her 
head  aside;  the  while  her  gentle  sister  plucked  it  out,  and 
smote  her,  with  a  sister's  soft  reproof,  upon  her  buxom  shoul- 
der! 

"  x\nd  how,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  around  after  the 
contemplation  of  these  passages,  and  taking  Mr.  Pinch  in  a 
friendly  manner  by  tiie  elbow,  *'  how  has  our  friend  here  used 
you,  Martin? " 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  sir.  We  are  on  the  best  terms,  I  assure 
you." 

"  Old  Tom  Pinch!  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  on  him  with 
affectionate  sadness.  "Ah!  It  seems  but  yesterday  that 
Thomas  was  a  boy,  fresh  from  a  scliolastic  course.  Yet  years 
have  passed,  I  think,  since  Thomas  Pinch  and  I  first  walked 
the  world  together!  " 

Mr.  Pinch  could  say  nothing.  He  was  too  much 
moved.  But  he  pressed  his  master's  hand,  and  tried  to 
thank  him. 

"And  Thomas  Pinch  and  I,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a 
deeper  voice,  "  will  walk  it  yet,  in  mutual  faithfulness  and 
friendshi})!  And  if  it  comes  to  pass  that  either  of  us  be  run 
over,  in  any  of  those  l)usy  crossings  which  di\'ide  the  streets 
of  life,  the  other  will  convey  hnn  to  the  hos})ital  in  hope,  and 
sit  beside  his  bed  in  bounty!  " 

"  Well,  well,  well!  "  he  added  in  a  happier  tone,  as  he  shook 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  89 

Mr.  Pinch's  elbow,  hard.  "  No  more  of  this!  Martin,  my 
dear  friend,  that  you  may  be  at  home  witliin  these  walls,  let 
me  shov/  you  how  we  live,  and  where.     Come!  " 

With  that  he  took  up  a  lighted  candle,  and,  attended  by 
his  young  relative,  prepared  to  leave  the  room.  At  the  door 
he  stopped. 

*'  You'll  bear  us  company,  Tom  Pinch?" 

Ay,  cheerfully,  though  it  had  been  to  death,  would  Tom 
have   followed  him;  glad  to   lay  down   his   life  for   such  a 


man 


"  This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  opening  the  door  of  an  oppo- 
site parlor,  "  is  the  little  room  of  state  I  mentioned  to  you. 
My  girls  have  pride  in  it,  Martin  !  This,"  opening  another 
door,  "  is  the  little  chamber  in  which  my  works  (slight 
things  at  best)  have  been  concocted.  Portrait  of  myself  by 
Spiller.  Bust  by  Spoker.  The  latter  is  considered  a  good 
likeness.  1  seem  to  recognize  something  about  the  left-hand 
corner  of  the  nose,  myself." 

Martin  thought  it  was  very  like,  but  scarcely  intellectual 
enough.  Mr.  Pecksniff  observed  that  the  same  fault  had 
been  found  with  it  before.  It  was  remarkable  it  should  have 
struck  his  young  relation  too.  Pie  was  glad  to  see  he  had  an 
eye  for  art. 

''  Various  books  you  observe,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  waving 
his  hand  toward  the  wall,  "  connected  with  our  pursuit.  I 
have  scribled  myself,  but  have  not  yet  published.  Be  care- 
ful how  you  come  up-stairs.  "  This,"  opening  another  door, 
*'  is  my  chamber.  I  read  here  when  the  family  suppose  I 
have  retired  to  rest.  Sometimes  I  injure  my  health,  rather 
more  than  I  can  quite  justify  myself  by  doing  so  ;  but  art  is 
long  and  time  is  short.  Every  facility  you  see  for  jotting 
down  crude  notions,  even  here." 

These  latter  words  were  explained  by  his  pointing  to  a 
small  round  table  on  which  were  a  lamp,  divers  sheets  of 
paper,  a  piece  of  India  rubber,  and  a  case  of  instruments  ; 
all  put  ready,  in  case  an  architectural  idea  should  come  into 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  head  in  the  night,  in  which  event  he  would 
instantly  leap  out  of  bed,  and  fix  it  forever. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  opened  another  door  on  the  same  floor,  and 
shut  it  again,  all  at  once,  is  if  it  were  a  blue  chamber.  But 
before  he  had  well  done  so,  he  looked  smilingly  round,  and 
said  "  Why  not  ?  " 

Martin  couldn't  say  why  not,  because  he  didn't  know  any 
thing  at  all  about  it.  So  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered  himself,  by 
throwing  open  the  door  and  saying  : 


90  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  My  daughters'  room.  A  poor  first  floor  to  us,  but  a 
bower  to  them.  Very  neat.  Very  airy.  Plants  you  observe, 
hyacinths  ;  books  again  ;  birds."  These  birds,  by-the-by, 
comprised,  in  all,  one  staggering  old  sparrow  without  a  tail, 
which  had  been  borrowed  expressly  from  the  kitchen.  "  Such 
trifles  as  girls  love  are  here.  Nothing  more.  Those  who 
seek  heartless  splendor,  seek  here  in  vain." 

With  that  he  led  them  to  the  floor  above. 

**  This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  throwing  wide  the  door  of  the 
memorable  two-pair  front  ;  "  is  a  room  where  some  talent 
has  been  developed,  I  believe.  This  is  a  room  in  which  an 
idea  for  a  steeple  occurred  to  me  that  I  may  one  day  give 
to  the  world.  We  work  here,  my  dear  Martin.  wSome  archi- 
tects have  been  bred  in  this  room  ;  a  few,  I  think,  Mr. 
Pinch  ?  " 

Tom  fully  assented  ;  and  what  is  more,  fully  believed  it. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  passing  the  candle  rapidly 
from  roll  to  roll  of  paper,  ''  some  traces  of  our  doings  here. 
Salisbury  Cathedral  from  the  north.  From  the  south.  From 
the  east.  From  the  west.  From  the  south-east.  From  the 
nor'-west.  A  bridge.  An  alms-house.  A  jail.  A  church 
A  powder-magazine.  A  wine  cellar,  A  portico.  A  sum 
mer-house.  An  ice-house.  Plans,  elevations,  sections,  every 
kind  of  thing.  And  this,"  he  added,  having  by  this  time 
reached  another  large  chamber  on  the  same  story,  with  four 
little  beds  in  it,  "  this  is  your  room,  of  which  Mr.  Pinch 
here  is  the  quiet  sharer.  A  southern  aspect;  a  charming 
prospect  ;  Mr.  Pinch's  little  library,  you  perceive  ;  every 
thing  agreeable  and  appropriate.  If  there  is  any  additional 
comfort  you  would  desire  to  have  here  at  any  time,  pray 
mention  it.  Even  to  strangers,  far  less  to  you,  my  dear 
Martin,  there  is  no  restriction  on  that  point." 

It  was  undoubtedly  true,  and  may  be  stated  in  corrobora- 
tion of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  that  any  pupil  had  the  most  liberal 
permission  to  mention  any  thing  in  this  way  that  suggested 
itself  to  his  fancy.  Some  young  gentlemen  had  gone  on 
mentioning  the  very  same  thing  for  five  years  without  ever 
being  stopped. 

"  The  domestic  assistants,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  sleep 
above  ;  and  that  is  all."  After  which,  and  listening  compla- 
cently as  he  went,  to  the  encomiums,  passed  by  his  young 
friend  on  the  arrangements  generally,  he  led  the  way  to  the 
parlor  again. 

Here  a  great  change  had  taken  place  ;  for  festive  prepara- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  91 

tions  on  a  rather  extensive  scale  were  already  completed,  and 
the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  were  awaiting  their  return  with  hos- 
pitable looks.  There  were  two  bottles  of  current  wine,  white 
and  red  ;  a  dish  of  sandwiches  (very  long  and  very  slim)  ; 
another  of  apples  ;  another  of  captain's  biscuits  (which  are 
always  a  moist  and  jovial  sort  of  viand)  ;  a  plate  of  oranges 
cut  up  small  and  gritty  ;  with  powdered  sugar,  and  a  highly 
geological  home-made  cake.  The  magnitude  of  these  prepara- 
tions quite  took  away  Tom  Pinch's  breath  ;  for  though  the 
new  pupils  were  usually  let  down  softly,  as  one  may  say, 
particularly  in  the  wine  department,  which  had  so  many 
stages  of  declension,  that  sometimes  a  young  gentleman 
was -a  whole  fortnight  in  getting  to  the  pump;  still  this  was 
a  banquet  ;  a  sort  of  lord  mayor's  feast  in  private  life  ; 
a  something  to  think  of,  and  hold  on  by,   afterward. 

To  this  entertainment,  which  apart  from  its  own  intrinsic 
merits  had  the  additional  choice  quality,  that  it  was  in 
strict  keeping  with  the  night,  being  both  light  and  cool,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  besought  the  company  to  do  full  justice. 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  "  will  seat  himself  between  you  two, 
my  dears,  and  Mr.  Pinch  will  come  by  me.  Let  us  drink  to 
our  new  inmate,  and  may  we  be  happy  together  !  Martin, 
my  dear  friend,  my  love  to  you  !  Mr.  Pinch,  if  you  spare 
the  bottle  we  shall  quarrel." 

And  trying  (in  his  regard  for  the  feelings  of  the  rest)  to 
look  as  if  the  wine  were  not  acid  and  didn't  make  him  wink, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  did  honor  to  his  own  toast. 

"  This,"  he  said,  in  allusion  to  the  party,  not  the  wine,  "is 
a  mingling  that  repays  one  for  much  disappointment  and 
vexation.  Let  us  be  merry."  Here  he  took  a  captain's 
biscuit.  "  It  is  a  poor  heart  that  never  rejoices  ;  and  our 
hearts  are  not  poor.     No  !  " 

With  such  stimulants  to  merriment  did  he  beguile  the 
time,  and  do  the  honors  of  the  table  ;  while  Mr.  Pinch,  per- 
haps to  assure  himself  that  what  he  saw  and  heard  was  holi- 
day reality,  and  not  a  charming  dream,  ate  of  every  thing,  and 
in  particular  disposed  of  the  slim  sandwiches  to  a  surpris- 
ing extent.  Nor  was  he  stinted  in  his  draughts  of  wine;  but 
on  the  contrary,  remembering  Mr.  Pecksniff's  speech, 
attacked  the  bottle  with  such  vigor,  that  every  time  he  filled 
his  glass  anew,  Miss  Charity,  despite  her  amiable  resolves, 
could  not  repress  a  fixed  and  stony  glare,  as  if  her  eyes  had 
rested  on  a  ghost.  Mr.  Pecksniff  also  became  thoughtful  at 
those  moments,  not  to    say   dejected  ;  but   as  he   knew  ^4ift 


92  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

vintage,  it  is  very  likely  he  may  have  been  speculating  on 
the  probable  condition  of  Mr.  Pinch  upon  the  morrow, 
and  discussing  with  himself  the  best  remedies  for  colic. 

Martin  and  the  young  ladies  were  excellent  friends  already, 
and  compared  recollections  of  their  childish  days,  to  their 
mutual  liveliness  and  entertainment.  Miss  Mercy  laughed 
immensely  at  everything  that  was  said;  and  sometimes,  after 
glancing  at  the  happy  face  of  Mr.  Pinch,  was  seized  v/ith  such 
fits  of  mirth  as  brought  her  to  the  very  confines  of  hysterics. 
But  for  these  bursts  of  gayety,  her  sister,  in  her  better  sense, 
reproved  her  ;  observing,  in  an  angry  whisper,  that  it  was 
far  from  being  a  theme  for  jest  ;  and  that  she  had  no 
patience  with  the  creature  ;  though,  it  generally  ended  in  her 
laughing  too — but  much  more  moderately — and  saying  that 
indeed  it  was  a  little  too  ridiculous  and  intolerable  to  be 
serious  about. 

At  length  it  became  high  time  to  remember  the  first 
clause  of  that  great  discovery  made  by  the  ancient  philos- 
pher,  for  securing  health,  riches,  and  wisdom  ;  the  infalli- 
bility of  which  has  been  for  generations  verified  by  the 
enormous  fortunes  constantly  amassed  by  chimney-sweepers 
and  other  persons  who  get  up  early  and  go  to  bed  betimes. 
The  young  ladies  accordingly  rose,  and  having  taken  leave 
of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  with  much  sweetness,  and  of  their  father 
with  much  duty,  and  Mr.  Pinch  with  much  condescension, 
retired  to  their  bower.  Mr.  Pecksniff  insisted  on  accom- 
panying his  young  friend  up-stairs,  for  personal  superintend- 
ence of  his  comforts;  and  taking  him  by  the  a,rm,  conducted 
him  once  more  to  his  bed-room,  followed  by  Mr.  Pinch,  who 
bore  the  light. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  seating  himself  with  folded 
arms  on  one  of  the  spare  beds,  "  I  don't  see  any  snuffers 
in  that  candlestick.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  going  down, 
and  asking  for  a  pair  ?  " 

Mr.  Pinch,  only  too  happy  to  be  useful,  went  off  directly. 

"  You  will  excuse  Thomas  Pinch's  want  of  polish,  Martin," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  smile  of  patronage  and  pity,  as 
soon  as  he  had  left  the  room.     "  He  means  well." 

"  He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  sir." 

'' Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Yes.  Thomas  Pinch 
means  well.  He  is  very  grateful.  I  have  never  regretted 
having  befriended  Thomas  Pinch." 

''I  should  think  you  never  would,  sir." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  No.      I  hope  not.     J\)or  fel- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  93 

low,  he  is  always  disposed  to  do  his  best  ;  but  he  is  not 
gifted.  You  will  make  him  useful  to  you,  Martin,  if  you 
please.  If  Thomas  has  a  fault,  it  is  that  he  is  sometimes  a 
little  apt  to  forget  his  position.  But  that  is  soon  checked. 
Worthy  soul  !  You  will  find  him  easy  to  manage.  Good- 
night !  " 

''  Good-night,  sir." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Pinch  had  reti^rned  with  the  snuffers. 

"  And  good-night  to  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  *'And 
sound  sleep  to  you  both.     Bless  you  !     Bless  you  !  " 

Invoking  this  benediction  on  the  heads  of  his  young 
friends  with  great  fervor,  he  withdrew  to  his  own  room  ; 
while  they,  being  tired,  soon  fell  asleep.  If  Martin  dreamed 
at  all,  some  clew  to  the  matter  of  his  visions  may  possibly  be 
gathered  from  the  after-pages  of  this  history.  Those  of 
Thomas  Pinch  were  all  of  holidays,  church  organs,  and 
seraphic  Pecksniffs.  It  was  some  time  before  Mr.  Pecksniff 
dreamed  at  all,  or  even  sought  his  pillow,  as  he  sat  for  full 
two  hours  before  the  fire  in  his  ov/n  chamber  looking  at  the 
coals  and  thinking  deeply.  But  he,  too,  slept  and  dreamed 
at  last.  Thus  in  the  quiet  hours  of  the  night,  one  house 
shuts  in  as  many  incoherent  and  incongruous  fancies  as  a 
madman's  head. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

COMPRISES,  AMONG  OTHER  IMPORTANT  MATTERS,  PECK- 
SNIFFIAN  AND  ARCHITECTURAL,  AN  EXACT  RELATION 
OF  THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  MR.  PINCH  IN  THE  CONFI- 
DENCE   AND    FRIENDSHIP    OF    THE    NEW    PUPIL. 

It  was  morning  ;  and  the  beautiful  Aurora,  of  whom  so 
much  has  been  written,  said,  and  sung,  did,  v/ith  her  rosy 
fingers,  nip  and  tweak  Miss  Pecksniff's  nose.  It  was  the 
frolicsome  custom  of  the  goddess  in  her  intercourse  with  the 
fair  Cherry  so  to  do  :  or  in  more  prosaic  phrase,  the  tip  of 
that  feature  in  the  sweet  girl's  countenance,  was  always  very 
red  at  breakfast- time.  For  the  most  part,  indeed,  it  wore,  at 
that  season  of  the  day,  a  scraped  and  frosty  look,  as  if  it  had 
been  rasped  ;  while  a  similar  phenomenon  developed  itself  in 
her  humor,  which  was  then  observed  to  be  of  a  sharp  and  acid 
quality,  as  though  an  extra  lemon  (figuratively  speaking)  had 
been  squeezed  into  the  nectar  of  her  disposition,  and  had 
rather  damaged  its  flavor. 


94  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

This  additional  pungency  on  the  part  of  the  fair  young 
creature,  led  on  ordinary  occasions,  to  such  slight  conse- 
quences as  the  copious  dilution  of  Mr.  Pinch's  tea,  or  to  his 
coming  off  uncommonly  short  in  respect  of  butter,  or  to  other 
the  like  results.  But  on  the  morning  after  the  installation 
banquet,  she  suffered  him  to  wander  to  and  fro  among  the 
eatables  and  drinkables,  a  perfectly  free  and  unchecked  man  ; 
so  utterly  to  Mr.  Pinch'^  wonder  and  confusion  that  like  the 
wretched  captive  who  recovered  his  liberty  in  his  old  age,  he 
could  make  but  little  use  of  his  enlargement,  and  fell  into  a 
strange  kind  of  flutter  f'or^want  of  some  kind  hand  to  scrape 
his  bread,  and  cut  him  off  in  the  article  of  sugar  with  a  lump, 
and  pay  him  those  other  little  attentions  to  which  he  was 
accustomed.  There  was  something  almost  awful,  too,  about 
the  self-possession  of  the  new  pupil ;  who  "  troubled  "  Mr, 
Pecksniff  for  the  loaf,  and  helped  himself  to  a  rasher  of  that 
gentleman's  own  particular  and  private  bacon,  with  all  the 
coolness  in  life.  He  even  seemed  to  think  that  he  was  doing 
quite  a  regular  thing,  and  to  expect  that  Mr.  Pinch  would 
follow  his  example,  since  he  took  occasion  to  observe  of 
that  young  man  ^'  that  he  didn't  get  on  ;  "  a  speech  of  so 
tremendous  a  character,  that  Tom  cast  down  his  eyes  invol- 
untarily, and  felt  as  if  he  himself  had  committed  some  horri- 
ble deed  and- heinous  breach  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  confidence. 
Indeed,  the  agony  of  having  such  an  indiscreet  remark 
addressed  to  him  before  the  assembled  family,  was  breakfast 
enough  in  itself,  and  would,  w^ithout  any  other  matter  of 
reflection,  have  settled  Mr.  Pinch's  business  and  quenched 
his  appetite  for  one  meal,  though  he  had  been  never  so 
hungry. 

The  young  ladies,  however,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  likewise, 
remained  in  the  very  best  of  spirits  in  spite  of  these  severe 
trials,  though  with  something  of  a  mysterious  understanding 
among  themselves.  When  the  meal  was  nearly  over,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  smilingly  explained  the  cause  of  their  common 
satisfaction. 

"  It  is  not  often,"  he  said,  "Martin,  that  my  daughters 
and  I  desert  our  quiet  home  to  pursue  the  giddy  round  of 
pleasures  that  revolves  abroad.  But  we  think  of  doing  so 
to-day." 

'*  Indeed,  sir  !  "  cried  the  new  pupil. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tapping  his  left  hand  with  a 
letter  which  he  held  in  his  right.  "  I  have  a  summons  here 
to   repair  to    London ;    on  professional   business,  my  dear 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  95 

Martin  ;  strictly  on  professional  business  ;  and  I  promised  m/ 
girls,  long  ago,  that  whenever  that  happened  again,  they 
should  accompany  me.  We  shall  go  forth  to-night  by  the 
heavy  coach — like  the  dove  of  old,  my  dear  Martin — and  it 
will  be  a  week  before  we  again  deposit  our  olive-branches  in 
the  passage.  When  I  say  olive  branches."  observed  Mr. 
Pecksniff  in  explanation,  "  I   mean  our   unpretending   lug- 

g^^"-"  .  ..... 

"  I  hope  the  young  ladies  will  enjoy  their  trip,"  said  Mar- 
tin. 

"  Oh!  that  I'm  sure  we  shall  I  "  cried  Mercy,  clapping  her 
hands.  *'  Good  gracious,  Cherry,  my  darling,  the  idea  of 
LondonI " 

"Ardent  child!  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gazing  on  her  in  a 
dreamy  way.  *'And  yet  there  is  a  melancholy  sweetness  in 
these  youthful  hopes!  It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  they  never 
can  be  realized.  I  remember  thinking  once  myself,  in  the 
days  of  my  childhood,  that  pickled  onions  grew  on  trees,  and 
that  every  elephant  was  born  with  an  impregnable  castle  on 
his  back.  I  have  not  found  the  fact  to  be  so;  far  from  it; 
and  yet  those  visions  have  comforted  me  under  circum- 
stances of  trial.  Even  when  I  have  had  the  anguish  of  dis- 
covering that  I  have  nourished  in  my  breast  an  ostrich,  and 
not  a  human  pupil;  even  in  that  hour  of  agony  they  have 
soothed  me." 

At  this  dread  allusion  to  John  Westlock,  Mr.  Pinch  pre- 
cipitately choked  in  his  tea;  for  he  had  that  very  morning 
received  a  letter  from  him,  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  very  well  knew. 

"  You  will  take  care,  my  dear  Martin,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, resuming  his  former  cheerfulness,  "  that  the  house 
does  not  run  away  in  our  absence.  We  leave  you  in  charge 
of  ever}-  thing.  There  is  no  mystery;  all  is  free  and  open. 
Unlike  the  young  man  in  the  eastern  tale — vrho  is  described 
as  a  one-eyed  almanac,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  '* 

"  A  one-eyed  calendar,  I  think,  sir,"  faltered  Tom. 

"  They  are  pretty  nearly  the  same  thing,  I  believe,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  compassionately;  "or  they  used  to  be 
in  my  time.  Unlike  that  young  man,  my  dear  Martin,  you 
are  forbidden  to  enter  no  corner  of  this  house,  but  are 
requested  to  make  yourself  perfectly  at  home  in  every  part 
of  it.  You  will  be  jovial,  my  dear  Martin,  and  will  kill  the 
fatted  calf  if  you  please!  " 

There  was  not  the  least  objection,  doubtless,  to  the  young 
man's  slaughtering  and  appropriating  to  his  own  use  any  calf. 


96  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

fat  or  lean,  that  he  might  happen  to  find  upon  the  premises; 
but  as  no  such  animal  chanced  at  that  time  to  be  grazing  on 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  estate,  this  request  must  be  considered  rather 
as  a  polite  compliment  than  a  substantial  hospitality.  It  was 
the  finishing  ornament  of  the  conversation;  for  when  he  had 
delivered  it  Mr.  Pecksniff  rose,  and  led  the  way  to  that  hot- 
bed of  architectural  genius,  the  two-pair  front. 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said,  searching  among  the  papers,  "how 
you  can  best  employ  yourself,  Martin,  while  I  am  absent. 
Suppose  you  were  to  give  me  your  idea  of  a  monument  to  a 
lord  mayor  of  London;  or  a  tomb  for  a  sheriff;  or  your 
motion  of  a  eoAv-house  to  be  erected  in  a  nobleman's  park. 
Do  you  know,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  folding  his  hands, 
and  looking  at  his  young  relation  with  an  air  of  pensive 
interest,  "  that  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  your  notion  of 
a  cow-house  ? " 

But  Martin  by  no  means  appeared  to  relish  this  sugges- 
tion. 

"  A  pump,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is  very  chaste  practice. 
I  have  found  that  a  lamp-post  is  calculated  to  refine  the  mina 
and  give  it  a  classical  tendency.  An  ornamental  turnpike 
has  a  remarkable  effect  upon  the  imagination.  What  dc 
you  say  to  beginning  with  an  ornamental  turnpike  ?  " 

"  Whatever  Mr.  Pecksniff  pleased,"  said  Martin,  doubt- 
fully. 

"Stay,'*  said  that  gentleman.  "Come!  as  you're  ambi- 
tious, and  are  a  very  neat  draughtsman,  you  shall — ha,  ha! — 
you  shall  try  your  hand  on  these  proposals  for  a  grammar- 
school;  regulating  your  plan,  of  course,  by  the  printed  par- 
ticulars. Upon  my  word,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  merrily, 
"  I  shall  be  very  curious  to  see  what  you  make  of  the  gram- 
mar-school. Who  knows  but  a  young  man  of  your  taste 
might  hit  upon  something,  impracticable  and  unlikely  in 
itself,  but  which  I  could  put  into  shape  ?  For  it  really  is, 
my  dear  Martin,  it  really  is  in  the  finishing  touches  alone 
that  great  experience  and  long  study  in  these  matters  tell. 
Ha,  ha,  ha!  Now  it  really  will  be,"  continued  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, clapping  his  young  friend  on  the  back  in  his  droll 
humor,  "  an  amusement  to  me,  to  see  what  you  make  of  the 
grammar-school." 

Martin  readily  undertook  this  task,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
forthwith  proceeded  to  entrust  him  with  the  materials  neces- 
sary for  its  execution;  dwelling  meanwhile  on  the  magical 
effect  of  a  few  finishing  touches  from  the  hand  of  a  master; 


MARTIN  CKUZZLEWIT.  9) 

nrhichj  indeed,  as  some  people  said  (and  these  were  the  old 
enemies  again!)  was  unquestionably  very  surprising,  and 
almost  miraculous;  as  there  were  cases  on  record  in  which 
the  masterly  introduction  of  an  additional  back  window,  or 
a  kitchen  door,  or  half-a-dozen  steps,  or  even  a  water  spout, 
had  made  the  design  of  a  pupil  Mr.  Pecksniff's  own  work,  and 
had  brought  substantial  rewards  into  that  gentleman's  pocket. 
But  such  is  the  magic  of  genius,  which  changes  all  it  handles 
into  gold  ! 

"  When  your  mind  requires  to  be  refreshed,  by  change  of 
occupation,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Thomas  Pinch  will 
instruct  you  in  the  art  of  surveying  the  back  garden,  or  in 
ascertaining  the  dead  level  of  the  road  between  this  house 
and  the  finger-post,  or  in  any  other  practical  and  pleasing 
pursuit.  There  are  a  cart-load  of  loose  bricks,  and  a  score 
or  two  of  old  flower-pots,  in  the  back  yard.  If  you  could 
pile  them  up,  my  dear  Martin,  into  any  form  which  would 
jemind  me  on  my  return,  say  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  or  the 
mosque  of  St.  Sophia  at  Constantinople,  it  would  be  at  once 
improving  to  you  and  agreeable  to  my  feelings.  And  now," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  conclusion,  ''  to  drop,  for  the  present, 
our  professional  relations  and  advert  to  private  matters,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  talk  with  you  in  m.y  own  room,  while  I  pack 
up  my  portmanteau." 

Martin  attended  him;  and  they  remained  in  secret  confer- 
ence together  for  an  hour  or  more;  leaving  Tom  Pinch 
alone.  When  the  young  man  returned,  he  was  very  taciturn 
and  dull,  in  which  state  he  remained  all  day;  so  that  Tom, 
after  trying  him  once  or  twice  with  indifferent  conversation, 
felt  a  delicacy  in  obtruding  himself  upon  his  thoughts,  and 
said  no  more. 

He  would  not  have  had  leisure  to  say  much,  had  his  new 
friend  been  ever  so  loquacious;  for  first  of  all  Mr.  Pecksniff 
called  him  down  to  stand  upon  the  top  of  his  portmanteau 
and  represent  ancient  statues  there,  until  such  time  as  it 
would  consent  to  be  locked;  and  then  Miss  Charity  called 
him  to  come  and  cord  her  trunk;  and  then  Miss  Mercy  sent 
for  him  to  come  and  mend  her  box;  and  then  he  wrote  the 
fullest  possible  cards  for  all  the  luggage;  and  then  he  volun- 
teered to  carry  it  all  down  stairs;  and  after  that  to  see  it 
safely  carried  on  a  couple  of  barrows  to  the  old  finger-post 
at  the  end  of  the  lane;  and  then  to  mind  it  till  the  coach 
came  up.  In  short,  his  day's  work  would  have  been  a  pretty 
heavy  one   for  a  porter,  but   his   thoromgh   good-will  made 


98  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

nothing  of  it;  and  as  he  sat  upon  the  luggage  at  last,  waiting 
for  the  Pecksniffs,  escorted  by  the  new  pupil,  to  come  down 
the  lane,  his  heart  was  light  with  the  hope  of  having  pleased 
his  benefactor, 

"  I  was  almost  afraid,"  said  Tom,  taking  a  letter  from  his 
pocket,  and  wiping  his  face,  for  he  was  hot  with  bustling 
about,  though  it  was  a  cold  day,  ''  that  I  shouldn't  have  had 
time  to  write  it,  and  that  would  have  been  a  thousand  pities; 
postage  from  such  a  distance  being  a  serious  consideration, 
when  one's  not  rich.  She  will  be  glad  to  see  my  hand,  poor 
girl,  and  to  hear  that  Pecksniff  is  as  kind  as  ever.  I  would 
have  asked  John  Westlock  to  call  and  see  her,  and  tell  her  all 
about  me  by  word  of  mouth,  but  I  was  afraid  he  might  speak 
against  Pecksniff  to  her,  and  make  her  uneasy.  Besides, 
they  are  particular  people  where  she  is,  and  it  might  have 
rendered  her  situation  uncomfortable  if  she  had  had  a  visit 
from  a  young  man  like  John.     Poor  Ruth  !  " 

Tom  Pinch  seemed  a  little  disposed  to  be  melancholy  fg^r 
half  a  minute  or  so,  but  he  found  comfort  very  soon,  and 
pursued  his  ruminations  thus: 

"  I'm  a  nice  man,  I  don't  think,  as  John  used  to  say  (John 
was  a  kind,  merry-hearted  fellow;  I  wish  he  had  liked  Peck- 
sniff better),  to  be  feeling  low,  on  account  of  the  distance 
between  us,  when  I  ought  to  be  thinking,  instead,  of  my 
extraordinary  good-luck  in  having  ever  got  here.  I  must 
have  been  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  my  mouth,  I  am  sure, 
to  have  ever  come  across  Pecksniff.  And  here  have  I  fallen 
again  into  my  usual  good  luck  with  the  new  pupil  !  Such 
an  affable,  generous,  free  fellow,  as  he  is,  I  never  saw.  Why, 
we  were  companions  directly  !  and  he  a  relation  of  Peck- 
sniff's too,  and  a  clever,  dashing  youth  who  might  cut  his  way 
through  the  world  as  if  it  wxre  a  cheese  !  Here  he  comes 
while  the  words  are  on  my  lips,"  said  Tom;  ''  walking  down 
the  lane  as  if  the  lane  belonged  to  him." 

In  truth,  the  new  pupil,  not  at  all  disconcerted  by  the 
honor  of  having  Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff  on  his  arm,  or  by  the 
affectionate  adieux  of  that  young  lady,  approached  as  Mr. 
Pinch  spoke,  followed  by  Miss  Charity  and  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
As  the  coach  appeared  at  the  same  moment,  Tom  lost  no 
time  in  entreating  the  gentleman  last  mentioned,  to  under- 
take the  delivery  of  his  letter. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  superscription. 
"  For  your  sister,  Thomas.  Yes,  oh  yes,  it  shall  be  delivered, 
Mr.  Pinch.  Make  your  mind  easy  upon  that  score.  She 
shall  certainly  have  it,  Mr,  Pin' 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  99 

He  made  the  promise  with  so  much  condescension  and 
patronage,  that  Tom  felt  he  had  asked  a  great  deal  (this  had 
not  occurred  to  his  mind  before),  and  thanked  him  earnestly. 
The  Miss  Pecksniffs,  according  to  a  custom  they  had,  were 
amused  beyond  description,  at  the  mention  of  Mr.  Pinch's 
sister.  Oh  the  fright  !  The  bare  idea  of  a  Miss  Pinch  ! 
Good  heavens  ! 

Tom  was  greatly  pleased  to  see  them  so  merry,  for  he  took 
it  as  a  token  of  their  favor,  and  good-humored  regard. 
Therefore  he  laughed  too  and  rubbed  his  hands,  and  wished 
them  a  pleasant  journey  and  safe  return,  and  was  quite  brisk. 
Even  when  the  coach  had  rolled  away  with  the  olive- 
branches  in  the  boot  and  the  family  of  doves  inside,  he 
stood  waving  his  hand  and  bowing;  so  much  gratified  by 
the  unusually  courteous  demeanor  of  the  young  ladies,  that 
he  was  quite  regardless,  for  the  moment,  of  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit,  who  stood  leaning  thoughtfully  against  the  finger- 
post, and  who,  after  disposing  of  his  fair  charge,  had 
hardly  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 

The  perfect  silence  which  ensued  upon  the  bustle  and 
departure  of  the  coach,  together  with  the  sharp  air  of  the 
wintry  afternoon,  roused  them  both  at  the  same  time.  They 
turned,  as  by  mutual  consent,  and  moved  off,  arm-in-arm.    . 

''How  melancholy  you  are!"  said  Tom  "what  is  the 
matter? " 

"Nothing  worth  speaking  of,"  said  Martin.  "Very  little 
more  than  was  the  matter  yesterday,  and  much  more,  I 
hope,  than  will  be  the  matter  to-morrow.  I'm  out  of  spirits, 
Pinch." 

"  Well,"  cried  Tom,  "  now  do  you  know  I  am  in  capital 
spirits  to-day,  and  scarcely  ever  felt  more  disposed  to  be 
good  company.  It  was  a  very  kind  thing  in  your  predecessor, 
John,  to  write  to  me,  was  it  not?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Martin  carelessly;  *'  I  should  have 
thought  he  would  have  had  enough  to  do  to  enjoy  himself, 
without  thinking  of  you,  Pinch." 

"Just  what  I  felt  to  be  so  very  likely  ;"  Tom  rejoined; 
"  but  no,  he  keeps  his  word,  and  says,  '  My  dear  Pinch,  I 
often  think  of  you,'  and  all  sorts  of  kind  and  considerate 
things  of  that  description." 

"  He  must  be  a  devilish  good-natured  fellow,"  said  Mar- 
tin somewhat  peevishly;  "  because  he  can't  mean  that,  you 
know." 

**  I  don't  suppose  he  can,  eh? "   said  Tom,  looking  wist- 


ioo  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

fully  in  his  companion's  face.  "  He  says  so  to  please  me, 
you  think? " 

**  Why,  is  it  likely,"  rejoined  Martin,  with  greater  earnest- 
ness, "  that  a  young  man  newly  escaped  from  this  kennel  of 
a  place,  and  fresh  to  all  the  delights  of  being  his  own 
master  in  London,  can  have  much  leisure  or  inclination  to 
think  favorably  of  any  thing  or  any  body  he  has  left  behind 
him  here?      I  put  it  to  you.  Pinch,  is  it  natural?" 

After  a  short  reflection,  Mr.  Pinch  replied,  in  a  more 
subdued  tone,  that  to  be  sure  it  was  unreasonable  to  expect 
any  such  thing,  and  that  he  had  no  doubt  Martin  knew 
best. 

"  Of  course  I  know  best,"  Martin  observed. 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  mildly.  "  I  said  so." 
And  when  he  had  made  this  rejoinder,  they  fell  into  a  blank 
silence  again,  which  lasted  until  they  reached  home;  by 
which  time  it  was  dark. 

Now,  Miss  Charity  Pecksniff,  in  consideration  of  the 
inconvenience  of  carrying  them  with  her  in  the  coach, 
and  the  impossibility  of  preserving  them  by  artificial  means 
until  the  famaly's  return,  had  set  forth,  in  a  couple  of  plates, 
the  fragments  of  yesterday's  feast.  In  virtue  of  which  liberal 
arrangement,  they  had  the  happiness  to  find  awaiting  them 
In  the  parlor  two  chaotic  heaps  of  the  remains  of  last  night's 
pleasure,  consisting  of  certain  filmy  bits  of  oranges,  some 
mummied  sandwiches,  various  disrupted  masses  of  the 
geological  cake,  and  several  entire  captain's  biscuits.  That 
choice  liquor  in  which  to  steep  these  dainties  might  not  be 
wanting,  the  remains  of  the  two  bottles  of  currant  wine  had 
been  poured  together  and  corked  with  a  curl-paper;  so 
that  every  material  was  at  hand  for  making  quite  a  heavy 
night  of  it. 

Martin  Chuzzlewit  beheld  these  roystering  preparations 
with  infinite  contempt,  and  stirring  the  fire  into  a  blaze  (to 
the  great  destruction  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  coals),  sat  moodily 
down  before  it,  in  the  most  comfortable  chair  he  could  find. 
That  he  might  the  better  squeeze  himself  into  the  small 
corner  that  was  left  for  him,  Mr.  Pinch  took  up  his  position 
on  Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff's  stool,  and  setting  his  glass  down 
upon  the  hearth-rug  and  putting  his  plate  upon  his  knees, 
began  to  enjoy  himself. 

If  Diogenes  coming  to  life  again  could  have  rolled  himself, 
tub  and  all,  into  Mr.  Pecksniffs  parlor,  and  could  have  seen 
Tom  Pinch  as  he  sat  on  Mercy   Pecksniff's   stool,  with   his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLF.WIT.  loi 

plate  and  glass  before  him,  he  could  not  have  faced  it  out, 
though  in  his  surliest  mood,  but  must  have  smiled  good-tem- 
peredly.  The  perfect  and  entire  satisfaction  of  Tom;  his 
surpassing  appreciation  of  the  husky  sandwiches,  which  crum- 
bled in  his  mouth  like  saw-dust  ;  the  unspeakable  relish 
with  which  he  swallowed  the  thin,  wine  by  drops,  and 
smacked  his  lips,  as  though  it  were  so  rich  and  generous 
that  to  lose  an  atom  of  its  fruity  flavor  were  a  sin  ;  the  look 
with  which  he  paused  sometimes,  with  his  glass  in  his  hand, 
proposing  silent  toasts  to  himself  ;  and  the  anxious  shade 
that  came  upon  his  contented  face  when  after  wandering 
round  the  room,  exulting  in  its  uninvaded  snugness,  his 
glance  encountered  the  dull  brow  of  his  companion ;  no 
cynic  in  the  world,  though  in  his  hatred  of  its  men  a  very 
griffin,  could  have  withstood  these  things  in  Thomas  Pinch. 

Some  men  would  have  slapped  him  on  the  back,  and 
pledged  him  in  a  bumper  of  the  currant  wine,  though  it  had 
been  the  sharpest  vinegar — ay,  and  liked  its  flavor  too  ; 
some  would  have  seized  him  by  his  honest  hand,  and 
thanked  him  for  the  lesson  that  his  simple  nature  taught 
them.  Some  would  have  laughed  with,  and  others  would 
have  laughed  at  him  ;  of  which  last  class  was  Martin 
Chuzzlewit,  who,  unable  to  restrain  himself,  at  last  laughed 
loud  and  long. 

''  That's  right,"  said  Tom,  nodding  approvingly.  "  Cheer 
up  !     That's  capital  !  " 

At  which  encouragement,  young  Martin  laughed  again  ; 
and  said,  as  soon  as  he  had  breath  and  gravity  enough  : 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  as  you  are.  Pinch." 

"Didn't  you  though?"  said  Tom.  "Well,  it's  very 
likely  you  do  find  me  strange,  because  I  have  hardly  seen 
any  thing  of  the  world,  and  you  have  seen  a  good  deal  I  dare 
say?" 

"  Pretty  well  for  my  time  of  life,"  rejoined  Martin, 
drawing  his  chair  still  nearer  to  the  fire,  and  spreading  his 
feet  out  on  the  fender.  "Deuce  take  it,  I  must  talk  openly 
to  somebody.     I'll  talk  openly  to  you,  Pinch." 

"  Do  !  "  said  Tom.  "  I  shall  take  it  as  being  very 
friendly  of  you." 

"  I'm  not  in  your  way,  am  I  ?  "  inquired  Martin,  glancing 
down  at  Mr.  Pinch,  who  was  by  this  time  looking  at  the  fire 
over  his  leg. 

"  Not  at  all  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  You  must  know  then,  to  make  short  of  a  long  story,*'  said 


I02  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Martin,  beginning  with  a  kind  of  effort,  as  if  the  revelation 
were  not  agreeable  to  him  ;  "  that  I  have  been  bred  up 
from  childhood  with  great  expectations,  and  have  alway;; 
been  taught  to  believe  that  I  should  be,  one  day,  very  rich. 
So  I  should  have  been,  but  for  certain  brief  reasons  which  I 
am  going  to  tell  you,  and  which  have  led  to  my  being  disin- 
herited " 

**  By  your  father  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pinch,  with  open  eyes. 

**Bymy  grandfather.  I  have  had  no  parents  these  many 
years.     Scarcely  within  my  remembrance." 

*' Neither  have  I,"  said  Tom,  touching  the  young  man's 
hand  with  his  own  and  timidly  withdrawing  it  again.  "  Dear 
me!" 

"  Why  as  to  that  you  know,  Pinch,"  pursued  the  other, 
stirring  the  fire  again,  and  speaking  in  his  rapid,  off-hand 
way,  "  it's  all  very  right  and  proper  to  be  fond  of  parents 
when  we  have  them,  and  to  bear  them  in  remembrance  after 
they're  dead,  if  you  have  ever  known  any  thing  of  them. 
But  as  I  never  did  know  any  thing  about  mine  personally, 
you  know,  why  1  can't  be  expected  to  be  very  sentimental 
about  'em.     And  I  am  not  ;  that's  the  truth." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  just  then  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  bars. 
But  on  his  companion  pausing  in  this  place,  he  started,  and 
said  '*  Oh  !  of  course,"  and  composed  himself  to  listen 
again. 

"  In  a  word,"  said  Martin,  "  I  have  been  bred  and  reared 
all  my  life  by  this  grandfather  of  whom  I  have  just  spoken. 
Now,  he  has  a  great  many  good  points  ;  there  is  no  doubt 
about  that  ;  I'll  not  disguise  the  fact  from  you  ;  but  he  has 
two  very  great  faults,  which  are  the  staple  of  his  bad  side. 
In  the  first  place,  he  has  the  most  confirmed  obstinacy  of 
character  you  ever  met  with  in  any  human  creature.  In 
the  second,  he  is  most  abominably  selfish." 

"  Is  he  indeed  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  In  those  two  respects,"  returned  the  other,  "  there  never 
was  such  a  man.  I  have  often  heard  from  those  who  know, 
that  they  have  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the  failings  of  our 
family  ;  and  I  believe  there's  some  truth  in  it.  But  I  can't 
say  of  my  own  knowledge.  All  I  have  to  do,  you  know,  is 
to  be  very  thankful  that  they  haven't  descended  to  me,  and 
to  be  very  careful  that  I  don't  contract  'em." 

**  To  be  sure,  "  said  Mr.  Pinch.     "  Very  proper." 

**  Well,  sir,"  resumed  Martin,  stirring  the  fire  once  more, 
and  drawing  his  chair  still  closer  to  it, ''  his  selfishness  makes 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  103 

him  exacting,  you  see  ;  and  his  obstinacy  makes  him  resolute 
in  his  exactions.  The  consequence  is  that  he  has  always 
exacted  a  great  deal  from  me  in  the  way  of  respect,  and  sub- 
mission, and  self-denial  when  his  wishes  were  in  question,  and 
so  forth.  I  have  borne  a  great  deal  from  him,  because  I  have 
been  under  obligations  to  him  (if  one  can  ever  be  said  to  be 
under  obligations  to  one's  own  grandfather),  and  because  I 
have  been  really  attached  to  him  ;  but  we  have  had  a  great 
many  quarrels  for  all  that,  for  I  could  not  accommodate 
myself  to  his  ways  very  often — not  out  of  the  least  reference 

to  myself,  you  understand,  but  because "  he  stammered 

here,  and  was  rather  at  a  loss. 

Mr.  Pinch  being  about  the  worst  man  in  the  world  to  help 
any  body  out  of  a  difficulty  of  this  sort,  said  nothing. 

''  Well!  as  you  understand  me,"  resumed  Martin,  quickly, 
'*  I  needn't  hunt  for  the  precise  expression  I  want.  Now,  I 
come  to  the  cream  of  my  story,  and  the  occasion  of  my  being 
here.     I  am  in  love.  Pinch." 

Mr.  Pinch  looked  up  into  his  face  with  increased  interest. 

**  I  say  I  am  in  love.  I  am  in  love  with  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  girls  the  sun  ever  shone  upon.  But  she  is  wholly 
and  entirely  dependent  upon  the  pleasure  of  my  grandfather  ; 
and  if  he  were  to  know  that  she  favored  my  passion,  she 
would  lose  her  home  and  every  thing  she  possesses  in  the 
world.     There  is  nothing  very  selfish  in  that  love,  I  think  ?" 

"  Selfish!  "  cried  Tom.  "  You  have  acted  nobly.  To  love 
her  as  I  am  sure  you  do,  and  yet  in  consideration  for  her  state 
of  dependence,  not  even  to  disclose " 

''  VVhat  are  you  talking  about.  Pinch?  "  said  Martin,  pet- 
tishly ;  ''  don't  make  yourself  ridiculous,  my  good  fellow  ! 
What  do  you  mean  by  not  disclosing  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  answered  Tom.  "I  thought  you 
meant  that,  or  I  wouldn't  have  said  it." 

"  If  I  didn't  tell  her  I  loved  her,  where  would  be  the  use 
of  my  being  in  love  ?  "  said  Martin  ;  **  unless  to  keep  myself 
in  a  perpetual  state  of  worry  and  vexation  ? " 

"  That's  true,"  Tom  answered.  "Well,  I  can  guess  what 
she  said  when  you  told  her,"  he  added,  glancing  at  Martin's 
handsome  face. 

"Why,  not  exactly.  Pinch,"  he  rejoined  with  a  slight 
frown  ;  "  because  she  has  some  girlish  notions  about  duty 
and  gratitude,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  which  are  rather  hard  to 
fathom;  but  in  the  main  you  are  right.  Her  heart  was  mine, 
I  found." 


104  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

**  Just  what  I  supposed,"  said  Tom.  "Quite  natural  ! '' 
and,  in  his  great  satisfaction,  he  took  a  long  sip  out  of  his 
wineglass. 

"  Although  I  had  conducted  myself  from  the  first  with  the 
utmost  circumspection,"  pursued  Martin,  "  1  had  not  man- 
aged matters  so  well  but  that  my  grandfather,  who  is  full  of 
jealousy  and  distrust,  suspected  me  of  loving  her.  He  said 
nothing  to  her,  but  straightway  attacked  me  in  private,  and 
charged  me  with  designing  to  corrupt  the  fidelity  to  himself 
(there  you  observe  his  selfishness),  of  a  young  creature  whom 
he  had  trained  and  educated  to  be  his  only  disinterested  and 
faithful  companion  when  he  should  have  disposed  of  me  in 
marriage  to  his  heart's  content.  Upon  that,  I  took  fire  imme- 
diately, and  told  him  that  with  his  good  leave  I  would  dispose 
of  myself  in  marriage,  and  would  rather  not  be  knocked 
down  by  him  or  any  other  auctioneer  to  any  bidder  whom- 
soever." 

Mr.  Pinch  opened  his  eyes  wider  and  looked  at  the  fire 
harder  than  he  had  done  yet. 

"You  may  be  sure,"  said  Martin,  "that  this  nettled  him, 
and  that  he  began  to  be  the  very  reverse  of  complimentary  to 
myself.  Interview  succeeded  interview;  words  engendered 
words,  as  they  always  do;  and  the  upshot  of  it  was,  that  I 
was  to  renounce  her,  or  be  renounced  by  him.  Now  you 
must  bear  in  mind.  Pinch,  that  I  am  not  only  desperately 
fond  of  her  (for  though  she  is  poor,  her  beauty  and  intellect 
would  reflect  great  credit  on  any  body,  I  don't  care  of  what 
pretensions,  who  might  become  her  husband),  but  that  a 
chief  ingredient  in  my  composition  is  a  most  determined — " 

"  Obstinacy,"  suggested  Tom  in  perfect  good  faith.  But 
the  suggestion  was  not  so  well  received  as  he  had  expected, 
for  the  young  man  immediately  rejoined,  with  some  irritation: 

"  What  a  fellow  you  are,  Pinch  !  " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Tom,  "I  thought  you  wanted  a 
word." 

"  I  didn't  want  that  word,"  he  rejoined.  "  I  told  you 
obstinacy  was  no  part  of  my  character,  did  I  not  ?  I  was 
going  to  say,  if  you  had  given  m.e  leave,  that  a  chief  ingre- 
dient in  my  composition  is  a  most  determined  firmness." 

"Oh  !  "  cried  Tom,  screwing  up  his  mouth,  and  nodding. 
"  Yes,  yes;  I  see  !  " 

"  And  being  firm,"  pursued  Martin,  "of  course  I  was  not 
going  to  yield  to  him,  or  give  way  by  so  much  as  the  thou- 
sandth part  of  an  inch." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  105 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom. 

"  On  the  contrary;  the  more  he  urged,  the  more  I  was 
determined  to  oppose  him." 

*' To  be  sure!  "  said  Tom.  .• 

'' Very  well,"  rejoined  Martin,  throwing  himself  back  in 
his  chair,  with  a  careless  wave  of  both  hands,  as  if  the  sub- 
ject were  quite  settled,  and  nothing  more  could  be  said 
about  it.  ''  There  is  an  end  of  the  matter  and  here 
am  I!" 

Mr.  Pinch  sat  staring  at  the  fire  for  some  minutes  with  a 
puzzled  look,  such  as  he  might  have  assumed  if  some 
uncommonly  difficult  conundrum  had  been  proposed,  which 
he  found  it  impossible  to  guess.     At  length  he  said: 

"  Pecksniff,  of  course,  you  had  known  before? " 

*'  Only  by  name.  No,  I  had  never  seen  him,  for  my 
grandfather  kept  not  only  himself  but  me,  aloof  from 
all  his  relations.  But  our  separation  took  place  in  a  town  in 
the  adjoining  county.  From  that  place  I  came  to  Salis- 
bury, and  there  I  saw  Pecksniff's  advertisement,  which  I 
answered,  having  always  had  some  natural  taste,  I  believe, 
in  the  matters  to  which  it  referred,  and  thinking  it  might 
suit  me.  As  soon  as  I  found  it  to  be  his,  I  was  doubly  bent 
on  coming  to  him  if  possible,  on  account  of  his  being — " 

''  Such  an  excellent  man,"  interposed  Tom,  rubbing  his 
hands;  "  so  he  is.     You  were  quite  right." 

*'  Why  not  so  much  on  that  account,  if  the  truth  must  be 
spoken,"  returned  Martin,  *'  as  because  my  grandfather  has 
an  inveterate  dislike  to  him,  and  after  the  old  man's  arbitrary 
treatment  of  me,  I  had  a  natural  desire  to  run  as  directly 
counter  to  all  his  opinions  as  I  could.  Well!  As  I  said 
before,  here  I  am.  My  engagement  with  the  young  lady  I 
have  been  telling  you  about,  is  likely  to  be  a  tolerably  long 
one  ;  for  neither  her  prospects,  nor  mine,  are  very  bright  ; 
and  of  course  I  shall  not  think  of  marrying  until  I  am  well 
able  to  do  so.  It  would  never  do,  you  know,  for  me  to  be 
plunging  myself  into  poverty  and  shabbiness  and  love  in  one 
room  up  three  pair  of  stairs,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  her,"  remarked  Tom  Pinch,  in  a  low 
voice, 

"  Exactly  so,"  rejoined  Martin,  rising  to  warm  his  back, 
and  leaning  against  the  chimney-piece.  "  To  say  nothing  of 
her.  At  the  same  time,  of  course  it's  not  very  hard  upon  her 
to  be  obliged  to  yield  to  the  necessity  of  the  case  ;  first, 
because  she  loves  me  very  much  ;   and  secondly,  because  I 


io6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

have  sacrificed  a  great  deal  on  her  account,  and  might  have 
done  much  better,  you  know." 

It  was  a  very  long  time  before  Tom  said  "  Certainly,"  so 
long,  that  he  might  have  taken  a  nap  in  the  interval,  but  he 
did  say  so  at  last. 

''  Now,  there  is  one  odd  coincidence  connected  with  this 
love  story,"  said  Martin,  ''  which  brings  it  to  an  end.  You 
remember  what  you  told  me  last  night  as  we  were  coming  here 
about  your  pretty  visitor  in  the  church  ? " 

"  Surely  I  do,"  said  Tom,  rising  from  his  stool,  and  seating 
himself  in  the  chair  from  which  the  other  had  lately  risen, 
that  he  might  see  his  face.     "  Undoubtedly." 

"That  was  she." 

"I  knew  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Tom,  looking 
fixedly  at  him,  and  speaking  very  softly.  "  You  don't  tell  me 
so  ?  " 

"  That  was  she,"  repeated  the  young  man.  "  After  what 
I  have  heard  from  Pecksniff,  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  came 
and  went  with  my  grandfather.  Don't  you  drink  too  much  of 
that  sour  wine,  or  you'll  have  a  fit  of  some  sort,  Pinch,  I 
see." 

**  It  is  not  very  wholesome,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Tom,  setting 
down  the  empty  glass  he  had  for  sometime  held.  "  So  that 
was  she,  was  it  !  " 

Martin  nodded  assent  ;  and  adding,  with  a  restless 
impatience,  that  if  he  had  been  a  few  days  earlier  he  would 
have  seen  her  ;  and  that  now  she  might  be,  for  any  thing  he 
knew,  hundreds  of  miles  away  ;  threw  himself  after  a  few 
turns  across  the  room,  into  a  chair,  and  chafed  like  a  spoiled 
child. 

Tom  Pinch's  heart  was  very  tender,  and  he  could  not  bear 
to  see  the  most  indifferent  person  in  distress  ;  still  less  one 
who  had  awakened  an  interest  in  him,  and  who  regarded 
him  (either  in  fact,  or  as  he  supposed)  with  kindness,  and  in 
a  spirit  of  lenient  construction.  Whatever  his  own  thoughts 
had  been  a  few  moments  before — and  to  judge  from  his  face 
they  must  have  been  pretty  serious — he  dismissed  them 
instantly,  and  gave  his  young  friend  the  best  counsel  and 
comfort  that  occurred  to  him. 

"  All  will  be  .well  in  time,"  said  Tom,  "  I  have  no  doubt ; 
and  some  trial  and  adversity  just  now  will  only  serve  to  make 
you  more  attached  to  each  other  in  better  days.  I  have 
always  read  that  the  truth  is  so,  and  I  have  a  feeling  within 
me,  which  tells  me  how  natural  and  right  it  is  that  it  should 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  107 

be.  What  never  ran  smooth  yet,"  said  Tom  with  a  smile, 
which  despite  the  homeliness  of  his  face,  was  pleasanter  to  see 
than  many  a  proud  beauty's  brightest  glance  ;  "  what 
never  ran  smooth  yet,  can  hardly  be  expected  to  change  its 
character  for  us  ;  so  we  must  take  it  as  we  find  it,  and  fashion 
it  into  the  very  best  shape  we  can,  by  patience  and  good- 
humor.  I  have  no  power  at  all  ;  I  needn't  tell  you  that  ; 
but  I  have  an  excellent  will  ;  and  if  I  could  ever  be  of  use 
to  you,  in  any  way  whatever,  how  very  glad  I  should  be  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Martin,  shaking  his  hand.  *'  You're 
a  good  fellow,  upon  my  word,  and  speak  very  kindly.  Of 
course  you  know,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  as  he 
drew  his  chair  toward  the  fire  again,  "  I  should  not  hesitate 
to  avail  myself  of  your  services  if  you  could  help  me  at  all  ; 
but  mercy  on  us  !  "  Here  he  rumpled  his  hair  impatiently 
with  his  hand,  and  looked  at  Tom  as  if  he  took  it  rather  ill 
that  he  was  not  somebody  else  ;  "  you  might  as  well  be  a 
toasting-fork  or  a  frying-pan,  Pinch,  for  any  help  you  can 
render  me," 

"  Except  in  the  inclination,"  said  Tom,  gently. 

*'  Oh  !  to  be  sure.  I  meant  that,  of  course.  If  inclina- 
tion went  for  any  thing,  I  shouldn't  want  help.  I  tell  you 
what  you  may  do,  though,  if  you  will,  and  at  the  present 
moment  too." 

"  What  is  that  ? "  demanded  Tom. 

*'  Read  to  me." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  cried  Tom,  catching  up  the  candle, 
with  enthusiasm.  "'  Excuse  my  leaving  you  in  the  dark  a 
moment,  and  I'll  fetch  a  book  directly.  What  will  you  like  .? 
Shakespeare  ? " 

"  Ay  !  "  replied  his  friend,  yawning  and  stretching  him- 
self. *'  He'll  do.  I  am  tired  with  the  bustle  of  to-day,  and 
the  novelty  of  every  thing  about  me  ;  and  in  such  a  case, 
there's  no  greater  luxury  in  the  world,  I  think,  than  being 
read  to  sleep.     You  won't  mind  my  going  to  sleep,  if  I  can  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Then  begin  as  soon  as  you  like.  You  needn't  leave  off 
when  you  see  me  getting  drowsy  (unless  you  feel  tired),  for 
it's  pleasant  to  wake  gradually  to  the  sounds  again.  Did 
you  ever  try  that  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  tried  that,"  said  Tom. 

**  Well  !  You  can,  you  know,  one  of  these  days  when  we're 
both  in  the  right  humor.  Don't  mind  leaving  me  in  the 
dark.     Look  sharp  !  '* 


io8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 

Mr.  Pinch  lost  no  time  in  moving  away  ;  and  in  a  minute 
or  two  returned  with  one  of  the  precious  volumes  from  the 
shelf  beside  his  bed.  Martin  had  in  the  meantime  made 
himself  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  would  permit,  by 
constructing  before  the  fire  a  temporary  sofa  of  three  chairs 
with  Mercy's  stool  for  a  pillow,  and  lying  down  at  full- 
length  upon  it. 

"  Don't  be  too  loud,  please,"  he  said  to  Pinch. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom.  * 

"  You're  sure  you're  not  cold  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all  !  "  cried  Tom. 

**  I  am  quite  ready,  then." 

Mr.  Pinch  accordingly,  after  turning  over  the  leaves  of 
his  book  with  as  much  care  as  if  they  were  living  and  highly 
cherished  creatures,  made  his  own  selection,  and  began  to 
read.  Before  he  had  completed  fifty  lines,  his  friend  was 
snoring. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Tom,  softly,  as  he  stretched  out  his 
head  to  peep  at  him  over  the  backs  of  the  chairs.  *'  He  is 
very  young  to  have  so  much  trouble.  How  trustful  and  gen- 
erous in  him  to  bestow  all  this  confidence  in  me.  And  that 
was  she,  was  it  ? '' 

But  suddenly  remembering  their  compact,  he  took  up  the 
poem  at  the  place  where  he  had  left  off,  and  went  on  read- 
ing ;  always  forgetting  to  snuff  the  candle,  until  its  wick 
looked  like  a  mushroom.  He  gradually  became  so  much 
interested,  that  he  quite  forgot  to  replenish  the  fire  ;  and 
was  only  reminded  of  his  neglect  by  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
starting  up  after  the  lapse  of  an  hour  or  so,  crying  with  a 
shiver  : 

"  Why,  it's  nearly  out,  I  declare  !  No  wonder  I  dreamed 
of  being  frozen.  Do  call  for  some  coals.  What  a  fellow 
you  are,  Pinch  !  " 

CHAPTER  VH. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  CHEVY  SLYME  ASSERTS  THE  INDEPENDENCE  OF 
HIS  SPIRIT,    AND    THE    BLUE  DRAGON  LOS^S  A  LIMB. 

Martin  began  to  work  at  the  grammar-school  next  morn- 
ing, with  so  much  vigor  and  expedition,  that  Mr.  Pinch  had 
new  reason  to  do  homage  to  the  natural  endowments  of  that 
young  gcrtleman,  and  to  acknowledge  his  infinite  superiority 
to  himself.     The  new  pupil   received  Tom's  compliments 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  109 

very  graciouly  ;  and  having  by  this  time  conceived  a  real 
regard  for  him,  in  his  own  pecuHar  way,  predicted  that  they 
would  always  be  the  very  best  of  friends,  and  that  neither 
of  them,  he  was  certain  (but  particularly  Tom),  would  ever 
have  reason  to  regret  the  day  on  which  they  became 
acquainted.  Mr.  Pinch  was  delighted  to  hear  him  say  this, 
and  felt  so  much  flattered  by  his  kind  assurances  of  friend- 
ship and  protection,  that  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  express 
the  pleasure  they  afforded  him.  And  indeed  it  may  be 
observed  of  this  friendship,  such  as  it  was,  that  it  had  within 
it  more  likely  materials  of  endurance  than  many  a  sworn 
brotherhood  that  has  been  rich  in  promise  ;  for  so  long  as 
the  one  party  found  a  pleasure  in  patronizing,  and  the  other 
in  being  patronized  (which  was  in  the  very  essence  of  their 
respective  characters),  it  was  of  all  possible  events  among 
the  least  probable,  that  the  twin  demons,  envy  and  pride, 
would  ever  arise  between  them.  So  in  very  many  cases  of 
friendship,  or  what  passes  for  it,  the  old  axiom  is  reversed, 
and  like  clings  to  unlike  more  than  to  like. 

They  were  both  very  busy  on  the  afternoon  succeeding 
the  family's  departure  ;  Martin  with  the  grammar-school  ; 
and  Tom  in  balancing  certain  receipts  of  rents,  and  deduct- 
ing Mr.  Pecksniff's  commission  from  the  same  ;  in  which 
abstruse  employment  he  was  much  distracted  by  a  habit  his 
new  friend  had  of  whistling  aloud,  while  he  was  drawing. 
They  were  not  a  little  startled  by  the  unexpected  obtrusion 
into  that  sanctuary  of  genius,  of  a  human  head,  which 
although  a  shaggy  and  somewhat  alarming  head,  in  appear- 
ance, smiled  affably  upon  them  from  the  doorway,  in  a  man- 
ner that  was  at  once  waggish,  conciliatory,  and  expressive  of 
approbation. 

*'  I  am  not  industrious  myself,  gents  both,"  said  the  head, 
**  but  I  know  how  to  appreciate  that  quality  in  others.  I 
wish  I  may  turn  gray  and  ugly,  if  it  isn't  in  my  opinion,  next 
to  genius,  one  of  the  very  charmingest  qualities  of  the  human 
mind.  Upon  my  soul,  I  am  grateful  to  my  friend  Pecksniff 
for  helping  me  to  the  contemplation  of  such  a  delicious  pic- 
ture as  you  present.  You  remind  me  of  Whittington  after- 
ward thrice  lord  mayor  of  London.  I  give  you  my  unsul- 
lied word  of  honor,  that  you  very  strongly  remind  me  of 
that  historical  character.  You  are  a  pair  of  Whittingtons, 
gents,  without  the  cat  ;  which  is  a  most  agreeable  and 
blessed  exception  to  me,  for  I  am  not  attached  to  the  feline 
species.     My  name  is  Tigg  ;  how  do  you  do  ?  "     


no  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Martin  looked  to  Mr.  Pinch  for  an  explanation;  and  Tom, 
who  had  never  in  his  life  set  eyes  on  Mr.  Tigg  before, 
looked  to  that  gentleman  himself. 

''Chevy  Slyme?"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  interrogatively,  and  kissing 
his  left  hand  in  token  of  friendship.  "  You  will  understand 
me  when  I  say  that  I  am  the  accredited  agent  of  Chevy 
Slyme  ;  that  I  am  the  ambassador  from  the  court  of  Chiv  ? 
Ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Heyday  !  "  asked  Martin,  starting  at  the  mention  of  a 
name  he  knew.     "  Pray,  what  does  he  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  If  your  name  is  Pinch,"  Mr.  Tigg  began. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Martin,  checking  himself.  "  That  is  Mr. 
Pinch." 

"  If  that  is  Mr.  Pinch,"  cried  Tigg,  kissing  his  hand  again, 
and  beginning  to  follow  his  head  into  the  room,  '*  he  will 
permit  me  to  say  that  I  greatly  esteem,  and  respect  his  char- 
acter, which  has  been  most  highly  commended  to  me  by  my 
friend  Pecksniff ;  and  that  I  deeply  appreciate  his  talent  for 
the  organ,  notwithstanding  that  I  do  not,  if  I  may  use  the 
expression,  grind  myself.  If  that  is  Mr.  Pinch,  I  will  venture 
to  express  a  hope  that  I  see  him  well,  and  that  he  is  suffering 
no  inconvenience  from  the  easterly  wind  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom,  *'  I  am  very  well." 

"  I'hat  is  a  comfort,"  Mr.  Tigg  rejoined.  Then,"  he 
added,  shielding  his  lips  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and 
applying  them  close  to  Mr.  Pinch's  ear,  '*  I  have  come  for  the 
letter." 

"  The  letter,"  said  Tom,  aloud.  **  What  letter  ?  " 

"  The  letter,"  whispered  Tigg,  in  the  same  cautious  man- 
ner as  before,  "  which  my  friend  Pecksniff  addressed  to 
Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,  and  left  with  you." 

*'  He  didn't  leave  any  letter  with  me,"  said  Tom. 

''  Hush  !  "  cried  the  other.  "  It's  all  the  same  thing, 
though  not  so  delicately  done  by  my  friend  Pecksniff  as  I 
could  have  wished.     The  money." 

"  The  money  !  "  cried  Tom,  quite  scared. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.  With  which  he  rapped 
Tom  twice  or  thrice  upon  the  breast  and  nodded  several 
times,  as  though  he  would  say,  that  he  saw  they  understood 
each  other  ;  that  it  was  unnecessary  to  mention  the  circum- 
stance  before  a  third  person  ;  and  that  he  would  take  it  as  a 
particular  favor  if  Tom  would  slip  the  amount  into  his  hand, 
as  quietly  as  possible. 

Mr.  Pinch,  however,  was  so  very  much  astounded  by  this 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  iii 

(to  him)  inexplicable  deportment,  that  he  at  once  openly 
declared  there  must  be  some  mistake,  and  that  he  had  been 
entrusted  with  no  commission  whatever  having  any  reference 
to  Mr.  Tigg  or  to  his  friend  either.  Mr.  Tigg  received  this 
declaration  with  a  grave  request  that  Mr.  Pinch  would  have 
the  goodness  to  make  it  again  ;  and  on  Tom's  repeating  it  in 
a  still  more  emphatic  and  unmistakable  manner,  checked  it 
off,  sentence  for  sentence,  by  nodding  his  head  solemnly  at  the 
end  of  each.  When  it  had  come  to  a  close  for  the  second 
time,  Mr.  Tigg  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  and  addressed  the 
young  men  as  follows  : 

"  Then  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  gents  both.  There  is  at  this 
present  moment  in  this  very  place,  a  perfect  constellation  of 
talent  and  genius,  who  is  involved,  through  what  I  can  not  but 
designate  as  the  culpable  negligence  of  my  friend  Pecksniff, 
in  a  situation  as  tremendous,  perhaps,  as  the  social  inter- 
course of  the  nineteenth  century  will  readily  admit  of.  There 
is  actually  at  this  instant,  at  the  Blue  Dragon  in  this  village, 
an  ale  house  observe;  a  common,  paltry,  low-minded  clodhop- 
ping,  pipe-smoking  ale  house;  an  individual  of  whom  it  may  be 
said,  in  the  language  of  the  poet,  that  nobody  but  himself  can 
in  any  way  come  up  to  him;  who  is  detained  there  for  his  bill. 
Ha  !  ha  !  For  his  bill.  I  repeat  it.  For  his  bill.  Now,"  said 
Mr.  Tigg,  "  we  have  heard  of  Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs,  I 
believe,  and  we  have  heard  of  the  Court  of  Requests,  and  the 
Star  Chamber;  but  I  fear  the  contradiction  of  no  man  alive  or 
dead,  when  I  assert  that  my  friend  Chevy  Slyme  being  held 
in  pawn  for  a  bill,  beats  any  amount  of  cock-fighting  with 
which  I  am  acquainted." 

Martin  and  Mr.  Pinch  looked,  first  at  each  other,  and 
afterward  at  ]\Ir.  Tigg,  who  with  his  arms  folded  on  his 
breast  surveyed  them,  half  in  despondency  and  half  in  bitter- 
ness. 

"Don't  mistake  me,  gents  both,"  he  said,  stretching  forth 
his  right  hand.  ''If  it  had  been  for  any  thing  but  a  bill,  I 
could  have  borne  it,  and  could  still  have  looked  upon  man- 
kind v/ith  some  feeling  of  respect  ;  but  when  such  a  man 
as  my  friend  Slyme  is  detained  for  a  score — a  thing  in  itself 
essentially  mean  ;  a  low  performance  on  a  slate,  or  possibly 
chalked  upon  the  back  of  a  door — I  do  feel  that  there  is 
a  screv\^  of  such  magnitude  loose  somewhere,  that  the 
whole  framework  of  society  is  shaken,  and  the  very  first 
principles  of  things  can  no  longer  be  trusted.  In  short, 
gents  both,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  with  a  passionate  flourish  of  his 


112  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

hands  and  head,  "  when  a  man  like  Slyme  is  detained  for 
such  a  thing  as  a  bill,  I  reject  the  superstitions  of  ages, 
and  believe  nothing.  I  don't  even  believe  that  I  dont 
believe,  curse  me  if  I  do  !" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  I  am  sure,"  said  Tom  after  a  pause,  "but 
Mr.  Peckniff  said  nothing  to  me  about  it,  and  I  couldn't  act 
without  his  instructions.  Wouldn't  it  be  better,  sir,  if  you  were 
to  go  to — to  wherever  you  came  from — yourself,  and  remit 
the  money  to  your  friend  ?  " 

"  How  can  that  be  done  when  I  am  detained  also  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Tigg  ;  '*  and  when,  moreover,  owing  to  the  astounding,  I 
must  add,  guilty  negligence  of  my  friend  Pecksniff,  I 
have  no  money  for  coach  hire  ?  " 

Tom  thought  of  reminding  the  gentleman  (who,  no  doubt 
in  his  agitation  had  forgotten  it)  that  there  was  a  post-ofhce 
in  the  land  ;  and  that  possibly  if  he  wrote  to  some  friend  or 
agent  for  a  remittance  it  might  not  be  lost  upon  the  road  ;  or 
at  all  events  that  the  chance,  however  desperate,  was  worth 
trusting  to.  But,  as  his  good  nature  presently  suggested  to 
him  certain  reasons  for  abstaining  from  this  hint,  he  paused 
again,  and  then  asked  : 

*^  Did  you  say,  sir,  that  you  were  detained  also  ?  " 

**Come  here,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  rising.  ^'  You  have  no  objec- 
tion to  my  opening  this  window  for  a  moment  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Tom. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  lifting  the  sash.  "You  see  a 
fellow  down  there  with  a  red  neckcloth  and  no  waistcoat  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  cried  Tom.     ''  That's  Mark  Tapley." 

"  Mark  Tapley  is  it  ?  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  Then  Mark 
Tapley  had  not  only  the  great  politeness  to  follow  me  to  this 
house,  but  is  waiting  now  to  see  me  home  again.  And  for 
that  attention,  sir,"  added  Mr.  Tigg,  stroking  his  mustache, 
"  I  can  tell  you,  that  Mark  Tapley  had  better  in  his  infancy 
have  been  fed  to  suffocation  by  Mrs.  Tapley,  than  preserved 
to  this  time." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  not  so  dismayed  by  this  terrible  threat,  but 
that  he  had  voice  enough  to  call  to  Mark  to  come  in,  and  up- 
stairs ;  a  summons  which  he  so  speedily  obeyed,  that  almost 
as  soon  as  Tom  and  Mr.  Tigg  had  drawn  in  their  heads  and 
closed  the  window  again,  he,  the  denounced,  appeared  before 
them. 

"  Come  here,  Mark  !  "  said  Mr.  Pinch.  "  Good  gracious 
me  !  what's  the  matter  betweeni  Mrs.  Lupin  and  this  gentle- 
man ? "  ' .  .     . 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  113 

**  What  gentleman,  sir  ? "  said  Mark.  "  I  don't  see  no 
gentleman  here,  sir,  excepting  you  and  the  new  gentleman," 
to  whom  he  made  a  rough  kind  of  bow  ;  "  and  there's  nothing 
wrong  between  Mrs.  Lupin  and  either  of  you,  Mr.  Pinch,  I 
am  sure," 

"  Nonsense,  Mark  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  You  see  Mr. — " 

*' Tigg,"  interposed  that  gentleman.  "What  a  bait.  I  shall 
crush  him  soon.     All  in  good  time  !  " 

''  Oh  him  !  "  rejoined  Mark,  with  an  air  of  careless  defi- 
ance. ''  Yes,  I  see  /lim.  I  could  see  him  a  little  better,  if 
he'd  shave  himself,  and  get  his  hair  cut." 

Mr.  Tigg  shook  his  head  with  a  ferocious  look,  and  smote 
himself  once  upon  the  breast. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  Mark.  **  If  you  knock  ever  so  much 
in  that  quarter,  you'll  get  no  answer.  I  know  better.  There's 
nothing  there  but  padding  ;  and  a  greasy  sort  it  is." 

"  Nay,  Mark,"  urged  Mr.  Pinch,  interposing  to  prevent 
hostilities,  "  tell  me  what  I  ask  you.  You're  not  out  of  tem- 
per, I  hope  ?  " 

''  Out  of  temper,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark,  with  a  grin  ;  "  why  no, 
sir.  There's  a  little  credit — not  much — in  being  jolly,  when 
such  fellows  as  him  is  a  going  about  like  roaring  lions  ;  if 
there  ts  any  breed  of  lions,  at  least,  as  is  all  roar  and  mane. 
What  is  there  between  him  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  sir  ?  Why,  there's 
a  score  between  him  and  Mrs.  Lupin.  And  I  think  Mrs. 
Lupin  lets  him  and  his  friend  off  very  easy  in  not  charging 
*em  double  prices  for  being  a  disgrace  to  the  Dragon.  That's 
my  opinion.  I  wouldn't  have  any  such  Peter  the  Wild  Boy 
as  him  in  my  house,  sir,  not  if  I  was  paid  race-week  prices 
for  it.  He's  enough  to  turn  the  very  beer  in  the  casks  sour, 
with  his  looks  ;  he  is  !  So  he  would,  if  it  had  judgment 
enough." 

"  You're  not  answering  my  question,  you  know,  Mark," 
observed  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mark,  *'  I  don't  know  as  there's  much  to 
answer  further  than  that.  Him  and  his  friend  goes  and  stops 
at  the  Moon  and  Stars  till  they've  run  a  bill  there  ;  and  then 
comes  and  stops  wi^^h  us  and  does  the  same.  The  running  of 
bills  is  common  enough,  Mr.  Pinch  ;  it  an't  that  as  we  object 
to  ;  it's  the  way  of  this  chap.  Nothing's  good  enough  for 
him  ;  all  the  women  is  dying  for  him  he  thinks,  and  is  over- 
paid if  he  winks  at  'em  ;  and  all  the  men  was  made  to  be 
ordered  about  by  him.  This  not  being  aggravation  enough,  he 
says  this  morning  to  me,  in  his  usual  captivating  way,  '  We're 


114  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

going  to-night,  my  man.'  '  Are  you,  sir  ?  says  I.  *  Perhaps 
you'd  like  the  bill  got  ready,  sir  ?  "  'Oh  no,  my  man,'  he  says; 
'you  needn't  mind  that.  I'll  give  Pecksniff  orders  to  see  to 
that.'  In  reply  to  which,  the  Dragon  makes  answer,  'Thankee, 
sir,  you're  very  kind  to  honor  us  so  far,  but  as  we  don't  know 
any  particular  good  of  you,  and  you  don't  travel  with  lug- 
gage, and  Mr.  Pecksniff  an't  at  home  (which  perhaps  you 
mayn't  happen  to  be  aware  of,  sir),  we  should  prefer  some- 
thing more  satisfactory  ; '  and  that's  where  the  matter  stands. 
And  I  ask,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  pointing  in  conclusion,  to  Mr. 
Tigg,  with  his  hat,  "  any  lady  or  gentleman,  possessing  ordi- 
nary strength  of  mind,  to  say,  whether  he's  a  disagreeable- 
looking  chap  or  not  !  " 

"  Let  me  inquire,"  said  Martin,  interposing  between  this 
candid  speech  and  the  delivery  of  some  blighting  anathema 
by  Mr.  Tigg,  *'  what  the  amount  of  this  debt  may  be  ?  " 

''  In  point  of  money,  sir,  very  little,"  answered  Mark. 
"  Only  just  turned  of  three  pounds.  But  it  an't  that  ;  it's 
the—" 

''Yes,  yes,  you  told  us  so  before,"  said  Martin.  "  Pinch,  a 
word  with  you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Tom,  retiring  with  him  to  a  corner 
of  the  room. 

"  Why,  simply — I  am  ashamed  to  say — that  this  Mr. 
Slyme  is  a  relation  of  mine,  of  whom  I  never  heard  any  thing 
pleasant;  and  that  I  don't  want  him  here  just  now,  and  think 
he  would  be  cheaply  got  rid  of,  perhaps,  for  three  or  four 
pounds.  You  haven't  enough  money  to  pay  this  bill,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

Tom  shook  his  head  to  an  extent  that  left  no  doubt  of  his 
entire  sincerity. 

"  That's  unfortunate,  for  I  am  poor  too  ;  and  in  case  you 
had  had  it,  I'd  have  borrowed  it  of  you.  But  if  we  told  this 
landlady  we  would  see  her  paid,  I  suppose  that  would  answer 
the  same  purpose  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes  !  "  said  Tom.  "  She  knows  me,  bless  you:" 

"  Then,  let  us  go  down  at  once  and  tell  her  so  ;  for  the 
sooner  we  are  rid  of  their  company  the  better.  As  you  have 
conducted  the  conversation  with  this  gentleman  hitherto, 
perhaps  you'll  tell  him  what  we  purpose  doing  ;  will  you  ? " 

Mr.  Pinch  complying,  at  once  miparted  the  intelligence 
to  Mr.  Tigg,  who  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  in  return, 
assuring  him  that  his  faith  in  any  thing  and  every  thing  was 
again  restored.     It  was  not  so  much,  he  said,  for  the  tem- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  115 

porary  relief  of  this  assistance  that  he  prized  it,  as  for  its  vin- 
dication of  the  high  principle  that  nature's  nobs  felt  with 
nature's  nobs,  and  that  true  greatness  of  soul  sympathized 
with  true  greatness  of  soul,  all  the  world  over.  It  proved  to 
him,  he  said,  that  like  him  they  admired  genius,  even  when  it 
was  coupled  with  the  alloy  occasionally  visible  in  the  metal 
of  his  friend  Slyme  ;  and  on  behalf  of  that  friend,  he  thanked 
them  ;  as  warmly  and  heartily  as  if  the  cause  were  his  own. 
Being  cut  short  in  these  speeches  by  a  general  move  toward 
the  stairs,  he  took  possession  at  the  street-door  of  the  lapel 
of  Mr.  Pinch's  coat,  as  a  security  against  further  interruption, 
and  entertained  that  gentleman  with  some  highly  improving 
discourse  until  they  reached  the  Dragon,  whither  they  were 
closely  followed  by  Mark  and  the  new  pupil. 

The  rosy  hostess  scarcely  needed  Mr.  Pinch's  word  as  a 
preliminary  to  the  release  of  her  two  visitors,  of  whom  she 
was  glad  to  be  rid  on  any  terms;  indeed,  their  brief  detention 
had  originated  mainly  with  Mr,  Tapley,  who  entertained  a 
constitutional  dislike  to  gentlemen  out-at-elbows  who 
flourished  on  false  pretenses  ;  and  had  conceived  a  particu- 
lar aversion  to  Mr.  Tigg  and  his  friend,  as  choice  specimens 
of  the  species.  The  business  in  hand  thus  easily  settled,  Mr. 
Pinch  and  Martin  would  have  withdrawn  immediately,  but 
for  the  urgent  entreaties  of  Mr.  Tigg  that  they  would  allow 
him  the  honor  of  presenting  them  to  his  friend  Slyme,  w^hich 
were  so  very  difficult  of  resistance  that,  yielding  partly  to 
these  persuasions  and  partly  to  their  own  curiosity,  they  suf- 
fered themselves  to  be  ushered  into  the  presence  of  that  dis- 
tinguished gentleman. 

He  was  brooding  over  the  remains  of  yesterday's  decanter 
of  brandy,  and  was  engaged  in  the  thoughtful  occupation  of 
making  a  chain  of  rings  on  the  top  of  the  table  with  the  wet 
foot  of  his  drinking-glass.  Wretched  and  forlorn  as  he 
looked,  Mr.  Slyme  had  once  been,  in  his  way,  the  choicest  of 
swaggerers  ;  putting  forth  his  pretensions,  boldly,  as  a  man 
of  infinite  taste  and  most  undoubted  promise.  The  stock-in- 
trade  requisite  to  set  up  an  amateur  in  this  department  of 
business  is  very  slight,  and  easily  got  together  ;  a  trick  of  the 
nose  and  a  curl  of  the  lip  sufficient  to  compound  a  tolerable 
sneer,  being  ample  provision  for  any  exigency.  But,  in  an 
evil  hour,  this  off-shoot  of  the  Chuzzlewit  trunk,  being  lazy, 
and  ill  qualified  for  any  regular  pursuit,  and  having  dissi- 
pated such  means  as  he  ever  possessed,  had  formally  estab- 
lished himself  as  a  professor  of  taste  for  a  livelihood  ;  and 


ii6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

finding,  too  late,  that  something  more  than  his  old  amount 
of  qualifications  was  necessary  to  sustain  him  in  this  calling, 
had  quickly  fallen  to  his  present  level,  where  he  retained 
nothing  of  his  old  self  but  his  boastfulness  and  his  bile,  and 
seemed  to  have  no  existence  separate  or  apart  from  his 
friend  Tigg.  And  now  so  abject  and  so  pitiful  was  he — at 
once  so  maudlin,  insolent,  beggarly,  and  proud — that  even 
his  friend  and  parasite,  standing  erect  beside  him,  swelled 
into  a  man  by  contrast. 

"  Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  clapping  him  on  the  back,  "  my 
friend  Pecksniff  not  being  at  home,  I  have  arranged  our 
trifling  piece  of  business  with  Mr.  Pinch  and  friend.  Mr. 
Pinch  and  friend,  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  !  Chiv,  Mr.  Pinch  and 
friend  !  " 

"  These  are  agreeable  circumstances  in  which  to  be  intro- 
duced to  strangers,"  said  Chevy  Slyme,  turning  his  blood- 
shot eyes  toward  Tom  Pinch.  "  I  am  the  most  miserable 
man  in  the  world,  I  believe  !  " 

Tom  begged  he  wouldn't  mention  it;  and  finding  him  in 
this  condition,  retired,  after  an  awkward  pause,  followed  by 
Martin.  But  Mr.  Tigg  so  urgently  conjured  them,  by 
coughs  and  signs,  to  remain  in  the  shadow  of  the  door,  that 
they  stopped  there, 

"  I  swear,"  cried  Mr,  Slyme,  giving  the  table  an  imbecile 
blow  with  his  fist,  and  then  feebly  leaning  his  head  upon  his 
hand,  while  some  drunken  drops  oozed  from  his  eyes,  "  that 
I  am  the  wretchedest  creature  on  record.  Society  is  in  a 
conspiracy  against  me.  I'm  the  most  literary  man  alive. 
I'm  full  of  scholarship;  I'm  full  of  genius;  I'm  full  of  infor- 
mation; I'm  full  of  novel  views  on  every  subject;  look  at  my 
condition  !  I'm  at  this  moment  obliged  to  two  strangers  for 
a  tavern  bill  !  " 

Mr.  Tigg  replenished  his  friend's  glass,  pressed  it  into  his 
hand,  and  nodded  an  intimation  to  the  visitors  that 
they  would  see  him  in  abetter  aspect  immediately. 

"  Obliged  to  two  strangers  for  a  tavern  bill,  eh  !  "  repeated 
Mr.  Slyme,  after  a  sulky  application  to  his  glass.  "  Very 
pretty !  And  crowds  of  impostors,  the  while,  becoming 
famous;  men  who  are  no  more  on  a  level  with  me  than — 
Tigg,  1  take  you  to  witness  that  I  am  the  most  persecuted 
hound  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

With  a  whine,  not  unlike  the  cry  of  the  animal  he  named, 
in  its  lowest  stage  of  humiliation,  he  raised  his  glass  to  his 
mouth   again.     He   found  some  encouragement  in    it  ;  for 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  117 

when  he  set  it  down,  he  laughed  scornfully.  Upon  that  Mr. 
Tigg  gesticulated  to  the  visitors  once  more,  and  with  great 
expression  ;  implying  that  now  the  time  was  come  when  they 
would  see  Chiv  in  his  greatness. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Slyme.  "  Obliged  to  two 
strangers  for  a  tavern  bill  !  Yet  I  think  I've  a  rich  uncle, 
Tigg,  who  could  buy  up  the  uncles  of  fifty  strangers  ?  Have 
I,  or  have  I  not  ?  I  come  of  a  good  family,  I  believe  ?  Do 
I,  or  do  I  not  ?  I  am  not  a  man  of  common  capacity  or 
accomplishments,  I  think.     Am  I,  or  am  I  not  ?" 

"  You  are  the  American  aloe  of  the  human  race,  my  dear 
Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "which  only  blooms  once  in  a  hun- 
dred years  !  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Slyme  again.  "  Obliged  to 
two  strangers  for  a  tavern  bill  !  I  !  Obliged  to  two  archi- 
tect's apprentices.  Fellows  who  measure  earth  with  iron 
chains,  and  build  houses  like  bricklayers.  Give  me  the 
names  of  those  two  apprentices.  How  dare  they  oblige 
me  !  " 

Mr.  Tigg  was  quite  lost  in  admiration  of  this  noble  trait 
in  his  friend's  character  ;  as  he  made  known  to  Mr.  Pinch  in 
a  neat  little  ballet  of  action,  spontaneously  invented  for  the 
purpose. 

"  I'll  let  'em  know,  and  I'll  let  all  men  know,"  cried  Chevy 
Slyme,  "  that  I'm  none  of  the  mean,  groveling,  tame  char- 
acters they  meet  with  commonly.  I  have  an  independent 
spirit.  I  have  a  heart  that  swells  in  my  bosom.  I  have  a 
soul  that  rises  superior  to  base  considerations." 

"Oh  Chiv,  Chiv,"  murmured  Mr.  Tigg,  "you  have  a 
nobly  independent  nature,  Chiv  !  " 

"  You  go  and  do  your  duty,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Slyme,  angrily, 
"and  borrow  money  for  traveling  expenses  ;  and  whoever 
you  borrow  it  of,  let  'em  know  that  I  possess  a  haughty  spirit, 
and  a  proud  spirit,  and  I  have  infernally  finely-touched 
chords  in  my  nature,  which  won't  brook  patronage.  Do  you 
hear  ?  Tell  'em  I  hate  'em,  and  that  that's  the  way  I  pre- 
serve my  self-respect ;  and  tell  'em  that  no  man  ever 
respected  himself  more  than  I  do  !  " 

He  might  have  added  that  he  hated  two  sorts  of  men  ;  all 
those  who  did  him  favors,  and  all  those  who  were  better  off 
than  himself  ;  as  in  either  case  their  position  was  an  insult 
to  a  man  of  his  stupendous  merits.  But  he  did  not ;  for 
with  the  apt  closing  words  above  recited,  Mr.  Slyme,  of  too 
haughty  a  stomach  to  work,  to  beg,  to  borrow,  or  to  steal ; 


ii5  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

yet  mean  enough  to  be  worked  or  borrowed,  begged  or 
stolen  for,  by  any  catspaw  that  would  serve  his  turn  ;  too 
insolent  to  lick  the  hand  that  fed  him  in  his  need,  yet  cur 
enough  to  bite  and  tear  it  in  the  dark  ;  with  these  apt  clos- 
ing words,  Mr.  Slyme  fell  forward  with  his  head  upon  the  table, 
and  so  declined  into  a  sodden  sleep. 

"  Was  there  ever,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  joining  the  young  men 
at  the  door,  and  shutting  it  carefully  behind  him,  "  such  an 
independent  spirit  as  is  possessed  by  that  extraordinary  creat- 
ure ?  Was  there  ever  such  a  Roman  as  our  friend  Chiv  ? 
Was  there  ever  such  a  man  of  such  a  purely  classical  turn  of 
thought,  and  of  such  a  toga-like  simplicity  of  nature  ?  Was 
there  ever  a  man  with  such  a  flow  of  eloquence  ?  Might  he 
not,  gents  both,  I  ask,  have  sat  upon  a  tripod  in  the  ancient 
times,  and  prophesied  to  a  perfectly  unlimited  extent,  if  pre- 
viously supplied  with  gin  and  water  at  the  public  cost? " 

Mr,  Pinch  was  about  to  contest  this  latter  position  with 
his  usual  mildness,  when,  observing  that  his  companion  had 
already  gone  down-stairs,  he  prepared  to  follow  him. 

"  You  are  not  going,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  "  said  Tigg. 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Tom.  "Yes.  Don't  come 
down." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  should  like  one  little  word  in  private 
with  you,  Mr.  Pinch?"  said  Tigg,  following  him.  "One 
minute  of  your  company  in  the  skittle-ground  would  very 
much  relieve  my  mind.     Might  I  beseech  that  favor  ?  " 

"Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Tom,  "  if  you  really  wish  it." 
So  he  accompanied  Mr.  Tigg  to  the  retreat  in  question  ;  on 
arriving  at  which  place  that  gentleman  took  from  his  hat 
what  seemed  to  be  the  fossil  remains  of  an  antediluvian 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  wiped  his  eyes  therewith. 

"  You  have  not  beheld  me  this  day,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  '*  in  a 
favorable  light." 

"  Don't  mention  that,"  said  Tom,  "  I  beg." 

"  But  you  have  noi^'  cried  Tigg.  "  I  must  persist  in  that 
opinion.  If  you  could  have  seen  me,  Mr.  Pinch,  at  the  head 
of  my  regiment  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  charging  in  the  form 
of  a  hollow  square,  with  the  women  and  the  children  and  the 
regimental  plate-chest  in  the  center,  you  would  not  have 
known  me  for  the  same  man.  You  would  have  respected 
me,  sir." 

Tom  had  certain  ideas  of  his  own  upon  the  subject  of 
glory  ;  and  consequently  he  was  not  quite  so  much  excited 
by  this  picture  a^-t  Mr.  Tigg  could  have  desired. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  119 

"  But  no  matter  !  "  said  that  gentleman.  "  The  school- 
boy writing  home  to  his  parents  and  describing  the  milk-and- 
Avater,  said  '  This  is  indeed  weakness.'  I  repeat  that  asser- 
tion  in  reference  to  myself  at  the  present  moment  ;  and  I 
ask  your  pardon.     Sir,  you  have  seen  my  friend  Slyme  ?  " 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

*'  Sir,  you  have  been  impressed  by  my  friend  Slyme  ? " 

"  Not  very  pleasantly,  I  must  say,"  answered  Tom  after  a 
little  hesitation.  . 

*'  I  am  grieved  but  not  surprised,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  detain, 
ing  him  by  both  lapels,  *'  to  hear  that  you  have  come  to 
that  conclusion,  for  it  is  my  ^own.  But,  Mr.  Pinch,  though 
I  am  a  rough  and  thoughtless  man,  I  can  honor  mind.  I 
honor  mind  in  following  my  friend.  To  you  of  all  men, 
Mr.  Pinch,  I  have  a  right  to  make  appeal  on  mind's  behalf, 
when  it  has  not  the  art  to  push  its  fortune  in  the  world. 
And  so,  sir — not  for  myself,  who  have  no  claim  upon  you, 
but  tor  my  crushed,  my  sensitive  and  independent  friend, 
who  has — I  ask  the  loan  of  three  half-crowns.  I  ask  you 
for  the  loan  of  three  half  crowns,  distinctly,  and  without  a 
blush.  I  ask  it,  almost  as  a  right.  And  v/hen  I  add  that 
they  will  be  returned  by  post,  this  week,  I  feel  that  you  will 
blame  me  for  that  sordid  stipulation." 

Mr.  Pinch  took  from  his  pocket  an  old-fashioned  red- 
leather  purse  with  a  steel  clasp,  which  had  probably  once 
belonged  to  his  deceased  grandmother.  It  held  one  half- 
sovereign  and  no  more.  All  Tom's  worldly  wealth  unti"  next 
quarter-day. 

"  Stay  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  who  had  watched  this  proceed- 
ing keenly.  "  I  was  just  about  to  say,  that  for  the  conven- 
ience of  posting  you  had  better  make  it  gold.  Thank  you. 
A  general  direction,  I  suppose,  to  JNIr.  Pinch,  at  Mr.  Peck« 
sniff's,  will  find  vou  ?  " 

"  That'll  find  me,"  said  Tom.  *'  You  had  better  put 
Esquire  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  name,  if  you  phase.  Direct  to 
me,  you  know,  at  Seth  Pecksniff's,  Esquire." 

'*  At  Seth  Pecksniff's  Esquire,"  repeated  Mr.  Tigg,  taking 
an  exact  note  of  it  with  a  stump  of  pencil.  *'  We  said  thig 
week,  I  believe  ?  " 

**  Yes  ;  or  Monday  will  do,"  observed  Tom. 

"  Mo,  no,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Monday  will  not  do,"  said 
Mr.  Tigg.  "  If  we  stipulated  for  this  week,  Saturday  is  the 
latest  day.     Did  we  stipulate  for  this  week  ?  " 

"Svnce  you  are  so  particular  about  it,"  said  Tom,  "I 
thi^k  --  did  '' 


i;zO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

is  to  awake  up  cross  ;  to  find  its  legs  in  its  way  ;  and  its 
corns  an  aggravation.  Mr.  Pecksniff  not  being  exempt  from 
the  common  lot  of  humanity,  found  himself,  at  the  end  of 
his  nap,  so  decidedly  the  victim  of  these  infirmities,  that  he 
had  an  irresistible  inclination  to  visit  them  upon  his  daugh- 
ters ;  which  he  had  already  begun  to  do  in  the  shape  of 
divers  random  kicks,  and  other  unexpected  motions  of  his 
shoes,  when  the  coach  stopped,  and  after  a  short  delay,  the 
door  was  ppened. 

"  Now  mind,"  said  a  thin  sharp  voice  in  the  dark.  "  I  and 
my  son  go  inside,  because  the  roof  is  full,  but  you  agree  only 
to  charge  us  outside  prices.  It's  quite  understood  that  we 
won't  pay  more.     Is  it  ?  " 

**  All  right,  sir,"  replied  the  guard. 

*'  Is  there  any  body  inside  now  ?"  inquired  the  voice. 

"  Three  passengers,"  returned  the  guard. 

"  Then  I  ask  the  three  passengers  to  witness  this  bargain, 
if  they  will  be  so  good,"  said  the  voice.  "  My  boy,  I  think  we 
may  safely  get  in." 

In  pursuance  of  which  opinion,  two  people  took  their  seats 
in  the  vehicle,  which  was  solemnly  licensed  by  act  of 
parliament  to  carry  any  six  persons  who  could  be  got  in  at 
the  door. 

*'  That  was  lucky  !  "  whispered  the  old  man,  when  they 
moved  on  again.  "  And  a  great  stroke  of  policy  in  you  to 
observe  it.  He,  he,  he  !  We  couldn't  have  gone  outside.  I 
should  have  died  of  the  rheumatism  !  " 

Whether  it  occurred  to  the  dutiful  son  that  he  had  in  some 
degree  over-reached  himself  by  contributing  to  the  prolonga- 
tion of  his  father's  days  ;  or  whether  the  cold  had  affected  his 
temper  ;  is  doubtful.  But  he  gave  his  father  such  a  nudge  in 
reply,  that  that  good  old  gentleman  was  taken  with  a  cough 
which  lasted  for  full  live  minutes,  without  intermission,  and 
goaded  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  that  pitch  of  irritation,  that  he  said 
at  last,  and  very  suddenly  : 

"  There's  no  room  !  There  is  really  no  room  in  this  coach 
for  any  gentleman  with  a  cold  in  his  head  !  " 

"  Mine,"  said  the  old  man  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  is 
upon  my  chest,  Pecksniff." 

The  voice  and  manner,  together,  now  that  he  spoke  out  ; 
the  composure  of  the  speaker  ;  the  presence  of  his  son  ;  and 
his  knowledge  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  afforded  a  clew  to  his  iden- 
tity which  it  was  impossible  to  mistake. 

"Hem  !     I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  returning  to  his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  121 

suited  me  of  all  other  men  was  that  old  gentleman  as  was 
took  ill  here,  for  he  really  was  a  trying  customer.  Howsever, 
I  must  wait  and  see  what  turns  up,  sir  ;  and  hope  for  the 
worst." 

''  You  are  determined  to  go  then  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  My  box  is  gone  already,  sir,  by  the  wagon,  and  I'm  going 
to  walk  on  to-morrow  morning,  and  get  a  lift  by  the  day 
coach  when  it  overtakes  me.  So  I  wish  you  good-by,  Mr. 
Pinch — and  you  too,  sir — and  all  good  luck  and  happi- 
ness !  " 

They  both  returned  his  greeting  laughingly,  and  walked 
/lome  arm-in-arm  ;  Mr.  Pinch  imparting  to  his  new  friend, 
as  they  went,  such  further  particulars  of  Mark  Tapley's 
whimsical  restlessness  as  the  reader  is  already  acquainted 
with. 

In  the  meantime  Mark,  having  a  shrewd  notion  that  his 
mistress  was  in  very  low  spirits,  and  that  he  could  not  exactly 
answer  for  the  consequences  of  any  lengthened  tete-a-tete  in 
the  bar,  kept  himself  obstinately  out  of  her  way  all  the  after- 
noon and  evening.  In  this  piece  of  generalship  he  was  very 
much  assisted  by  the  great  influx  of  company  into  the  tap- 
room ;  for  the  news  of  his  intention  having  gone  abroad, 
there  was  a  perfect  throng  there  all  the  evening,  and  much 
drinking  of  healths  and  clinking  of  mugs.  At  length  the  house 
was  closed  for  the  night  ;  and  there  being  now  no  help  for 
it,  Mark  put  the  best  face  he  could  upon  the  matter,  and 
walked  doggedly  to  the  bar-door. 

"  If  I  look  at  her,"  said  Mark  to  himself,  ''  I'm  done.  I 
feel  that  I'm  a  going  fast." 

"  You  have  come  at  last,"  said   Mrs.  Lupin. 

Ay,  Mark  said  :     There  he  was. 

''And  you  are  determined  to  leave  us,  Mark  ?  "  cried  Mrs. 
Lupin. 

*'  Why,  yes  ;  I  am,"  said  Mark,  keeping  his  eyes  hard  upon 
the  floor. 

'*  I  thought,"  pursued  the  landlady,  with  a  most  engaging 
hesitation,  *'  that  you  had  been — fond — of  the  Dragon  ?  " 

"So  I  am,"  said  Mark. 

**  Then,"  pursued  the  hostess — and  it  really  was  not  an 
unnatural  inquiry — "  why  do  you  desert  it  ?  " 

But  as  he  gave  no  manner  of  answer  to  this  question,  not 
even  on  its  being  repeated,  Mrs.  Lupin  put  his  money  into 
his  hand,  and  asked  him — not  unkindly,  quite  the  contrary — 
what  he  would  take  ? 


122  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

It  is  proverbial  that  there  are  certain  things  which  flesh 
and  blood  can  not  bear.  Such  a  question  as  this,  propounded 
in  such  a  manner,  at  such  a  time,  and  by  such  a  person, 
proved  (at  least,  as  far  as  Mark's  flesh  and  blood  were  con- 
cerned) to  be  one  of  them.  He  looked  up  in  spite  of  himself 
directly  ;  and  having  once  looked  up,  there  was  no  looking 
down  again  ;  for  of  all  the  tight,  plump,  buxom,  bright-eyed, 
dimple-faced  landladies  that  ever  shone  on  earth,  there  stood 
before  him,  then,  bodily  in  that  bar,  the  very  pink  and  pine- 
apple. 

"  Why,  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Mark,  throwing  off  all  his 
constraint  in  an  instant,  and  seizing  the  hostess  round  the 
waist — at  which  she  was  not  at  all  alarmed,  for  she  knew 
what  a  good  young  man  he  was — "  if  I  took  what  I  liked 
most,  I  should  take  you.  If  I  only  thought  of  what  was  best 
for  me,  I  should  take  you.  If  I  took  what  nineteen  young 
fellows  in  twenty  would  be  glad  to  take,  and  would  take  at 
any  price,  I  should  take  you.  Yes,  I  should,"  cried  Mr. 
Tapley,  shaking  his  head,  expressively  enough,  and  looking 
(in  a  momentary  state  of  forgetfulness)  rather  hard  at  the 
hostess's  ripe  lips.  ''  And  no  man  wouldn't  wonder  if  I 
did  !  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  said  he  amazed  her.  She  was  astonished 
how  he  could  say  such  things.  She  had  never  thought  it  of 
him. 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  it  of  myself  till  now  !  "  said  Mark, 
raising  his  eyebrows  with  a  look  of  the  merriest  possible  sur- 
prise. "  I  always  expected  we  should  part,  and  never  have 
no  explanation  ;  I  meant  to  do  it  when  I  came  in  here  just 
now  ;  but  there's  something  about  you,  as  makes  a  man  sen- 
sible. Then  let  us  have  a  word  or  two  together,  letting  it  be 
understood  beforehartd,"  he  added  this  in  a  grave  tone,  to 
prevent  the  possibility  of  any  mistake,  ''  that  I'm  not  a  going 
to  make  no  love,  you  know." 

There  was  for  just  one  second  a  shade,  though  not  by  any 
means  a  dark  one,  on  the  landlady's  open  brow.  But  it 
passed  off  instantly,  in  a  laugh  that  came  from  her  very 
heart. 

*'  Oh  very  good  !  "  she  said  ;  ^'  if  there  is  to  be  no  love- 
making,  you  had  better  take  your  arm  away." 

"  Lord,  why  should  I  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  It's  quite  inno- 
cent." 

*'  Of  course  it's  innocent,"  returned  the  hostess,  "  or  I 
shouldn't  allow  it," 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  123 

"  Very  well !  "  said  Mark.     "  Then  let  it  be." 

There  was  so  much  reason  in  this,  that  the  landlady 
laughed  again,  suffered  it  to  remain,  and  bade  him  say  what 
he  had  to  say,  and  be  quick  about  it.  But  he  was  an  impu- 
dent fellow,  she  added. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  I  almost  think  I  am  !  "  cried  Mark,  *'  though  I 
never  thought  so  before.  Why,  I  can  say  any  thing 
to-night !  " 

"  Say  what  you're  going  to  say  if  you  please,  and  be 
quick,"  returned  the  landlady,  ^'  for  I  want  to  get  to  bed." 

"Why,  then,  my  dear  good  soul,"  said  Mark,  *' and  a 
kinder  woman  than  you  are,  never  drawed  breath — let  me 
see  the  man  as  says  she  did — what  would  be  the  likely  con- 
sequence of  us  two  being — " 

"Oh  nonsense  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lupin.  "Don't  talk  about 
that  any  more." 

"  No,  no,  but  it  ain't  nonsense,'.'  said  Mark;  "  and  I  wish 
you'd  attend.  What  would  be  the  likely  consequence  of  us 
two  being  married  ?  If  1  can't  be  content  and  comfortable 
in  this  here  lively  Dragon  now,  is  it  to  be  looked  for  as  I 
should  be  then  ?  By  no  means.  Very  good.  Then  you, 
even  with  your  good  humor,  would  be  always  on  the  fret  and 
worrit,  always  uncomfortable  in  your  own  mind,  always  a 
thinking  as  you  was  getting  too  old  for  my  taste,  always  a 
picturing  me  to  yourself  as  being  chained  up  to  the  Dragon 
door,  and  wanting  to  break  away.  I  don't  know  that  it  would 
be  so,"  said  Mark,  "  but  I  don't  know  that  it  mightn't  be, 
I  am  a  roving  sort  of  chap,  I  know.  I'm  fond  of  change. 
I'm  always  a  thinking  that  with  my  good  health  and  spirits 
it  would  be  more  creditable  in  me  to  be  jolly  where  there's 
things  a  going  on  to  make  one  dismal.  It  may  be  a  mistake 
of  mine,  you  see,  but  nothing  short  of  t-rying  how  it  acts,  will 
set  it  right.  Then  ain't  it  best  that  I  should  go;  particular 
when  your  free  way  has  helped  me  out  to  say  all  this,  and 
we  can  part  as  good  friends  as  we  have  ever  been  since  first 
I  entered  this  here  noble  Dragon,  which,"  said  Mr.  Tapley 
in  conclusion,  "  has  my  good  word  and  ray  good  wish,  to  the 
day  of  my  death  !  " 

The  hostess  sat  quite  silent  for  a  little  time,  but  she  very 
soon  put  both  her  hands  in  Mark's  and  shook  them  heartily. 

"  For  you  are  a  good  man,"  she  said,  looking  into  his  face 
with  a  smile,  which  was  rather  serious  for  her.  "  And  I  do 
believe  have  been  a  better  friend  to  me  to-night  than  ever  I 
have  had  in  all  my  life." 


124  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,  you  know,"  said  Mark,  "  that's  non- 
sense. But  love  my  heart  alive  !"  he  added,  looking  at  her 
in  a  sort  of  rapture,  *'  if  you  are  that  way  disposed,  what  a 
lot  of  suitable  husbands  there  is  as  you  may  drive  dis- 
tracted !  " 

She  laughed  again  at  this  compliment;  and,  once  more 
shaking  him  by  both  hands,  and  bidding  him,  if  he  should 
ever  want  a  friend,  to  remember  her,  turned  gayly  from  the 
little  bar  and  up  the  Dragon  staircase. 

"  Humming  a  tune  as  she  goes,"  said  Mark,  listening,  "  in 
case  I  should  think  she's  at  all  put  out,  and  should  be  made 
down-hearted.  Come,  here's  some  credit  in  being  jolly,  at 
last  !  " 

With  that  piece  of  comfort,  very  ruefully  uttered,  he  went, 
in  any  thing  but  a  jolly  manner,  to  bed. 

He  rose  early  next  morning,  and  was  a-foot  soon  after  sun- 
rise. But  it  was  of  no  use;  the  whole  place  was  up  to  see 
Mark  Tapley  off;  the  boys,  the  dogs,  the  children,  the  old 
men,  the  busy  people,  and  the  idlers;  there  they  were,  all 
calling  out  ^'  Good-by,  Mark,"  after  their  own  manmer, 
and  all  sorry  he  was  going.  Somehow  he  had  a  kind  of 
sense  that  his  old  mistress  was  peeping  from  her  chamber 
window,  but  he  couldn't  make  up  his  mind  to  look  back. 

"  Good-by  one,  good-by  all  !  "  cried  Mark,  waving  his  hat 
on  the  top  of  his  walking-stick,  as  he  strode  at  a  quick  pace 
up  the  little  street.  "  Hearty  chaps,  them  wheelwrights — 
hurrah  !  Here's  the  butcher's  dog  a-coming  out  of  the  gar- 
den— down,  old  fellow  !  And  Mr.  Pinch  a-going  to  his 
organ — good-by,  sir  !  And  the  terrier  bitch  from  over  the 
way — hie,  then  lass  !  And  children  enough  to  hand  down 
human  natur  to  the  latest  posterity — good-by,  boys  and 
girls  !  There's  some  credit  in  it  now.  I'm  a-coming  out 
strong  at  last.  These  are  the  circumstances  that  would  try 
a  ordinary  mind;  but  I'm  uncommon  jolly.  Not  quite  as 
jolly  as  I  could  wish  to  be,  but  very  near.  Good-by!  good-by!  " 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

ACCOMPANIES  MR.    PECKSNIFF  AND    HIS  CHARMING  DAUGHTERS 

TO  THE  CITY  OF    LONDON  ;    AND     RELATES    WHAT  FELL  OUT, 
UPON  THEIR  WAY  THITHER. 

When  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  the  two  young  ladies  got  into  the 
heavy  coach  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  they  found   it  empty, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  125 

which  was  a  great  comfort  ;  particularly  as  the  outside  was 
quite  full  and  the  passengers  looked  very  frosty.  For  as 
Mr.  Pecksniff  justly  observed — when  he  and  his  daughters 
had  burrowed  their  feet  deep  in  the  straw,  wrapped  them- 
selves to  the  chin,  and  pulled  up  both  windows — it  is  always 
satisfactory  to  feel,  in  keen  weather,  that  many  other  people 
are  not  as  warm  as  you  are.  And  this,  he  said,  was  quite 
natural,  and  a  very  beautiful  arrangement  ;  not  confined  to 
coaches,  but  extending  itself  into  many  social  ramifications. 
"  For  "  (he  observed),  ''  if  every  one  were  warm  and  well- 
fed,  we  should  lose  the  satisfaction  of  admiring  the  fortitude 
with  v/hich  certain  conditions  of  men  bear  cold  and  hun- 
ger. And  if  we  were  no  better  off  than  any  body  else,  what 
would  become  of  our  sense  of  gratitude  ;  which,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  he  shook  his  fist  at  a 
beggar,  who  wanted  to  get  up  behind,  "  is  one  of  the  holiest 
feelings  of  our  common  nature." 

His  children  heard  with  becoming  reverence  these  moral 
precepts  from  the  lips  of  their  father,  and  signified  their 
acquiescence  in  the  same,  by  smiles.  That  he  might  the 
better  feed  and  cherish  that  sacred  flame  of  gratitude  in  his 
breast,  Mr.  Pecksniff  remarked  that  he  would  trouble  his 
eldest  daughter,  even  in  this  early  stage  of  their  journey, 
for  the  brandy-bottle.  And  from  the  narrow  neck  of  that 
stone  vessel,  he  imbibed  a  copious  refreshment. 

''  What  are  we  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''  but  coaches  ? 
Some  of  us  are  slow  coaches — " 

"  Goodness,  pa  !  "  cried  Charity. 

"  Some  of  us,  I  say,"  resumed  her  parent  with  increased 
emphasis,  "  are  slow  coaches  ;  some  of  us  are  fast  coaches. 
Our  passions  are  the  horses  ;  and  rampant  animals  too  !  " — 

"  Really,  pa  !  "  cried  both  the  daughters  at  once.  "  How 
very  unpleasant  !  " 

''  And  rampant  animals  too  ! "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
with  so  much  determination,  that  he  may  be  said  to  have 
exhibited,  at  the  moment,  a  sort  of  moral  rampancy  him- 
self ;  "and  virtue  is  the  drag.  We  start  from  the  mother's 
arms,  and  we  run  to  the  dust  shovel." 

When  he  had  said  this,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  being  exhausted, 
took  some  further  refreshment.  When  he  had  done  that,  he 
corked  the  bottle  tight,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
effectually  corked  the  subject  also  ;  and  went  to  sleep  for 
three  stages. 

The  tendency  of  mankind  when  it  falls  asleep  in  coaches. 


i2r  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Tigg  added  this  condition  to  his  memorandum  ,  read 
the  entry  over  to  himself  with  a  severe  frown  ;  and  that  the 
transaction  might  be  the  more  correct  and  business-like, 
appended  his  initials  to  the  whole.  That  done  he  assured 
Mr.  Pinch  that  every  thing  was  now  perfectly  regular  ;  and, 
after  squeezing  his  hand  with  great  fervor,  departed. 

Tom  entertained  enough  suspicion  that  Martin  might 
possibly  turn  this  interview  into  a  jest,  to  render  him  desir- 
ous to  avoid  the  company  of  that  young  gentleman  for  the 
present.  With  this  view  he  took  a  few  turns  up  and  down 
the  skittle-ground,  and  did  not  re-enter  the  house  until  Mr. 
Tigg  and  his  friend  had  quitted  it,  and  the  new  pupil  and 
Mark  were  watching  their  departure  from  one  of  the  win- 
dows. 

"  I  was  just  a  saying,  sir,  that  if  one  could  live  by  it," 
observed  Mark,  pointing  after  their  late  guests,  "  that  would 
be  the  sort  of  service  for  me.  Waiting  on  such  individuals 
as  them,  would  be  better  than  grave-digging,  sir." 

**  And  staying  h^re  would  be  better  than  either,  Mark," 
replied  Tom.  "  So  take  my  advice,  and  continue  to  swim 
easily  in  smooth  water." 

"  It's  too  late  to  take  it  now,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  have 
broke  it  to  her,  sir.     I  am  off  to-morrow  morning." 

''  Off  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  "  where  to  ?  " 

*'  I  shall  go  up  to  London,  sir." 

''  What  to  be  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Well  !  I  don't  know  yet,  sir.  Nothing  turned  up  that 
day  I  opened  my  mind  to  you,  as  was  at  all  likely  to  suit  me. 
All  them  trades  I  thought  of  was  a  deal  too  jolly  ;  there  was 
no  credit  at  all  to  be  got  in  any  of  'em.  I  must  look  for  a 
private  service,  I  suppose,  sir.  I  might  be  brought  out 
strong  perhaps,  in  a  serious  family,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  come  out  rather  too  strong  for  a 
serious  family's  taste,  Mark." 

'^  That's  possible,  sir.  If  I  could  get  into  a  wicked  family, 
I  might  do  myself  justice  ;  but  the  difficulty  is  to  make  sure 
of  one's  ground,  because  a  young  man  can't  very  well  adver- 
tise that  he  wants  a  place,  and  wages  an't  so  much  an  object 
as  a  wicked  sitivation  ;  can  he,  sir  ?  " 

''Why,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  I  don't  think  he  can." 

"  An  envious  family,"  pursued  Mark,  with  a  thoughtful 
face;  "  or  a  quarrelsome  family,  or  a  malicious  family,  or 
even  a  good  out-and-out  mean  family,  would  open  a  field  of 
action  as  I  might  do  something  in.     The  man  as  would  have 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  127 

usual  mildness,  **  that  I  addressed  a  stranger.  I  find  that  1 
address  a  relative.  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  his  son 
Mr.  Jonas — for  they,  my  dear  children,  are  our  traveling 
companions — will  excuse  me  for  an  apparently  harsh  remark. 
It  is  not  my  desire  to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  person  with 
whom  I  am  connected  in  family  bonds.  I  may  be  a  hypo- 
crite," said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  cuttingly,  "  but  I  am  not  a  brute." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  said  the  old  man,  *'  What  signifies  that 
word,  Pecksniff  ?  Hypocrite  !  v^-hy,  we  are  all  hypocrites. 
We  were  all  hypocrites  t'other  day.  I  am  sure  I  felt  that  to 
be  agreed  upon  among  us,  or  I  shouldn't  have  called  you 
one.  We  should  not  have  been  there  at  all  if  we  had  not 
been  hypocrites.  The  only  difference  between  you  and  the 
rest  was — shall  I  tell  you  the  difference  between  you  and  the 
rest  now,  Pecksniff  ? " 

"  If  you  please,  my  good  sir  ;  if  you  please." 

*'  Why,  the  annoying  quality  xnyou  is,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  that  you  never  have  a  confederate  or  partner  in  your  jug- 
gling ;  you  would  deceive  every  body,  even  those  who  prac- 
tice the  same  art  ;  and  have  a  way  with  you,  as  if  you — he, 
he,  he  ! — as  if  you  really  believed  yourself.  I'd  lay  a  hand- 
some wager  now,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  I  laid  wagers, 
which  I  don't  and  never  did,  that  you  keep  up  appearances 
by  a  tacit  understanding,  even  before  your  own  daughters 
here.  Now  I,  when  I  have  a  business  scheme  in  hand,  tell 
Jonas  what  it  is,  and  we  discuss  it  openly.  You're  not 
offended,  Pecksniff?" 

*'  Offended,  my  good  sir  !  "  cried  that  gentleman,  as  if  he 
had  received  the  highest  compliment  that  language  could 
convey. 

"  Are  you  traveling  to  London,  Mr.  Pecksniff  ?  "  asked 
the  son. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Jonas,  we  are  traveling  to  London.  We  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  company  all  the  way,  I  trust  ?  " 

'^  Oh  !  ecod,  you  had  better  ask  father  that,"  said  Jonas. 
"  I  am  not  going  to  commit  myself." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  greatly  enter- 
tained by  this  retort.  His  mirth  having  subsided,  Mr.  Jonas 
gave  him  to  understand  that  himself  and  parent  were  in  fact 
traveling  to  their  home  in  the  metropolis;  and  that,  since  the 
memorable  day  of  the  great  family  gathering,  they  had  been 
tarrying  in  that  part  of  the  country,  watching  the  sale  of  cer- 
tain eligible  investments,  which  they  had  had  in  their  copart- 
nership eye  when  they  came  down  ;  for  it  was  their  custom, 


128  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr,  Jonas  said,  whenever  such  a  thing  was  practicable,  to  kill 
two  birds  with  one  stone,  and  never  to  throw  away  sprats, 
but  as  a  bait  for  whales.  When  he  had  communicated  to 
Mr.  Pecksniff  these  pithy  scraps  of  intelligence,  he  said, 
"  That  if  it  was  all  the  same  to  him,  he  would  turn  him  over 
to  father,  and  have  a  chat  with  the  gals  ;  "  and  in  further- 
ance of  this  polite  scheme,  he  vacated  his  seat  adjoining  that 
gentleman,  and  established  himself  in  the  opposite  corner, 
next  to  the  fair  Miss  Mercy. 

The  education  of  Mr.  Jonas  had  been  conducted  from  his 
cradle  on  the  strictest  principles  of  the  main  chance.  The 
very  first  word  he  learned  to  spell  was  '*  gain,"  and  the  second 
one  (when  he  got  into  two  syllables),  "  money."  But  for  two 
results,  which  were  not  clearly  foreseen  perhaps  by  his 
watchful  parent  in  the  beginning,  his  training  may  be  said 
to  have  been  unexceptionable.  One  of  these  flaws  was,  that 
having  been  long  taught  by  his  father  to  over-reach  every 
body,  he  had  imperceptibly  acquired  a  love  for  over-reach- 
ing that  venerable  monitor  himself.  The  other,  that  from  his 
early  habits  of  considering  every  thing  as  a  question  of 
property,  he  had  gradually  come  to  look,  with  impatience, 
on  his  parent  as  a  certain  amount  of  personal  estate  which 
had  no  right  whatever  to  be  going  at  large,  but  ought  to  be 
secured  in  that  particular  description  of  iron  safe  which  is 
commonly  called  a  coffin,  and  banked  in  the  grave. 

"  Well,  cousin  !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas;  ''  because  we  ^/'<?  cousins, 
you  know,  a  few  times  removed  ;  so  you're  going  to  Lon- 
don?" 

Miss  Mercy  replied  in  the  affirmative,  pinching  her  sister's 
arm  at  the  same  time,  and  giggling  excessively. 

"  Lots  of  beaux  in  London,  cousin  !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas, 
slightly  advancing  his  elbow. 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  "  cried  the  young  lady.  "  They  won't  hurt 
us,  sir,  I  dare  say."  And  having  given  him  this  answer  with 
great  demureness,  she  was  so  overcome  by  her  own  humor, 
that  she  was  fain  to  stifle  her  merriment  in  her  sister's  shawl. 

*'  Merry,"  cried  that  more  prudent  damsel,  "  really  I  am 
ashamed  of  you.  How  can  you  go  on  so  ?  You  wild  thing  !  " 
At  which  Miss  Merry  only  laughed  the  more,  of  course. 

"  I  saw  a  wildness  in  her  eye,  t'other  day,"  said  Mr.  Jonas, 
addressing  Charity.  "  But  you're  the  one  to  sit  solemn  !  I 
say  !  You  were  regularly  prim,  cousin  !  " 

*' Oh  !  The  old-fashioned  fright  !"  cried  Merry,  in  a  whis- 
per.    "  Cherry,  my  dear,  upon   my  word,  you  must   sit  next 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVvlT.  129 

him.  I  shall  die  outright  if  he  talks  to  me  any  more;  I  shall, 
positively  !  "  To  prevent  which  fatal  consequence,  the  buoy- 
ant creature  skipped  out  of  her  seat  as  she  spoke,  and 
squeezed  her  sister  into  the  place  from  which  she  had  risen. 

''  Don't  mind  crowding  me,"  cried  Mr.  Jonas.  "  I  like  to 
be  crowded  by  gals.     Come  a  little  closer,  cousin." 

''No,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Charity. 

"  There's  that  other  one  a-laughing  again,"  said  Mr.  Jonas; 
'^  she's  a-laughing  at  my  father,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  If  he 
puts  on  that  old  flannel  nightcap  of  his,  I  don't  know  what 
she'll  do  !   Is  that  my  father  a-snoring,  Pecksniff  ? " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Jonas." 

"  Tread  upon  his  foot,  will  you  be  so  good  ?  "  said  the 
young  gentleman.     "  The  foot  next  you's  the  gouty  one." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  hesitating  to  perform  this  friendly  office, 
Mr.  Jonas  did  it  himself,  at  the  same  time  crying: 

"  Come,  wake  up,  father,  or  you'll  be  having  the  night- 
mare, and  screeching  out,  /  know. — Do  you  ever  have  the 
nightmare,  cousin  ?"  he  asked  his  neighbor,  with  character- 
istic gallantry,  as  he  dropped  his  voice  again. 

"  Sometimes,"  answered  Charity.     "  Not  often." 

"The  other  one,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  after  a  pause.  "  Does 
she  ever  have  the  nightmare  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  rcDlied  Charity.  "You  had  better  ask 
her." 

"  She  laughs  so,"  said  Jonas,  "  there's  no  talking  to  her. 
Only  hark  how  she's  going  on  now  !  You're  the  sensible  one, 
cousin  !  " 

"  Tut,  tut  !  "  cried  Charity. 

"  Oh  !  But  you  are  !  You  know  you  are  ! " 

*'  Mercy  is  a  little  giddy,"  said  Miss  Charity.  "  But  she'll 
sober  down  in  time." 

"  It'll  be  a  very  long  time,  then,  if  she  does  at  all,"  rejoined 
her  cousin.     "  Take  a  little  more  room." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  crowding  you,"  said  Charity.  But  she 
took  it  notwithstanding;  and  after  one  or  two  remarks  on  the 
extreme  heaviness  of  the  coach,  and  the  number  of  places  it 
stopped  at,  they  fell  into  a  silence  wliich  remained  unbroken 
by  any  member  of  the  party  until  supper-time. 

Although  Mr.  Jonas  conducted  Charity  to  the  hotel  and 
sat  himself  beside  her  at  the  board,  it  was  pretty  clear  that 
he  had  an  eye  to  "the  other  one"  also,  for  he  often  glanced 
across  at  Mercy,  and  seemed  to  draw  comparisons  between 
the  personal  appearance  of  the  two,  which  were  not  unfavor- 


ijo  .     MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

able  to  the  superior  plumpness  of  the  younger  sister.  He 
allowed  himself  no  great  leisure  for  this  kind  of  observation, 
however,  being  busily  engaged  with  the  supper,  which,  as  he 
whispered  in  his  fair  companion's  ear,  was  a  contract  busi- 
ness, and  therefore,  the  more  she  ate,  the  better  the  bargain 
was.  His  father  and  Mr.  Pecksniff,  probably  acting  on  the 
same  wise  principle,  demolished  every  thing  that  came  within 
their  reach,  and  by  that  means  acquired  a  greasy  expression 
of  countenance,  indicating  contentment,  if  not  repletion, 
vv^hich  it  was  very  pleasant  to  contemplate. 

When  they  could  eat  no  more,  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  Mr. 
Jonas  subscribed  for  two  sixpenny-worths  of  hot  brandy  and 
water,  which  the  latter  gentleman  considered  a  more  politic 
order  than  one  shilling's-worth;  there  being  a  chance  of  their 
getting  more  spirit  out  of  the  innkeeper  under  this  arrange- 
ment than  if  it  were  all  in  one  glass.  Having  swallowed  his 
share  of  the  enlivening  fluid,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  under  pretense 
of  going  to  see  if  the  coach  were  ready,  went  secretly  to  the 
bar  and  had  his  own  little  bottle  filled,  in  order  that  he  might 
refresh  himelf  at  leisure  in  the  dark  coach  without  being 
observed. 

These  arrangements  concluded,  and  the  coach  being  ready, 
they  got  into  their  old  places  and  jogged  on  again.  But 
before  he  composed  himself  for  a  nap,  Mr.  Pecksniff  deliv- 
ered a  kind  of  grace  after  meat,  in  these  words: 

"The  process  of  digestion,  as  I  have  been  informed  by 
anatomical  friends,  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  works  of 
nature.  I  do  not  know  how  it  may  be  with  others,  but  it  is  a 
great  satisfaction  to  me  to  know,  when  regaling  on  my  humble 
fare,  ihat  I  am  putting  in  motion  the  most  beautiful  machinery 
with  which  we  have  any  acquaintance.  I  really  feel  at  such 
times  as  if  I  was  doing  a  public  service.  When  I  have 
wound  myself  up,  if  I  may  employ  such  a  term,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff  with  exquisite  tenderness,  *'  and  know  that  I  am 
going,  I  feel  that  in  the  lesson  afforded  by  the  works  within 
me,  I  am  a  benefactor  to  my  kind!  " 

As  nothing  could  be  added  to  this,  nothing  was  said;  and 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  exulting,  it  may  be  presumed,  in  his  moral 
utility,  went  to  sleep  again. 

The  rest  of  the  night  wore  away  in  the  usual  manner. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  and  old  Anthony  kept  tumbling  against  each 
other  and  waking  up  much  terrified,  or  crushed  their  heads 
in  opposite  corners  of  the  coach  and  strangely  tattooed 
the    surface   of    their   faces— heaven   knows   how — in  their 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  131 

sleep.  The  coach  stopped  and  went  on,  and  went  on  and 
stopped,  times  out  of  number.  Passengers  got  up  and 
passengers  got  down,  and  fresh  horses  came  and  went  and 
came  again,  with  scarcely  any  interval  between  each  team  as 
it  seemed  to  those  who  were  dozing,  and  with  a  gap  of  a 
whole  night  between  every  one,  as  it  seemed  to  those  who 
were  broad  awake.  x\t  length,  they  began  to  jolt  and  rum- 
ble over  horribly  uneven  stones,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  looking 
out  of  window  said  it  was  to-morrow  morning,  and  they  were 
there. 

Very  soon  afterv/ard  the  coach  stopped  at  the  office  in  the 
city;  and  the  street  in  v,-hich  it  was  situated  was  already  in  a 
bustle,  that  fully  bore  out  Mr.  Pecksniff's  words  about  its 
being  morning,  though  for  any  signs  of  day  yet  appearing  in 
the  sky  it  might  have  been  midnight.  There  was  a  dense  fog 
too;  as  if  it  were  a  city  in  the  clouds,  which  they  had  been 
traveling  to  all  night  up  a  magic  beanstalk;  and  a  thick 
crust  upon  the  pavement  like  oil-cake  ;  which,  one  of 
the  outsides  (mad,  no  doubt)  said  to  another  (his  keeper,  of 
course),  was  snow. 

Taking  a  confused  leave  of  Anthony  and  his  son,  and 
leaving  the  luggage  of  himself  and  daughters  at  the  office  to 
be  called  for  afterward,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  v.ith  one  of  the 
young  ladies  under  each  arm,  dived  across  the  street,  and 
then  across  other  streets,  and  so  up  the  queerest  courts,  and 
down  the  strangest  alleys,  and  under  the  blindest  archways, 
in  a  kind  of  frenzy;  now  skipping  over  a  kennel,  now  run- 
ning for  his  life  from  a  coach  and  horses;  now  thinking  he 
had  lost  his  way,  now  thinking  he  had  found  it;  now  in  a 
state  of  the  highest  confidence,  now  despondent  to  the  last 
degree,  but  always  in  a  great  perspiration  and  flurry;  until 
at  length  they  stopped  in  a  kind  of  paved  yard  near  the 
monument.  That  is  to  say,  Mr.  Pecksniff  told  them  so;  for 
as  to  any  thing  they  could  see  of  the  monument,  or  any  thing 
else  but  the  buildings  close  at  hand,  they  might  as  well  have 
been  playing  blindman's  buff  at  Salisbury. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  about  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
knocked  at  the  door  of  a  very  dingy  edifice,  even  among  the 
choice  collection  of  dingy  edifices  at  hand;  on  the  front  of 
which  was  a  little  oval  board  like  a  tea-tray,  with  this  inscrip- 
tion: "  Commercial  Boarding-house.     M.  Todgers," 

It  seemed  that  M.  Todger  was  not  up  yet,  for  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff knocked  twice  and  rang  thrice,  without  making  any 
impression  on  any  thing  but  a  dog  over  the  way.     At  last  a 


132  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

chain  and  some  bolts  were  withdrawn  with  a  rusty  noise,  as 
if  the  weather  had  made  the  very  fastenings  hoarse,  and  a 
small  boy  with  a  large  red  head,  and  no  nose  to  speak  of, 
and  a  very  dirty  Wellington  boot  on  his  left  arm,  appeared; 
who  (being  surprised)  rubbed  the  nose  just  mentioned  with 
the  back  of  a  shoe-brush,  and  said  nothing. 

*'  Still  a-bed,  my  man? "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"Still  a-bed!"  replied  the  boy.  "I  wish  they  wos  still 
a-bed.  I'hey're  very  noisy  a-bed;  all  calling  for  their  boots 
at  once.  I  thought  you  was  the  paper,  and  wondered  why 
you  didn't  shove  yourself  through  the  grating  as  usual.  What 
do  you  want  ? " 

Considering  his  years,  which  were  tender,  the  youth  may 
be  said  to  have  preferred  this  question  sternly,  and  in  some- 
thing of  a  defiant  manner.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff,  without  taking 
umbrage  at  his  bearing,  put  a  card  in  his  hand,  and  bade  him 
take  that  up-stairs,  and  show  them  in  the  meanwhile  into  a 
room  where  there  was  a  fire. 

"  Or  if  there's  one  in  the  eating  parlor,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, '*  I  can  find  it  myself."  So  he  led  his  daughters,  with- 
out waiting  for  any  further  introduction,  into  a  room  on  the 
ground  floor,  where  a  table-cloth  (rather  a  tight  and  scanty 
fit  in  reference  to  the  table  it  covered)  was  already  spread  for 
breakfast;  displaying  a  mighty  dish  of  pink  boiled  beef;  an 
instance  of  that  particular  style  of  loaf  which  is  known  to 
housekeepers  as  a  slack-baked,  crummy  quartern;  a  liberal 
provision  of  cups  and  saucers;  and  the  usual  appendages. 

Inside  the  fender  were  some  half-dozen  pairs  of  shoes  and 
boots,  of  various  sizes,  just  cleaned,  and  turned  with  the  soles 
upward  to  dry;  and  a  pair  of  short  black  gaiters,  on  one  of 
which  was  chalked — in  sport  it  would  appear,  by  some  gen- 
tleman who  had  slipped  down  for  the  purpose,  pending  his 
toilet,  and  gone  up  again — **Jinkins's  Particular,"  while  the 
other  exhibited  a  sketch  in  profile,  claiming  to  be  the  por- 
trait of  Jinkins  himself. 

M.  Todgers's  commercial  boarding-house  was  a  house  of 
that  sort  which  is  likely  to  be  dark  at  any  time;  but  that 
morning  it  was  especially  dark.  There  was  an  odd  smell  in 
the  passage,  as  if  the  concentrated  essence  of  all  the  dinners 
that  had  been  cooked  in  the  kitchen  since  the  house  was 
built,  lingered  at  the  top  of  the  kitchen  stairs  to  that  hour; 
and,  like  the  Black  Friar  in  Don  Juan,  '*  wouldn't  be  driven 
away."  In  particular,  there  was  a  sensation  of  cabbage;  as 
if  all  the  greens  that  had  ever  been  boiled  there  were  ever- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  133 

greens,  and  flourished  in  immortal  strength.  The  parlor  was 
wainscoted,  and  communicated  to  strangers  a  magnetic  and 
instinctive  consciousness  of  rats  and  mice.  The  staircase 
was  very  gloomy  and  very  broad,  with  balustrades  so  thick 
and  heavy  that  they  would  have  served  for  a  bridge.  In  a 
somber  corner  of  the  first  landing  stood  a  gruff  old  giant  of 
a  clock,  with  a  preposterous  coronet  of  three  brass  balls  on 
his  head;  whom  few  had  ever  seen — none  ever  looked  in  the 
face — and  who  seemed  to  continue  his  heavy  tick  for  no 
other  reason  than  to  warn  heedless  people  from  running  into 
him  accidentally.  It  had  not  been  papered  or  painted, 
hadn't  Todgers's,  within  the  memory  of  man.  It  was  very 
black,  begrimed,  and  moldy.  And,  at  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case, was  an  old,  disjointed,  rickety,  ill-favored  skylight, 
patched  and  mended  in  all  kinds  of  ways,  which  looked  dis- 
trustfully down  at  every  thing  that  passed  below,  and  covered 
Todgers's  up  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of  human  cucumber-frame, 
and  only  people  of  a  peculiar  growth  were  reared  there. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  fair  daughters  had  not  stood  warm- 
ing themselves  at  the  fire  ten  minutes,  when  the  sound  of 
feet  was  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  the  presiding  deity  of 
the  establishment  came  hurrying  in. 

M.  Todgers  was  a  lady,  rather  a  bony  and  hard-featured 
lady,  with  a  row  of  curls  in  front  of  her  head,  shaped  like 
little  barrels  of  beer  ;  and  on  the  top  of  it  something  made 
of  net — you  couldn't  call  it  a  cap  exactly — which  looked 
like  a  black  cobweb.  She  had  a  little  basket  on  her  arm, 
and  in  it  a  bunch  of  keys  that  jingled  as  she  came.  In  her 
other  hand  she  bore  a  flaming  tallow  candle,  which,  after 
surveying  Mr.  Pecksniff  for  one  instant  by  its  light,  she  put 
down  upon  the  table,  to  the  end  that  she  might  receive  him 
with  the  greater  cordiality. 

*■  Mr.  Pecksniff!"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers.  'MVelcome  to 
London!  Who  would  have  thought  of  such  a  visit  as  this, 
after  so  —dear,  dear! — so  many  years!  How  do  you  do^  Mr. 
■Pecksniff?" 

*'As  well  as  ever;  and  as  glad  to  see  you  as  ever,"  Mr. 
Pecksniff  made  response.  "  Why,  you  are  younger  than  you 
used  to  be!  " 

"  K?//  are,  I  am  sure!  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "You're  not 
a  bit  changed." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this  ? "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  toward  the  young  ladies.  *'  Does  this  make 
me  no  older  ?" 


134  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Not  your  daughters!  "  exclaimed  the  lady,  raising  her 
hands  and  clasping  them.  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Pecksniff!  Your 
second  and  her  bridesmaid!  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  smiled  complacently,  shook  his  head,  and 
said:  "  My  daughters,  Mrs.  Todgers.    Merely  my  daughters." 

''Ah!"  sighed  the  good  lady, '' I  must  believe  you,  for 
now  I  look  at  'em  I  think  I  should  have  known  'em  any- 
where. My  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,  how  happy  your  pa  has 
made  me! " 

She  hugged  them  both;  and  being  by  this  time  over- 
powered by  her  feelings  or  the  inclemency  of  the  morning, 
jerked  a  little  pocket  handkerchief  out  of  the  little  basket, 
and  applied  the  same  to  her  face. 

*'  Now,  my  good  madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  know 
the  rules  of  your  establishment,  and  that  you  only  receive 
gentlemen  boarders.  But  it  occurred  to  me,  when  I  left 
home,  that  perhaps  you  would  give  my  daughters  house- 
room,  and  make  an  exception  in  their  favor." 

"  Perhaps?  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  ecstatically.  "  Perhaps  ?  " 

"  I  may  say,  then,  that  I  was  sure  you  would,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  ''  I  know  that  you  have  a  little  room  of  your 
own,  and  that  they  can  be  comfortable  there  without  appear- 
ing a',  the  general  table." 

"Dear  girls!"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "I  must  take  that 
liberty  once  more." 

Mrs.  Todgers  meant  by  this  that  she  must  embrace  them 
once  more,  which  she  accordingly  did,  with  great  ardor. 
But  the  truth  was,  that  the  house  being  full  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  bed,  which  would  now  be  occupied  by  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, she  wanted  time  for  consideration  ;  and  so  much  time 
too  (for  it  was  a  knotty  point  how  to  dispose  of  them),  that 
even  when  this  second  embrace  was  over,  she  stood  for  some 
moments  gazing  at  the  sisters,  with  affection  beaming  in  one 
eye,  and  calculation  shining  out  of  the  other. 

**  I  think  I  know  how  to  arrange  it,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
at  length.  "  A  sofa  bedstead  in  the  little  third  room  which 
opens  from  my  own  parlor — Oh,  you  dear  girls !  " 

Thereupon  she  embraced  them  once  more,  observing  that 
she  could  not  decide  which  was  most  like  their  poor  mother 
(which  was  highly  probable  ;  seeing  that  she  had  never 
beheld  that  lady),  but  that  she  rather  thought  the  youngest 
was  ;  and  then  she  said  that  as  the  gentlemen  would  be  down 
directly,  and  the  ladies  were  fatigued  with  traveling,  would 
they  step  into  her  room  at  once  ? 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  135 

It  was  on  the  same  floor  ;  being,  in  fact,  the  back  parlor  ; 
and  had,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  said,  the  great  advantage  (in  Lon- 
don) of  not  being  overlooked  ;  as  they  v/ould  see  when  the 
fog  cleared  off.  Nor  was  tliis  a  vain-glorious  boast,  for  it 
commanded  at  a  perspective  of  two  feet,  a  brown  wall  with 
a  black  cistern  on  the  top.  The  sleeping  apartment  designed 
for  the  young  ladies  was  approached  from  this  chamber  by 
a  mightily  convenient  little  door,  which  would  only  open  when 
fallen  against  by  a  strong  person.  It  commanded  from  a 
similar  point  of  sight  another  angle  of  the  wall,  and  another 
side  of  the  cistern.  "  Not  the  damp  side,"  said  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers.    "  That  is  Mr.  Jinkins's." 

In  the  first  of  these  sanctuaries  a  fire  was  speedily  kindled 
by  the  youthful  porter,  who,  whistling  at  his  work  in  the 
absence  of  Mrs.  Todgers  (not  to  mention  his  sketching  fig- 
ures on  his  corduroys  with  burnt  firewood),  and  being  after- 
ward taken  by  that  lady  in  the  fact,  was  dismissed  with  a 
box  on  his  ears.  Having  prepared  breakfast  for  the  young 
ladies  with  her  own  hands,  she  withdrew  to  preside  in  the 
other  room  ;  where  the  joke  at  Mr.  Jinkins's  expense,  seemed 
to  be  proceeding  rather  noisily. 

"  I  won't  ask  you  yet,  m_y  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  look- 
ing in  at  the  door,  "  how  you  like  London.     Shall  I  ?  " 

"  We  haven't  seen  much  of  it,  pa  !  "  cried  Merry. 

*'  Nothing,  I  hope,"  said  Cherry.     (Both  very  miserably.) 

"Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  '^  that's  true.  We  have 
our  pleasure,  and  our  business  too,  before  us.  All  in  good 
time.     All  in  good  time  !  " 

Whether  Mr.  Pecksniff's  business  in  London  was  as  strictly 
professional  as  he  had  given  his  new  pupil  to  understand, 
we  shall  see,  to  adopt  that  worthy  man's  phraseology,  **  all 
in  good  time." 

CHAPTER  IX. 

TOWN  AND  todgers' S. 

Surely  there  never  was,  in  any  other  borough,  or  city,  or 
hamlet  in  the  world,  such  a  singular  sort  of  place  as  Tod- 
gers*s.  And  surely  London,  to  judge  from  that  part  of  it 
which  hemmed  Todgers's  round,  and  hustled  it,  and  crushed 
it,  and  stuck  its  brick-and-mortar  elbows  into  it,  and  kept 
the  air  from  it,  and  stood  perpetually  between  it  and  the 
light,  was  worthy  of  Todgers's,  and  qualified  to  be  on  terms 


136  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

of  close  relationship  and  alliance  with  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands of  the  odd  family  to  which  Todgers's  belonged. 

You  couldn't  walk  about  in  Todgers's  neighborhood,-  as 
you  could  in  any  other  neighborhood.  You  groped  your 
way  for  an  hour  through  lanes  and  by-ways,  and  court- 
yards, and  passages  ;  and  you  never  once  emerged  upon 
any  thing  that  might  be  reasonably  called  a  street.  A  kind 
of  resigned  distraction  came  over  the  stranger  as  he  trod 
those  devious  mazes,  and,  giving  himself  up  for  lost,  went  in 
and  out  and  round  about  and  quietly  turned  back  again  when 
he  came  to  a  dead  wall  or  was  stopped  by  an  iron  railing,  and 
felt  that  the  means  of  escape  might  possibly  present  them- 
selves in  their  own  good  time,  but  that  to  anticipate  them  was 
hopeless.  Instances  were  known  of  people  who  being  asked  to 
dine  at  Todgers's  had  traveled  round  and  round  it  for  a  weary 
time,  with  its  very  'chimney-pots  in  view  ;  and  finding  it,  at 
last,  impossible  of  attainment,  had  gone  home  again  with  a 
gentle  melancholy  on  their  spirits,tranquil  and  uncomplaining. 
Nobody  had  ever  found  'I'odgers'  on  a  verbal  direction,  though 
given  within  a  minute's  walk  of  it.  Cautious  emigrants  from 
Scotland  or  the  North  of  England  had  been  known  to  reach 
it  safely,  by  impressing  a  charity-boy,  town-bred, and  bringing 
him  along  with  them  ;  or  by  clinging  tenaciously  to  the  post- 
man ;  but  these  were  rare  exceptions,  and  only  went  to  prove 
the  rule  that  Todgers's  was  in  a  labyrinth,  whereof  the  mys- 
tery was  known  but  to  a  chosen  few. 

Several  fruit-brokers  had  their  marts  near  Todgers's  ;  and 
one  of  the  first  impressions  wrought  upon  the  stranger's 
senses  was  of  oranges — of  damaged  oranges,  with  blue  and 
green  bruises  on  them,  festering  in  boxes  or  moldering  away 
in  cellars.  All  day  long,  a  stream  of  porters  from  the  wharves 
beside  the  river,  each  bearing  on  his  back  a  bursting  chest 
of  oranges,  poured  slowly  through  the  narrow  passage;  while 
underneath  the  archway  by  the  public-house,  the  knots  of 
those  who  rested  and  regaled  within,  were  piled  from  morn- 
ing until  night.  Strange  solitary  pumps  were  found  near 
Todgers's  hiding  themselves  for  the  most  part  in  blind 
alleys,  and  keeping  company  with  fireTadders.  There  were 
churches  also  by  dozens,  with  many  a  ghostly  little  church- 
yard, all  overgrown  with  such  straggling  vegetation  as  springs 
up  spontaneously  from  damp,  and  graves,  and  rubbish.  Jn 
some  of  these  dingy  resting-places,  which  bore  much  the 
same  analogy  to  green  church-yards,  as  the  pots  of  earth 
for  mignonette  and  wall-flowers  in  the  window   overlooking 


MARllN  CHUZZLEWIT.  137 

tliem,  did  to  rustic  gardens,  there  were  trees;  tall  trees  ;  still 
putting  forth  their  leaves  in  each  succeeding  year,  with  such 
a  languishing  remembranceof  their  kind  (so  one  might  fancy, 
looking  on  their  sickly  boughs),  as  birds  in  cages  have  of 
theirs.  Here,  paralyzed  old  watchmen  guarded  the  bodies 
of  the  dead  at  night  year  after  year,  until  at  last  they  joined 
that  solemn  brotherhood  ;  and,  saving  that  they  slept  below 
the  ground  a  sounder  sleep  than  even  they  had  ever  known 
above  it,  and  were  shut  up  in  another  kind  of  box,  their  con- 
dition can  hardly  be  said  to  have  undergone  any  material 
change  when  they  in  turn  were  watched  themselves. 

Among  the  narrow  thoroughfares  at  hand,  there  lingered, 
here  and  there,  an  ancient  doorway  of  carved  oak,  from 
which,  of  old,  the  sounds  of  revelry  and  feasting  often  came; 
but  now  these  mansions,  only  used  for  storehouses,  were 
dark  and  dull,  and  being  filled  with  wool,  and  cotton,  and 
the  like — such  heavy  merchandise  as  stifles  sound  and  stops 
the  throat  of  echo — had  an  air  of  palpable  deadness  about 
them  which,  added  to  their  silence  and  desertion,  made  them 
very  grim.  In  like  manner,  there  were  gloomy  court-yards 
in  these  parts,  into  which  few  but  belated  wayfarers  ever 
strayed,  and  where  vast  bags  and  pa.cks  of  goods,  upward  or 
downward  bound,  were  forever  dangling  between  heaven 
and  earth  from  lofty  cranes.  There  were  more  trucks  near 
Todgers's  than  you  would  suppose  a  whole  city  could  ever 
need  ;  not  active  trucks  but  a  vagabond  race,  forever 
lounging  in  the  narrow  lanes  before  their  masters'  doors  and 
stopping  up  the  pass  ;  so  that  when  a  stray  hackney-coach 
or  lumbering  wagon  came  that  way,  they  were  the  cause  of 
such  an  uproar  as  enlivened  the  whole  neighborhood,  and 
made  the  very  bells  in  the  next  church-tower  vibrate  again. 
In  the  throats  and  mav/s  of  dark  no-thoroughfares  near  Tod- 
gers's, individual  wine-merchants  and  wholesale  dealers  in 
grocery-ware  had  perfect  little  towns  of  their  own;  and,  deep 
among  the  foundations  of  the  buildings,  the  ground  was 
undermined  and  burrowed  out  into  stables,  where  cart-horses, 
troubled  by  rats,  might  be  heard  on  a  quiet  Sunday  rattling 
their  halters,  as  disturbed  spirits  in  tales  of  haunted  houses 
are  said  to  clank  their  chains. 

To  tell  of  half  the  queer  old  taverns  that  had  a  drowsy 
and  secret  existence  near  Todgers's  would  fill  a  goodly  book; 
while  a  second  volume  no  less  capacious  might  be  devoted 
to  an  account  of  the  quaint  old  guests  who  frequent  their 
dimly-lighted  parlors.  These  were,  in  general,  ancient  inhabi- 


138  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

tants  of  that  region  ;  born,  and  bred  there  from 
boyhood  ;  who  had  long  since  become  wheezy  and  asth- 
matical,  and  short  of  breath  except  in  the  article  of  story 
telling,  in  which  respect  they  were  still  marvelously  long- 
winded.  These  gentry  were  much  opposed  to  steam  and 
all  new-fangled  ways,  and  held  ballooning  to  be  sinful,  and 
deplored  the  degeneracy  of  the  times  ;  which  that  particular 
member  of  each  little  club  who  kept  the  keys  of  the  nearest 
church  professionally,  always  attributed  to  the  prevalence  of 
dissent  and  irreligion  ;  though  the  major  part  of  the  com- 
pany inclined  to  the  belief  that  virtue  went  out  with 
hair-powder,  and  that  old  England's  greatness  had  decayed 
amain  with  barbers. 

As  to  Todgers's  itself — speaking  of  it  only  as  a  house  in 
that  neighborhood,  and  making  no  reference  to  its  merits  as 
a  commercial  boarding  establishment — it  was  worthy  to 
stand  where  it  did.  There  was  one  staircase-window  in  it  at 
the  side  of  the  house,  on  the  ground- floor,  which 
tradition  said  had  not  been  opened  for  a  hundred  years  at 
least,  and  which  abutting  on  an  always  dirty  lane,  was  so 
begrimed  and  coated  with  a  century's  mud,  that 
no  one  pane  of  glass  could  possibly  fall  out,  though 
all  were  cracked  and  broken  twenty  times.  But  the 
grand  mystery  of  Todgers's  was  the  cellarage,  approach- 
able only  by  a  little  back  door  and  a  rusty  grating,  which 
cellarage  v/ithin  the  memory  of  man  had  had  no  connection 
with  the  house,  but  had  always  been  the  freehold  property 
of  somebody  else,  and  was  reported  to  be  full  of  wealth  : 
though  in  what  shape — whether  in  silver,  brass,  or  gold,  or 
butts  of  wine,  or  casks  of  gunpowder — was  a  matter  of  pro- 
found uncertainty  and  supreme  indifference  to  Todgers's,  and 
all  its  inmates. 

The  top  of  the  house  was  worthy  of  notice.'  There  was 
a  sort  of  terrace  on  the  roof,  with  posts  and  fragments  of 
rotten  lines,  once  intended  to  dry  clothes  upon  ;  and  there 
were  two  or  three  tea-chests  out  there,  full  of  earth,  with 
forgotten  plants  in  them,  like  old  walking-sticks.  Whoever 
climbed  to  this  observatory,  was  stunned  at  first  from  having 
knocked  his  head  against  the  little  door  in  coming  out  ;  and 
after  that,  was  for  the  moment  choked  from  having  looked 
perforce,  straight  down  the  kitchen  chimney  ;  but  these 
two  stages  over,  there  were  things  to  gaze  at  from  the  top  of 
Todgers's,  well  worth  your  seeing  to.  For  first  and  fore- 
most, if  the  day  were   bright,  you  observed  upon  the  house- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  139 

tops,  stretching  far  away,  a  long  dark  path — the  shadow  of 
the  monument — and  turning  round,  the  tall  original  was  close 
beside  you,  with  every  hair  erect,  upon  his  golden  head,  as  if 
the  doings  of  the  city  frightened  him.  Then  there  were 
steeples,  towers,  belfries,  shining  vanes,  and  masts  of  ships — 
a  very  forest.  Gables,  housetops,  garret-windows,  wilderness 
upon  wilderness.  Smoke  and  noise  enough  for  all  the  world 
at  once. 

After  the  first  glance,  there  were  slight  features  in  the 
midst  of  this  crowd  of  objects,  which  sprung  out  from  the 
mass  without  any  reason,  as  it  were,  and  took  hold  of  the 
attention  whether  the  spectator  would  or  no.  Thus  the  re- 
volving chimney-pots  on  one  great  stack  of  buildings,  seemed 
to  be  turning  gravely  to  each  other  every  now  and  then,  and 
whispering  the  result  of  their  separate  observation  of  what 
was  going  on  below.  Others,  of  a  crook-backed  shape,  ap- 
peared to  be  maliciously  holding  themselves  askew,  that  they 
might  shut  the  prospect  out  and  baffle  Todgers's.  The  man 
who  was  mending  a  pen  at  an  upper  window  over  the  way, 
became  of  paramount  importance  in  the  scene,  and  made  a 
blank  in  it,  ridiculously  disproportionate  in  its  extent,  when 
he  retired.  The  gambols  of  a  piece  of  cloth  upon  the  dyer's 
pole  had  far  more  interest  for  the  moment  than  all  the  chang- 
ing motion  of  the  crowd.  Yet  even  while  the  looker-on  felt 
angry  with  himself  for  this,  and  wondered  how  it  was,  the 
tumult  swelled  into  a  roar  ;  the  hosts  of  objects  seemed  to 
thicken  and  expand  a  hundred-fold  ;  and  after  gazing  round 
him  quite  scared,  he  turned  into  Todgers's  again,  much  more 
rapidly  than  he  came  out  ;  and  ten  to  one  he  told  M. 
Todgers  afterward  that  if  he  hadn't  done  so,  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  come  into  the  street  by  the  shortest  cut — that  is 
to  say,  headforemost. 

So  said  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  when  they  retired  with 
Mrs.  Todgers  from  this  place  of  espial,  leaving  the  youthful 
porter  to  close  the  door  and  follow  them  down-stairs  ;  who 
being  of  a  playful  temperament,  and  contemplating  with  a 
delight  peculiar  to  his  sex  and  time  of  life,  any  chance  of 
dashing  himself  into  small  fragments,  lingered  behind  to 
walk  upon  the  parapet. 

It  being  the  second  day  of  their  stay  in  London,  the  Miss 
Pecksniffs  and  Mrs.  Todgers  were  by  this  time  highly  confi- 
dential, insomuch  that  the  last-named  lady  had  already  com- 
municated the  particulars  of  three  early  disappointments  of  a 
tender  nature,  and  had  furthermore  possessed  her  young 


I40  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

friends  with  a  general  summary  of  the  life,  conduct  and 
character  of  Mr.  Tcdgers.  Who,  it  seemed,  had  cut  his 
matrimonial  career  rather  short,  by  unlawfully  running  away 
from  his  happiness,  and  establishing  himself  in  foreign  coun- 
tries as  a  bachelor. 

"  Your  pa  was  once  a  little  particular  in  his  attentions,  my 
dears,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  ;  *'but  to  be  your  ma  was  too 
much  happiness  denied  me.  You'd  hardly  know  who  this 
was  done  for,  perhaps  ?  " 

She  called  their  attention  to  an  oval  miniature,  like  a  little 
blister,  which  was  tacked  up  over  the  kettle-holder,  and  in 
which  there  was  a  dreamy  shadowing  forth  of  her  own 
visage. 

*'  it's  a  speaking  likeness  !  "  cried  the  two  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs. 

''  It  was  considered  so  once,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  warming 
herself  in  a  gentlemanly  manner  at  the  fire  ;  "  but  I  hardly 
thought  you  would  have  known  it,  my  loves." 

They  would  have  known  it  anywhere.  If  they  could  have 
met  with  it  in  the  street,  or  seen  it  in  a  shop  window,  they 
would  have  cried  :  "  Good  gracious  !     Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

'*  Presiding  over  an  establishment  like  this,  makes  sad 
havoc  with  the  features,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers.  "  The  gravy  alone,  is  enough  to  add  twenty  years 
to  one's  age,  I  do  assure  you." 

''  Lor  !  "  cried  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

*'The  anxiety  of  that  one  item,  my  dears,"  said  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers, "  keeps  the  mind  continually  upon  the  stretch.  There 
is  no  such  passion  in  human  nature,  as  the  passion  for  gravy 
among  commercial  gentlemen.  It's  nothing  to  say  a  joint 
won't  yield — a  whole  animal  won't  yield — the  amount  of 
gravy  they  expect  each  day  at  dinner.  And  what  I  have 
undergone  in  consequence,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  raising  her 
eyes  and  shaking  her  head,  *'  no  one  would  believe  !  " 

''  Just  like  Mr.  Pinch,  Merry  !  "  said  Charity.  "  We  have 
always  noticed  it  in  him,  you  remember  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  my  dear,"  giggled  Merry,  "but  we  have  never  given 
it  him,  you  know." 

"  You,  my  dears,  having  to  deal  with  your  pa's  pupils  who 
can't  help  themselves,  are  able  to  take  your  own  way,"  said 
Mrs.  Todgers,  "  but  in  a  commercial  establishment,  where 
any  gentleman  may  say,  any  Saturday  evening,  '  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers, this  day  week  we  part,  in  consecjuence  of  the  cheese,' 
it  is  not  so  easy  to  preserve  a  pleasant  understanding.    Your 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  141 

pa  was  kind  enough,"  added  the  good  lady,  "  to  invite  me 
to  take  a  ride  with  you  to-day;  and  I  think  he  mentioned 
that  you  were  going  to  call  upon  Miss  Pinch.  Any  relation 
to  the  gentleman  you  were  speaking  of  just  now,  Miss  Peck- 
sniff ? " 

*'  For  goodness  sake,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  interposed  the  lively 
Merry,  "  don't  call  him  a  gentleman.  My  dear  Cherry, 
Pinch  a  gentleman  !     The  idea." 

"What  a  wicked  girl  you  are  !"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers, 
embracing  her  with  great  affection.  "  Vou  are  quite  a  quiz  I 
do  declare  !  My  dear  Tsliss  Pecksniff,  what  a  happiness  your 
sister's  spirits  must  be  to  your  pa  and  self  !  " 

*'  He's  the  most  hideous,  goggle-eyed  creature,  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers, in  existence,"  resumed  Merry  ;  "quite  an  ogre.  The 
ugliest,  awkwardest,  frightfulest  being,  you  can  imagine. 
This  his  sister,  so  I  leave  you  to  suppose  what  she  is.  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  laugh  outright,  I  know  I  shall  !  "  cried 
the  charming  girl,  "  I  never  shall  be  able  to  keep  my  coun- 
tenance. The  notion  of  a  Miss  Pinch  presuming  to  exist  at 
all  is  sufficient  to  kill  one,  but  to  see  her — oh  my  stars  !  " 

Mrs.  Todgers  laughed  immensely  at  the  dear  love's  humor, 
and  declared  she  was  quite  afraid  of  her,  that  she  was.  She 
was  so  very  severe. 

"  Who  is  severe  ?  "  cried  a  voice  at  the  door.  "  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  severity  in  our  family,  I  hope  !  "  And  then 
Mr.  Pecksniff  peeped  smilingly  into  the  room,  and  said  "  May 
I  come  in,  Mrs.  Todgers  ?  " 

Mrs.  Todgers  almost  screamed,  for  the  little  door  of  com- 
munication between  that  room  and  the  inner  one  being  wide 
open,  there  was  a  full  disclosure  of  the  sofa  bedstead  in  all 
its  monstrous  impropriety.  But  she  had  the  presence  of 
mind  to  close  this  portal  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ;  and 
having  done  so,  said,  though  not  without  confusion,  "  Oh 
yes,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  you  can  come  in,  if  you  please." 

"  How  are  we  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  jocosely ; 
"  and  what  are  our  plans  ?  Are  we  ready  to  go  and 
see  Tom  Pinch's  sister  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Poor  Thomas 
Pinch  !  " 

"  Are  we  ready,"  returned  Mrs,  Todgers  nodding  her 
head  with  mysterious  intelligence,  "  to  send  a  favorable  reply 
to  Mr.  Jinkins's  round-robin  ?  That's  the  first  question,  Mr. 
Pecksniff." 

"  Why  Mr.  Jinkins's  robin,  my  dear  madam  ?  "asked  Mr. 
Pecksniff,    putting   one  arm  round  Mercy,  and  the  other 


142  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

round  Mrs.  Todgers,  whom  he  seemed,  in  the  abstraction  of 
the  moment,  to  mistake  for  Charity.     "  Why  Mr.  Jinkins's  ?" 

"  Because  he  began  to  get  it  up,  and  indeed  always  takes 
the  lead  in  the  house,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  playfully.  '*  That's 
why,  sir." 

''  Jinkins  is  a  man  of  superior  talent,"  observed  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  "  I  have  conceived  a  great  regard  for  Jinkins.  I 
take  Jinkins's  desire  to  pay  polite  attention  to  my  daughters 
as  an  additional  proof  of  the  friendly  feelings  of  Jinkins,  Mrs. 
Todgers." 

"  Well  now,"  returned  that  lady,  "  having  said  so  much, 
you  must  say  the  rest,  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  so  tell  the  dear  young 
ladies  all  about  it." 

With  these  words,  she  gently  eluded  Mr.  Pecksniff's  grasp, 
and  took  Miss  Charity  into  her  own  embrace;  though  whether 
she  was  impelled  to  this  proceeding  solely  by  the  irrepressible 
affection  she  had  conceived  for  that  young  lady,  or  whether 
it  had  any  reference  to  a  lowering,  not  to  say  distinctly  spite- 
ful expression  which  had  been  visible  in  her  face  for  some 
moments,  has  never  been  exactly  ascertained.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  Mr.  Pecksniff  went  on  to  inform  his  daughters  of  the 
purport  and  history  of  the  round-robin  aforesaid,  which  was 
in  brief,  that  the  commercial  gentlemen  who  helped  to  make 
up  the  sum  and  substance  of  that  noun  of  multitude  signify- 
ing many,  called  Todgers's,  desired  the  honor  of  their  pres- 
ence at  the  general  table,  so  long  as  they  remained  in  the 
house,  and  besought  that  they  would  grace  the  board  at  dinner 
time,  next  day,  the  same  being  Sunday.  He  further  said, 
that  Mrs.  Todgers  being  a  consenting  party  to  this  invitation 
he  was  willing,  for  his  part,  to  accept  it  ;  and  so  left  them 
that  he  might  write  his  gracious  answer,  the  while  they 
armed  themselves  with  their  best  bonnets  for  the  utter  defeat 
and  overthrow  of  Miss  Pinch. 

Tom  Pinch's  sister  was  governess  in  a  family,  a  lofty 
family  ;  perhaps  the  wealthiest  brass  and  copper  founders' 
family  known  to  mankind.  They  lived  at  Camberwell  ;  in 
a  house  so  big  and  fierce,  that  its  mere  outside,  like  the  out- 
side of  a  giant's  castle,  struck  terror  into  vulgar  minds  and 
made  bold  persons  quail.  There  was  a  great  front  gate  ; 
with  a  great  bell,  whose  handle  was  in  itself  a  note  of  admir- 
ation ;  and  a  great  lodge  ;  which  being  close  to  the  house, 
rather  spoiled  the  lookout  certainly,  but  made  the  look-in  tre- 
mendous. At  this  entry  a  great  porter  kej)t  constant  watch 
Ornd  ward  ;  and  when  he  gave  the  visitor  high  leave  to  pass, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  143 

he  rang  a  second  great  bell,  responsive  to  whose  notes  a  great 
footman  appeared  in  due  time  at  the  great  hall  door,  with 
such  great  tags  upon  his  liveried  shoulder  that  he  was  per- 
petually entangling  and  hooking  himself  among  the  chairs  and 
tables,  and  led  a  life  of  torment  which  could  scarcely  have 
been  surpassed,  if  he  had  been  a  blue-bottle  in  a  world  of 
cobwebs. 

To  this  mansion,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  accompmied  by  his 
daughters  and  Mrs.  Todger,  drove  gallantly  i  a  one-horse 
fly.  The  foregoing  ceremonies  having  been  all  performed, 
they  were  ushered  into  the  house  ;  and  so,  by  degrees,  they 
got  at  last  into  a  small  room  with  books  in  it,  where  Mr. 
Pinch's  sister  was  at  that  moment  instructing  her  eldest 
pupil  ;  to  wit,  a  premature  little  woman  of  thirteen  years  old, 
who  had  already  arrived  at  such  a  pitch  of  whalebone  and 
education  that  she  had  nothing  girlish  about  her,  which  was 
a  source  of  great  rejoicing  to  all  her  relations  and  friends. 

•  **  Visitors  for  Miss  Pinch  !  "  said  the  footman.  He  must 
have  been  an  ingenious  young  man,  for  he  said  it  very 
cleverly,  with  a  nice  discrimination  between  the  cold  respect 
with  which.Jie  would  have  announced  visitors  to  the  family, 
and  the  warm  personal  interest  with  which  he  would  have 
announced  visitors  to  the  cook. 

"  Visitors  for  Miss  Pinch  !  " 

Miss  Pinch  rose  hastily,  with  such  tokens  of  agitation  as 
plainly  declared  that  her  list  of  callers  was  not  numerous. 
At  the  same  time,  the  little  pupil  became  alarmingly  upright 
and  prepared  herself  to  take  mental  notes  of  all  that  might 
be  said  and  done.  For  the  lady  of  the  establishment  was 
curious  in  the  natural  history  and  habits  of  the  animal 
called  governess,  and  encouraged  her  daughters  to  report 
thereon  whenever  occasion  served  ;  which  was,  in  reference 
to  all  parties  concerned,  very  laudable,  improving,  and 
pleasant. 

It  is  a  melancholy  fact  ;  but  it  must  be  related,  that  Mr. 
Pinch's  sister  was  not  at  all  ugly.  On  the  contrary,  she  had 
a  good  face,  a  very  mild  and  prepossessing  face,  and  a 
pretty  little  figure — slight  and  short,  but  remarkable  for  its 
neatness.  There  was  something  of  her  brother,  much  of  him 
indeed,  in  a  certain  gentleness  of  manner,  and  in  her  look  of 
timid  trustfulness  ;  but  she  was  so  far  from  being  a  fright,  or 
a  dowdy,  or  a  horror,  or  any  thing  else,  predicted  by  the  two 
Miss  Pecksniffs,  that  those  young  ladies  naturally  regarded 
her  with  great  indignation,  feeling  that  this  was  by  no  means 
what  they  had  come  to  see. 


144  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

Miss  Mercy,  as  having  the  larger  share  of  gayety,  bore  up 
the  best  against  this  disappointment,  and  carried  it  off,  in 
outward  show  at  least,  with  a  titter  ;  but  her  sister  not  caring 
to  hide  her  disdain,  expressed  it  pretty  openly  in  her  looks. 
As  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  she  leaned  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's  arm  and 
preserved  a  kind  of  genteel  grimness,  suitable  to  any  state  of 
mind,  and  involving  any  shade  of  opinion. 

*'  Don't  be  alarmed,  Miss  Pinch,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
taking  her  hand  condescendingly  in  one  of  his,  and  patting  it 
with  the  other.  "  I  have  called  to  see  you,  in  pursuance  of  a 
promise  given  to  your  brother,  Thomas  Pinch.  My  name — 
compose  yourself,  Miss  Pinch — is  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  emphasized  these  words  as  though  he 
would  have  said,  ''  You  see  in  me,  young  person,  the  bene- 
factor of  your  race  ;  the  patron  of  your  house  ;  the  preserver 
of  your  brother,  who  is  fed  with  manna  daily  from  my  table; 
and  in  right  of  whom  there  is  a  considerable  balance  in  niy 
favor  at  present  standing  in  books  beyond  the  sky.  But 
I  have  no  pride,  for  I  can  afford  to  do  without  it !  " 

The  poor  girl  felt  it  all  as  if  it  had  been  Gospel  truth. 
Her  brother  writing  in  the  fullness  of  his  simple  heart,  had 
often  told  her  so,  and  how  much  more  !  As  Mr.  Pecksniff 
ceased  to  speak,  she  hung  her  head,  and  dropped  a  tear  upon 
his  hand. 

**  Oh  very  well,  Miss  Pinch  !  "  thought  the  sharp  pui)il, 
"  crying  before  strangers,  as  if  you  didn't  like  the  situa- 
tion !  " 

"Thomas  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff;  "and  sends  his 
love  and  this  letter.  I  can  not  say,  poor  fellow,  that  he  will 
ever  be  distinguished  in  our  profession  ;  but  he  has  the  will 
to  do  well,  which  is  the  next  thing  to  having  the  power  ; 
and,  therefore,  we  must  bear  with  him.     Eh  ?  " 

"  I  know  he  has  the  will,  sir,"  said  Tom  Pinch's  sister, 
"  and  I  know  how  kindly  and  considerately  you  cherish  it, 
for  which  neither  he  nor  I  can  ever  be  grateful  enough,  as 
we  very  often  say  in  writing  to  each  other.  The  young 
ladies  too,"  she  added,  glancing  gratefully  at  his  two 
daughters,  "  I  know  how  much  we  owe  to  them," 

"  My  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  to  them  with  a 
smile  ;  "  Thomas's  sister  is  saying  something  you  will  be 
glad  to  hear,  I  think." 

"  We  can't  take  any  merit  to  ourselves,  paj)a  !  "  cried 
Cherry,  as  they  both  apj)rised  Tom  Pinch's  sister,  with  a 
courtesy,  that  they  would  feel  obliged  if  she  would  keep  her 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  145 

distance.  "  Mr.  Pinch's  being  so  well  provided  for  is  owing 
to  you  alone,  and  we  can  only  say  how  glad  we  are  to  hear 
that  he  is  as  grateful  as  he  ought  to  be." 

"  Oh  very  well,  Miss   Pinch  !  "  thought  the   pupil  again 
"  Got  a  grateful  brother,  living  on  other  people's  kindness  I  " 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Tom  Pinch's  sister 
with  Tom's  own  simplicity,  and  Tom's  own  smile,  "  to  come 
here  ;  very  kind  indeed  ;  though  how  great  a  kindness  you 
have  done  me  in  gratifying  my  wish  to  see  you,  and  to  thank 
you  with  my  own  lips,  you,  who  make  so  light  of  benefits 
conferred,  can  scarcely  think." 

"  Very  grateful  ;  very  pleasant  ;  very  proper,"  murmured 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  It  makes  me  happy  too,"  said  Ruth  Pinch,  who  now 
that  her  first  surprise  was  over,  had  a  chatty,  cheerful  way 
with  her,  and  a  single-hearted  desire  to  look  upon  the  best 
side  of  every  thing,  which  was  the  very  moral  and  image  of 
Tom  ;  '^  very  happy  to  think  that  you  will  be  able  to  tell 
him  how  more  than  comfortably  I  am  situated  here,  and  how 
unnecessary  it  is  that  he  should  ever  waste  a  regret  on  my 
being  cast  upon  my  own  resources.  Dear  me  !  So  long  as 
I  heard  that  he  was  happy,  and  he  heard  that  I  was,"  said 
Tom's  sister,  "  we  could  both  bear,  without  one  impatient 
or  complaining  thought,  a  great  deal  more  than  ever  we  have 
had  to  endure,  I  am  very  certain."  And  if  ever  the  plain 
truch  were  spoken  on  this  occasionally  false  earth,  Tom's 
sister  spoke  it  when  she  said  that. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  whose  eyes  had  in  the  mean- 
time wandered  to  the  pupil  ;  "certainly.  And  how  doj'<?// 
do,  my  very  interesting  child  ?  " 

*^  Quite  well.  I  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  frosty  innocent. 

''A  sweet  face  this,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning 
to  his  daughters.     "  A  charming  manner  !  " 

Both  young  ladies  had  been  m  ecstasies  with  the  scion  of 
a  wealthy  house  (through  vrhom  the  nearest  road  and  shortest 
cut  to  her  parents  might  be  supposed  to  lie)  from  the  first. 
Mrs.  Todgers  vowed  that  any  thing  one  quarter  so  angelic 
she  had  never  seen.  "  She  wanted  but  a  pair  of  wings,  a 
dear,"  said  the  good  woman,  ^'  to  be  a  young  syrup  ;  " 
meaning,  possibly,  young  sylph,  or  seraph. 

"If  you  will  give  that  to  your  distinguished  parents,  my 
amiable  little  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  producing  one  of 
his  professional  cards,  "  and  will  say  that  I  and  my  daugh- 
ters—" 


146  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

**  And  Mrs.  TodgerG,  pa,"  said  Merry. 

"  And  Mrs.  Todgers,  of  London,"  added  Mr.  Pecksniff  ; 
"  that  I  and  my  daughters,  and  Mrs.  Todgers,  of  London, 
did  not  intrude  upon  them,  as  our  object  simply  was  to  take 
some  notice  of  Miss  Pinch,  whose  brother  is  a  young  man 
in  my  employment  ;  but  that  I  could  not  leave  this  very 
chaste  mansion,  without  adding  my  humble  tribute,  as  an 
architect,  to  the  correctness  and  elegance  of  the  owner's 
taste,  and  to  his  just  appreciation  of  that  beautiful  art  to  the 
cultivation  of  which  I  have  devoted  a  life  and  to  the  pro- 
motion of  whose  glory  and  advancement  I  have  sacrificed  a 
— a  fortune — I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

'*  Missis's  compliments  to  Miss  Pinch,"  said  the  footman, 
suddenly  appearing,  and  speaking  in  exactly  the  same  key 
as  before,  "  and  begs  to  know  wot  my  young  lady  is  a  learn- 
ing of  just  now." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Here  is  the  young  man. 
He  will  take  the  card.  With  my  compliments,  if  you  please, 
young  man.  My  dears,  we  are  interrupting  the  studies. 
Let  us  go." 

Some  confusion  was  occasioned  for  an  instant  by  Mrs. 
Todgers's  unstrapping  her  little  fiat  hand-basket,and  hurriedly 
intrusting  the  "  young  man  "  with  one  of  her  own  cards,which, 
in  addition  to  certain  detailed  information  relative  to  the 
terms  of  the  commercial  establishment,  bore  a  foot-note  to 
the  effect  that  M.  T.  took  that  opportunity  of  thanking  those 
gentlemen  who  had  honored  her  with  their  favors,  and 
begged  they  would  have  the  goodness,  if  satisfied  with  the 
table,  to  recommend  her  to  their  friends.  But  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, with  admirable  presence  of  mind,  recovered  this  docu- 
ment, and  buttoned  it  up  in  his  own  pocket. 

Then  he  said  to  Miss  Pinch  ;  witli  more  condescension 
and  kindness  than  ever,  for  it  was  desirable  the  footman 
should  expressly  understand  that  they  were  not  friends  of 
iiers,  but  patrons  : 

"  Good-morning.  Good-by.  God  bless  you  !  Vou  may 
depend  upon  my  continued  protection  of  your  brother 
Thomas.     Keep  your  mind  quite  at  ease,  Miss  Pinch  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom's  sister  heartily  ;  "  a  thousand 
times." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  retorted,  patting  her  gently  on  the  head. 
''  Don't  mention  it.  You  will  make  me  angry  if  you  do.  My 
sweet  child,"  to  the  pupil,  "  farewell  !  That  fairy  creature," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  in  his  pensive  mood  hard  at  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  147 

footman,  as  if  he  meant  him,  "  has  shed  a  vision  on  my  path, 
refulgent  in  its  nature,  and  not  easily  to  be  obliterated.  My 
dears,  are  you  ready  ?  " 

They  were  not  quite  ready  yet,  for  they  were  still  caressing 
the  pupil.  But  they  tore  themselves  away  at  length  ;  and 
sweeping  past  Miss  Pinch  with  each  a  haughty  inclination  of 
the  head  and  a  courtesy  strangled  in  its  birth,  flounced  in'o 
the  passage. 

The  young  man  had  rather  a  long  job  in  showing  them 
out  ;  for  Mr.  Pecksniff's  delight  in  the  tastefulness  of  the 
house  was  such  that  he  could  not  help  often  stopping  (par- 
ticularly when  they  were  near  the. parlor  door)  and  giving  it 
expression,  in  a  loud  voice  and  very  learned  terms.  Indeed, 
he  delivered  between  the  study  and  the  hall,  a  familiar  expo- 
sition of  the  whole  science  of  architecture  as  applied  to 
dwelling-houses,  and  was  yet  in  the  freshness  of  his  elo- 
quence when  they  reached  the  garden. 

"  If  you  look,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  backing  from  the  steps 
with  his  head  on  one  side  and  his  eyes  half-shut  that  he 
might  the  better  take  in  the  proportions  of  the  exterior — "  if 
you  look,  my  dears,  at  the  cornice  which  supports  the  roof, 
and  observe  the  airiness  of  its  construction,  especially  where 
it  sweeps  the  southern  angle  of  the  building,  you  will  feel 
with  me — How  do  you  do,  sir  ?     I  hope  you're  well  ?  " 

Interrupting  himself  with  these  words,  he  very  politely 
bowed  to  a  middle-aged  gentleman  at  an  upper  window,  to 
whom  he  spoke,  not  because  the  gentleman  could  hear  him, 
(for  he  certainly  could  not),  but  as  an  appropriate  accompani- 
ment to  his  salutation. 

*'  I  have  no  doubt,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  feigning 
to  point  out  other  beauties  v/ith  his  hand,  "that  this  is  the 
proprietor.  I  should  be  glad  to  know  him.  It  might  lead 
to  something.     Is  he  looking  this  way,  Charity  ?  " 

"  He  is  opening  the  window,  pa  !  " 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  softly.  "  All  right  !  He 
has  found  I'm  professional.  He  heard  me  inside  just  now,  I 
have  no  doubt.  Don't  look  !  With  regard  to  the  fluted  pil- 
lars in  the  portico,  my  dears — " 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  the  gentleman. 

"  Sir,  your  servant  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  off  his 
hat.     "  I  am  proud  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"  Come  off  the  grass,  will  you  !  "  roared  the  gentleman. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  doubtful  of 
his  having  heard  ariglit.     '^  Did  you — ?  " 


148  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Come  off  the  grass  !  "  repeated  the  gentleman,  warmly, 

"  We  are  unwilling  to  intrude,  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  smilingly 
began. 

*'  But  you  are  intruding,"  returned  the  other,  "  unwar- 
rantably intruding.  Trespassing.  You  see  a  gravel  walk, 
don't  you  ?  What  do  you  think  it's  meant  for  ?  Open  the 
gate  there  ?     Show  that  party  out  !  " 

With  that  he  clapped  down  the  window  again,  and  disap- 
peared. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  put  on  his  hat,  and  walked  with  great  delib- 
eration and  in  profound  silence  to  the  fly,  gazing  at  the 
clouds  as  he  went,  with  great  interest.  After  helping  his 
daughters  and  Mrs.  Todgers  into  that  conveyance,  he  stood 
looking  at  it  for  some  moments,  as  if  he  were  not  quite  cer- 
tain whether  it  was  a  carriage  or  a  temple  ;  but,  having  set- 
tled this  point  in  his  mind,  he  got  into  his  place,  spread  his 
hands  out  on  his  knees,  and  smiled  upon  the  three  behold- 
ers. 

But  his  daughters,  less  tranquil-minded,  burst  into  a  tor- 
rent of  indignation.  This  came,  they  said,  of  cherishing  such 
creatures  as  the  Pinches.  This  came  of  lowering  themselves 
to  their  level.  This  came  of  putting  themselves  in  the  hu- 
miliating position  of  seeming  to  know  such  bold,  audacious, 
cunning,  dreadful  girls  as  that.  They  had  expected  this. 
They  had  predicted  it  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  as  she  (Todgers) 
could  depone,  that  very  morning.  To.  this,  they  added  that 
the  owner  of  the  house,  supposing  them  to  be  Miss  Pinch's 
friends,  had  acted,  in  their  opinion,  quite  correctly,  and  had 
done  no  more  than,  under  such  circumstances,  might  reason- 
ably have  been  expected.  To  that  they  added  (with  a  trifling 
inconsistency),  that  he  was  a  brute  and  a  bear  ;  and  then 
they  merged  into  a  flood  of  tears,  which  swept  away  all 
wandering  epithets  before  it. 

Perhaps  Miss  Pinch  was  scarcely  so  much  to  blame  in  the 
matter  as  the  seraph,  who,  immediately  on  the  withdrav/al 
of  the  visitors,  had  hastened  to  report  them  at  head  quarters. 
with  a  full  account  of  their  having  presumptuously  charged 
her  with  the  delivery  of  a  message  afterward  consigned  to 
the  footman  ;  which  outrage,  taken  in  conjunction  with  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  unobtrusive  remarks  on  the  establishment,  might 
possibly  have  had  some  share  in  their  dismissal.  Poor  Miss 
Pinch,  however,  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it  with  both  parties  ; 
being  so  severely  taken  to  task  by  the  seraph's  mother  for 
having  such  vulgar  acquaintances,  that  she  was  fain  to  retire 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  149 

to  her  own  room  in  tears,  which  her  natural  cheerfulness 
and  submission,  and  the  delight  of  having  seen  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, and  having  received  a  letter  from  her  brother,  were  at 
first  insufficient  to  repress. 

As  to  Mr.  Pecksiiiff,  he  told  them  in  the  fly,  that  a  good 
action  was  its  own  reward  ;  and  rather  gave  them  to  under- 
stand, that  if  he  could  have  been  kicked  in  such  a  cause,  he 
would  have  liked  it  all  the  better.  But  this  was  no  comfort 
to  the  young  ladies,  who  scolded  violently  the  whole  way  back, 
and  even  exhibited,  more  than  once,  a  keen  desire  to  attack 
the  devoted  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  whose  personal  appearance,  but 
particularly  on  whose  offending  card  and  hand-basket,  they 
were  secretly  inclined  to  lay  the  blame  of  half  their  failure. 

Todgers' s  was  in  a  great  bustle  that  evening,  partly  owing 
to  some  additional  domestic  preparations  for  the  morrow, 
and  partly  to  the  excitement  always  inseparable  in  that  house 
from  Saturday  night,  when  every  gentleman's  linen  arrived 
at  a  different  hour  in  its  own  little  bundle,  with  his  private 
account  pinned  on  the  outside.  There  was  always  a  great 
clinking  of  pattens  down  stairs,  too,  until  midnight,  or  so,  on 
Saturdays  ;  together  with  a  frequent  gleaming  of  mysterious 
lights  in  the  area,  much  working  at  the  pump,  and  a  constant 
jangling  of  the  iron  handle  of  the  pail.  Shrill  altercations 
from  time  to  time  arose  between  Mrs.  Todgers  and  unknown 
females  in  remote  back  kitchens  ;  and  sounds  were  occasion- 
ally heard,  indicative  of  small  articles  of  ironmongery  and 
hardware  being  thrown  at  the  boy.  It  was  the  custom  of 
that  youth  on  Saturdays,  to  roll  up  his  shirt  sleeves  to  his 
shoulders,  and  pervade  all  parts  of  the  house  in  an  apron  of 
coarse  green  baize  ;  moreover,  he  was  more  strongly  tempted 
on  Saturdays  than  on  other  days  (it  being  a  busy  time),  to 
make  excursive  bolts  into  the  neighboring  alleys  when  he 
answered  the  door,  and  there  to  play  at  leap-frog  and  other 
sports  with  vagrant  lads,  until  pursued  and  brought  back  by 
the  hair  of  the  head,  or  the  lobe  of  his  ear  ;  thus,  he  was 
quite  a  conspicuous  feature  among  the  peculiar  incidents  of 
the  last  day  in  the  week  at  Todgers's. 

He  was  especially  so  on  this  particular  Saturday  evening, 
and  honored  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  w^ith  a  deal  of  notice  ; 
seldom  passing  the  door  of  Mrs.  Todgers's  private  room, 
where  they  sat  alone  before  the  fire,  working  by  the  light  of 
a  solitary  candle,  without  putting  in  his  head  and  greeting 
them  with  some  such  compliments  as,  "  There  you  are  agin  !  " 
"  Ain't  it  nice  ?"  and  similar  humorous  attentions. 


I50  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

**  I  say,"  he  whispered,  stopping  in  one  of  his  journeys  to 
and  fro,  "young  ladies,  there's  soup  to-morrow.  She's  a 
making  it  now.  Ain't  she  a  putting  in  the  water  ?  Oh  !  not 
at  all  neither  !  " 

In  the  course  of  answering  another  knock,  he  thrust  in 
his  head  again. 

"  I  say  !  There's  fowls  to-morrow.  Not  skinny  ones.  Oh 
no  !  " 

Presently  he  called  through  the  key-hole  : 

"  There's  a  fish  to-morrow.  Just  come.  Don't  eat  none 
of  him  ! "  And,  with  this  spectral   warning,   vanished  again. 

By  and  by,  he  returned  to  lay  the  cloth  for  supper,  it 
having  been  arranged  between  Mrs,  Todgers  and  the  young 
ladies,  that  they  should  partake  of  an  exclusive  veal-cutlet  to- 
gether in  the  privacy  of  that  apartment.  He  entertained  them 
on  this  occasion  by  thrusting  the  lighted  candle  into  his  mouth, 
and  exhibiting  his  face  in  a  state  of  transparency  ;  after  the 
performance  of  which  feat,  he  went  on  with  liis  professional 
duties,  brightening  every  knife  as  he  laid  it  on  the  table,  by 
breathing  on  the  blade  and  afterward  polishing  the  same  on 
the  apron  already  mentioned.  When  he  had  completed  his 
preparations,  he  grinned  at  the  sisters,  and  expressed  his 
belief  that  the  approaching  collation  would  be  of  ''  rather  a 
spicy  sort." 

*'  Will  it  be  long  before  it's  ready,  Bailey  ? "  asked 
Mercy. 

"  No,"  said  Bailey,  "  it  is  cooked.  When  I  come  up,  she 
was  dodging  among  the  tender  pieces  with  a  fork,  and  eating 
of  'em." 

But  he  had  scarcely  achieved  the  utterance  of  these  words, 
when  he  received  a  manual  compliment  on  the  head,  which 
sent  him  staggering  against  the  wall  ;  and  Mrs.  Todgers, 
dish  in  hand,  stood  indignantly   before  him. 

''  Oh  you  little  villain  !  "  said  that  ladv.  "  Oh  you  bad, 
false  boy!"  [ 

"  No  worse  than  yerself,"  retorted  Bailey,  guarding  his 
head  on  a  principle  invented  by  Mr.  Thomas  Cribb.  "Ah  ! 
Come  now  !     Do  that  agin,  will  yer  ?  " 

"  He's  the  most  dreadful  child,"  said  Mrs,  Todgers,  set- 
ting down  the  dish,  "  I  ever  had  to  deal  with.  The  gentle- 
men spoil  him  to  that  extent,  and  teach  him  such  things, 
that  I'm  afraid  nothing  but  hanging  will  ever  do  him  any 
good." 

"  Won't  it  !  "  cried   Bailey.     "  Oh  !     Yes  !     Wot   do  you 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  151 

go  a  lowerin'  the  table-beer  for  then,  and  destroying  my 
constitooshun  ? " 

"  Go  down-3tairs,  you  vicious  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
holding  the  door  open.     "  Do  you  hear  me  ?     Go  along  !  " 

After  two  or  three  dexterous  feints,  he  went,  and  was  seen 
no  more  that  night,  save  once,  when  he  brought  up  some 
tumblers  and  hot  water,  and  much  disturbed  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs  by  squinting  hideously  behind  the  back  of  the 
unconscious  Mrs.  Todgers.  Having  done  this  justice  to  his 
wounded  feelings,  he  retired  underground,  where  in  com- 
pany with  a  swarm  of  black  beetles  and  a  kitchen  candle,  he 
employed  his  faculties  in  cleaning  boots  and  brushing  clothes 
until  the  night  was  far  advanced. 

Benjamin  was  supposed  to  be  the  real  name  of  this  young 
retainer,  but  he  was  known  by  a  great  variety  of  names. 
Benjamin,  for  instance,  had  been  converted  into  Uncle  Ben, 
and  that  had  been  corrupted  into  Uncle  ;  which,  by  an  easy 
transition,  had  again  passed  into  Barnwell,  in  memory  of  the 
celebrated  relative  in  that  degree  who  was  shot  by  his  nephew 
George,  while  meditating  in  his  garden  at  Camberwell.  The 
gentlemen  at  Todgers's  had  a  merry  habit,  too,  of  bestowing 
upon  him,  for  the  time  being,  the  name  of  any  notorious  male- 
factor or  minister  ;  and  sometimes  when  current  events  were 
flat,  they  even  sought  the  pages  of  history  for  these  distinctions  *, 
as  Mr  Pitt,  Young  Brownrigg,  and  the  like.  At  the  period 
of  which  we  write,  he  was  generally  known  among  the  gentle- 
men as  Bailey  junior  ;  a  name  bestowed  upon  him  in  con- 
tradistinction, perhaps,  to  old  Bailey  ;  and  possibly  as  involv- 
ing the  recollection  of  an  unfortunate  lady  of  the  same 
name,  Avho  perished  by  her  own  hand  early  in  life,  and  has 
been  immortalized  in  a  ballad. 

The  usual  Sunday  dinner-hour  at  Todgers's  was  two 
o'clock  ;  a  suitable  time  it  was  considered,  for  all  parties  ; 
convenient  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  account  of  the  baker's  ; 
and  convenient  to  the  gentlemen,  with  reference  to  their 
afternoon  engagements.  But  on  the  Sunday  which  was  to 
introduce  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  to  a  full  knowledge  of 
Todgers's  and  its  society,  the  dinner  was  postponed  until 
five,  in  order  that  every  thing  might  be  as  genteel  as  the 
occasion  demanded. 

When  the  hour  drew  nigh,  Bailey  junior,  testifying  great 
excitement,  appeared  in  a  complete  suit  of  cast-off  clothes 
several  sizes  too  large  for  him,  and  in  particular,  mounted 
a  clean  shirt  of  such  extraordinary  magnitude,   that  one  of 


152  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  gentlemen  (remarkable  for  his  ready  wit)  called  him 
"  collars  "  on  the  spot.  At  about  a  quarter  before  five,  a 
deputation,  consisting  of  Mr.  Jinkins,  and  another  gentle- 
man whose  name  was  Gander,  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mrs. 
Todgers's  room,  and,  being  formally  introduced  to  the  two 
Miss  Pecksniffs  by  their  parent,  who  was  in  waiting,  besought 
the  honor  of  conducting  them  up-stairs. 

The  drawing-room  at  Todgers's  was  out  of  the  common 
style  ;  so  much  so  indeed,  that  you  would  hardly  have  taken 
it  to  be  a  drawing-room,  unless  you  were  told  so  by  some- 
body who  was  in  the  secret.  It  was  floor-clothed  all  over  ; 
and  the  ceiling,  including  a  great  beam  in  the  middle,  was 
papered.  Besides  the  three  little  windows  with  seats  in 
them,  commanding  the  opposite  archway,  there  was  another 
window  looking  point-blank,  without  any  compromise  at  all 
about  it,  into  Jinkins's  bed-room  ;  and  high  up,  all  along 
one  side  of  the  wall,  was  a  strip  of  panes  of  glass,  two-deep, 
giving  light  to  the  staircase.  There  were  the  oddest  closets 
possible,  with  little  casements  in  them,  like  eight-day 
clocks,  lurking  in  the  wainscot  and  taking  the  shape  of 
the  stairs  ;  and  the  very  door  itself  (which  was  painted 
black)  had  two  great  glass  eyes  in  its  forehead  with  an 
inquisitive  green  pupil  in  the  middle  of  each. 

Here,  the  gentlemen  were  all  assembled.  There  was  a 
general  cry  of  *^  Hear,  hear!  "  and  ''  Bravo  Jink!  "  when 
Mr.  Jinkins  appeared  with  Charity  on  his  arm;  which 
became  quite  rapturous  as  Mr.  Gander  followed,  escorting 
Mercy,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  brought  up  the  rear  with  Mrs. 
Todgers. 

Then,  the  presentations  took  place.  They  included  a 
gentleman  of  a  sporting  turn,  who  propounded  questions  on 
jockey  subjects  to  the  editors  of  Sunday  papers,  which  were 
regarded  by  his  friends  as  rather  stiff  things  to  answer;  and 
they  included  a  gentleman  of  a  theatrical  turn,  who  had  once 
entertained  serious  thoughts  of  *'  coming  out,"  but  had  been 
kept  in  by  the  wickedness  of  human  nature;  and  they 
included  a  gentleman  of  a  debating  turn,  who  was  strong  at 
speech-making;  and  a  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn,  who 
wrote  squibs  upon  the  rest,  and  knew  the  weak  side  of  every 
body's  character  but  his  own.  There  was  a  gentleman  of  a 
vocal  turn,  and  a  gentleman  of  a  smoking  turn,  and  a  gen- 
tleman of  a  convivial  turn;  some  of  the  gentlemen  had  a 
turn  for  whist,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the  gentlemen  had 
a  strong  turn  for  billiards  and  betting.     They  had  all,  it 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  153 

may  be  presumed,  a  turn  for  business;  being  all  commer- 
cially employed  in  one  way  or  other;  and  had,  every  one 
in  his  own  v\'ay,  a  decided  turn  for  pleasure  to  boot.  Mr. 
Jinkins  was  of  a  fashionable  turn;  being  a  regular  fre- 
(juenter  of  the  parks  on  Sundays,  and  knowing  a  great  many 
carriages  by  sight.  He  spoke  mysteriously,  too,  of  splendid 
women,  and  was  suspected  of  having  once  committed  him- 
self with  a  countess.  Mr.  Gander  was  of  a  witty  turn,  being 
indeed  the  gentleman  who  had  originated  the  sally  about 
"collars;"  which  sparkling  pleasantry  was  now  retailed  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  under  the  title  of  Gander's  Last,  and  was 
received  in  all  parts  of  the  room  with  great  applause.  Mr. 
Jinkins,  it  m.ay  be  added,  was  much  the  oldest  of  the  party; 
being  a  fish-salesman's  book-keeper,  aged  forty.  He  was  the 
oldest  boarder,  also;  and,  in  right  of  his  double  seniority, 
took  the  lead  in  the  house,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  had  already 
said. 

There  was  considerable  delay  in  the  production  of  dinner, 
and  poor  Mrs.  Todgers,  being  reproached  in  confidence  by 
Jinkins,  slipped  in  and  out  at  least  twenty  times,  to  see  about 
it;  always  coming  back  as  though  she  had  no  such  thing 
upon  her  mind,  and  hadn't  been  out  at  all;  but  there  was  no 
hitch  in  the  conversation,  nevertheless;  for  one  gentleman, 
who  traveled  in  the  perfumery  line,  exhibited  an  interesting 
nick-nack  in  the  way  of  a  remarkable  cake  of  shaving  soap 
which  he  had  lately  met  wath  in  Germany;  and  the  gentle- 
man of  a  literary  turn  repeated  (by  desire)  some  sarcastic 
stanzas  he  had  recently  produced  on  the  freezing  of  the 
tank  at  the  back  of  the  house.  These  amusements,  with 
the  miscellaneous  conversation  arising  out  of  them,  passed 
the  time  splendidly,  until  dinner  was  announced  by  Bailey 
junior  in  thes-e  terms: 

"The  wittles  is  up!" 

On  which  notice  they  immediately  descended  to  the  ban- 
quet-hall; some  of  the  more  facetious  spirits  in  the  rear  tak- 
ing down  gentlemen  as  if  they  were  ladies,  in  imitation  of 
the  fortunate  possessors  of  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  said  grace;  a  short  and  pious  grace,  invok- 
ing a  blessing  on  the  appetites  of  those  present,  and  commit- 
ting all  persons  who  had  nothing  to  eat  to  the  care  of  provi- 
dence; whose  business  (so  said  the  grace,  in  effect),  it  clearly 
was  to  look  after  them.  This  done,  they  fell  to  with  less 
ceremony  than  appetite,  the  table  groaning  beneath  the 
weight,  not  only  of  the  delicacies  whereof  the  Miss  Peck- 


154  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sniffs  had  been  previously  forewarned,  but  of  boiled  beef, 
roast  veal,  bacon,  pies,  and  abundance  of  such  heavy  vege- 
tables as  are  favorably  known  to  housekeepers  for  their  sat- 
isfying qualities.  Besides  which  there  were  bottles  of  stout, 
bottles  of  wine,  bottles  of  ale,  and  divers  other  strong  drinks, 
native  and  foreign. 

All  this  was  highly  agreeable  to  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs, 
w^ho  were  in  immense  request;  sitting  one  on  either  hand  of 
Mr.  Jinkins  at  the  bottom  of  the  table;  and  who  were  called 
upon  to  take  wine  with  some  new  admirer  every  minute. 
They  had  hardly  ever  felt  so  pleasant,  and  so  full  of  conver- 
sation, in  tliKiir  lives;  Mercy,  in  particular,  was  uncommonly 
brilliant,  and  said  so  many  good  things  in  the  way  of  lively 
repartee  that  she  was  looked  upon  as  a  prodigy.  "  In  short," 
as  that  young  lady  observed,  *'  they  felt  now,  indeed,  that 
they  were  in  London,  and  for  the  first  time,  too." 

Their  young  friend  Bailey  sympathized  in  these  feelings 
to  the  fullest  extent;  and,  abating  nothing  of  his  patronage, 
gave  them  every  encouragement  in  his  power;  favoring  them, 
when  the  general  attention  was  diverted  from  his  proceed- 
ings, with  many  nods  and  winks  and  other  tokens  of  recog- 
nition, and  occasionally  touching  his  nose  with  a  corkscrew, 
as  if  to  express  the  bacchanalian  character  of  the  meeting. 
In  truth,  perhaps  even  the  spirits  of  the  tv>'0  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs, and  the  hungry  watchfulness  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  were 
less  worthy  of  note  than  the  proceedings  of  this  remarkable 
boy,  whom  nothing  disconcerted  or  put  out  of  his  way.  If 
any  piece  of  crockery,  a  dish  or  otherwise,  chanced  to  slip 
through  his  hands  (which  happened  once  or  twice),  he  let  it 
go  with  perfect  good  breeding,  and  never  added  to  the  pain- 
ful emotions  of  the  company  by  exhibiting  the  least  regret. 
Nor  did  he,  by  hurrying  to  and  fro,  disturb  the  repose  of  the 
assembly,  as  many  well-trained  servants  do;  on  the  contrary, 
feeling  the  hopelessness  of  waiting  upon  so  large  a  party,  he 
left  the  gentlemen  to  help  themselves  to  what  they  wanted, 
and  seldom  stirred  from  behind  Mr.  Jinkins's  chair,  where, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  legs  planted  pretty 
wide  apart,  he  led  the  laughter,  and  enjoyed  the  conver- 
sation. 

The  dessert  was  splendid.  No  waiting  either.  The  pud- 
ding-plates had  been  washed  in  a  little  tub  outside  the  door 
while  cheese  was  on,  and  though  they  were  moist  and  warm 
with  friction,  still  there  they  were  ngain,  up  to  the  mark,  and 
true  to  time.     Quarts  of  almonds,  dozens  of  oranges,  pounds 


IviARlIN  CHUZZLKWIT.  155 

of  raisins,  stacks  of  biffins,  soup-plates  full  of  nuts.  Oh, 
Todgers's  could  do  it  when  it  chose  !  Mind  that. 

Then  more  wine  came  on;  red  wines  and  white  wines; 
and  a  large  china  bowl  of  punch,  brewed  by  the  gentleman 
of  a  convivial  turn,  who  adjured  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  not  to  be 
despondent  on  account  of  its  dimensions,  as  there  were  mate- 
rials in  the  house  for  the  concoction  of  half  a  dozen  more  of 
the  same  size.  Good  gracious,  how  they  laughed  !  How 
they  coughed  when  they  sipped  it,  because  it  was  so  strong; 
and  how  they  laughed  again  when  somebody  vowed  that  but 
for  its  color  it  might  have  been  mistaken,  in  regard  of  its 
innocuous  qualities,  for  new  milk  !  What  a  shout  of  "  No  !  " 
burst  from  the  gentlemen  when  they  pathetically  implored 
Mr.  Jinkins  to  suffer  them  to  qualify  it  with  hot  water;  and 
how  blushingly,  by  little  and  little,  did  each  of  them  drink 
her  whole  glassful,  down  to  its  very  dregs  ! 

Now  comes  the  trying  time.  The  sun,  as  Mr.  Jinkins  says 
(gentlemanly  creature,  Jinkins — never  at  a  loss  !),  is  about  to 
leave  the  firmament.  "  Miss  Pecksniff  !  "  says  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers,  softly,  "will  you — ?"  "  Oh  dear,  no  more,  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers."  Mrs.  Todgers  rises;  -the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  rise;  all 
rise.  Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff  looks  downward  for  her  scarf. 
Where  is  it  ?  Dear  me,  where  cati  it  be  ?  Sweet  girl,  she  has 
it  on,  not  on  her  fair  neck,  but  loose  upon  her  flowing  figure. 
A  dozen  hands  assist  her.  She  is  all  confusion.  The  young- 
est gentleman  in  the  company  thirsts  to  murder  Jinkins.  She 
skips  and  joins  her  sister  at  the  door.  Her  sister  has  her 
arm  about  the  waist  of  Mrs.  Todgers.  She  winds  her  arm 
around  her  sister.  Diana,  what  a  picture  !  The  last  things 
visible  are  a  shape  and  a  skip.  *'  Gentlemen,  let  us  drink 
the  ladies  !  " 

The  enthusiasm  is  tremendous.  The  gentleman  of  a 
debating  turn  rises  in  the  midst,  and  suddenly  lets  loose  a 
tide  of  eloquence  which  bears  down  every  thing  before  it. 
He  is  reminded  of  a  toast,  a  toast  to  which  they  will  respond. 
There  is  an  individual  present — he  has  him  in  his  eye — to 
whom  they  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude.  He  repeats  it,  a  debt 
of  gratitude.  Their  rugged  natures  have  been  softened  and 
ameliorated  that  day,  by  the  society  of  lovely  woman.  There 
is  a  gentleman  in  company  whom  two  accomplished  and 
delightful  females  regard  with  veneration,  as  the  fountain  of 
their  existence.  Yes,  when  yet  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs 
lisped  in  language  scarce  intelligible,  they  called  that  indi- 
vidual "  Father  !  "     There  is  great  applause.     He  gives  them 


15^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

'*  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  God  bless  him  !  "  They  all  shake  hands 
with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  they  drink  the  toast.  The  youngest 
gentleman  in  company  does  so  with  a  thrill;  for  lie  feels  that 
a  mysterious  influence  pervades  the  man  who  claims  that 
being  in  the  pink  scarf  for  his  daughter. 

What  saith  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  reply  ?  Or  rather  let  the  ques- 
tion be.  What  leaves  he  unsaid  ?  Nothing.  More  puncli  is 
called  for,  and  produced,  and  drunk.  Enthusiasm  mounts 
still  higher.  Every  man  comes  out  freely  in  his  own  charac- 
ter. The  gentleman  of  a  theatrical  turn  recites.  Ihe  vocal 
gentleman  regales  them  with  a  song.  Gander  leaves  the 
Gander  of  all  former  feasts  whole  leagues  behind.  He  rises 
to  propose  a  toast.  It  is,  The  Father  of  Todgers's.  It  is 
their  common  friend  Jink.  It  is  Old  Jink,  if  he  may  call 
him  by  that  familiar  and  endearing  appellation.  The  young- 
est gentleman  in  company  utters  a  frantic  negative.  He 
won't  have  it,  he  can't  bear  it,  it  mustn't  be.  But  his  depth 
of  feeling  is  misunderstood.  He  is  supposed  to  be  a  little 
elevated;  and  nobody  heeds  him. 

Mr.  Jinkins  thanks  them  from  his  heart.  It  is,  by  many 
degrees,  the  proudest  day  in  his  humble  career.  When  he 
looks  around  him  on  the  present  occasion,  he  feels  that  he 
wants  words  in  which  to  express  his  gratitude.  One  thing  he 
will  say.  He  hopes  it  has  been  shown  that  Todgers's  can  be 
true  to  itself;  and  that,  an  opportunity  arising,  it  can  come 
out  quite  as  strong  as  its  neighbors — perhaps  stronger.  He 
reminds  them,  amid  thunders  of  encouragement,  that  they 
have  heard  of  a  somewhat  similar  establishment  in  Cannon 
Street;  and  that  they  have  heard  it  praised.  He  wishes  to 
draw  no  invidious  comparisons;  he  would  be  the  last  man  to 
do  it;  but  when  that  Cannon  Street  establishment  shall  be 
able  to  produce  such  a  combination  of  wit  and  beauty  as  has 
graced  that  board  that  day,  and  shall  be  able  to  ser^■e  up  (all 
things  considered)  such  a  dinner  as  that  of  which  they  have 
just  partaken,  he  will  be  happy  to  talk  to  it.  Until  then, 
gentlemen,  he  will  stick  to  Todgers's. 

More  punch,  more  enthusiasm,  more  speeches.  Every 
body's  health  is  drunk,  saving  the  youngest  gentleman's  in 
company.  He  sits  apart,  with  his  elbows  on  the  back  of  a 
vacant  chair,  and  glares  disdainfully  at  Jinkins.  Gander,  in 
a  convulsing  speech,  gives  them  the  health  of  Bailey  junior; 
hiccups  are  heard;  and  a  glass  is  broken.  Mr.  Jinkins  feels 
that  it  is  time  to  join  the  ladies.  He  proposes,  as  a  final 
sentiment,  Mrs.  Todgers,     She   is  worthy  to  be  remembered 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  157 

separately.  Hear,  hear.  So  she  is  ;  no  doubt  of  it.  They 
all  find  fault  with  her  at  other  times;  but  every  man  feels, 
now,  that  he  could  die  in  her  defense. 

They  go  up-stairs,  where  they  are  not  expected  so  soon; 
for  Mrs.  Todgers  is  asleep,  Miss  Charity  is  adjusting  her 
hair,  and  Mercy,  who  has  made  a  sofa  of  one  of  the  window 
seats,  is  in  a  gracefully  recumbent  attitude.  She  is  rising 
hastily,  when  Mr.  Jinkins  implores  her,  for  all  their  sakes, 
not  to  stir;  she  looks  too  graceful  and  too  lovely,  he 
remarks,  to  be  disturbed.  She  laughs,  and  yields,  and  fans 
herself,  and  drops  her  fan,  and  there  is  a  rush  to  pick  it  up. 
Being  now  installed,  by  one  consent,  as  the  beauty  of  the 
party,  she  is  cruel  and  capricious,  and  sends  gentlemen  on 
messages  to  other  gentlemen,  and  forgets  all  about  them 
before  they  can  return  with  the  answer,  and  invents  a  thou- 
sand tortures,  rending  their  hearts  to  pieces.  Bailey  brings 
up  the  tea  and  coffee.  There  is  a  small  cluster  of  admirers 
around  Charity;  but  they  are  only  those  who  can  not  get 
near  her  sister.  The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  is 
pale,  but  collected,  and  still  sits  apart;  for  his  spirit  loves  to 
hold  communion  with  itself,  and  his  soul  recoils  from  noisy 
revelers.  She  has  a  consciousness  of  his  presence  and  his 
adoration.  He  sees  it  flashing  sometimes  in  the  corner  of 
her  eye.  Have  a  care,  Jinkins,  ere  you  provoke  a  desperate 
man  to  frenzy! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  followed  his  younger  friends  up-stairs, 
and  taken  a  chair  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Todgers.  He  had  also 
spilled  a  cup  of  coffee  over  his  legs  without  appearing  to  be 
aware  of  the  circumstance;  nor  did  he  seem  to  know  that 
there  was  muffin  on  his  knee. 

'*  And  how  have  they  used  you  down-stairs,  sir.? "  asked 
the  hostess. 

"  Their  conduct  has  been  such,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  ''  as  I  can  never  think  of  without  emotion,  or 
rememb'er  without  a  tear.     Oh,  Mrs.  Todgers!  " 

"  My  goodness!  "  exclaimed  that  lady.  "  How  low  you 
are  in  your  spirits,  sir." 

"  I  am  a  man,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shed- 
ding tears,  and  speaking  with  an  imperfect  articulation,  "  but 
I  am  also  a  father.  I  am  also  a  widower.  My  feelings,  Mrs. 
Todgers,  will  not  consent  to  be  entirely  smothered,  like  the 
young  children  in  the  Tower.  They  are  grown  up,  and  the 
more  1  press  the  bolster  on  them,  the  more  they  look  around 
the  corner  of  it." 


I5S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

He  suddenly  became  conscious  of  the  bit  of  muffin,  and 
stared  at  it  intently,  shakinj^  his  head  the  while,  in  a  forlorn 
and  imbecile  manner,  as  if  he  regarded  it  as  his  evil  genius, 
and  mildly  reproached  it. 

"  She  was  beautiful,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  he  said,  turning  his 
glazed  eye  again  upon  her,  without  the  least  preliminary 
notice.     '^  She  had  a  small  property." 

"So  I  have  heard,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers  with  great  sympa- 
thy. 

"  Those  are  her  daughters,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pointing 
out  the  young  ladies,  with  increased  emotion. 

Mrs.  Todgers  had  no  doubt  of  it. 

"  Mercy  and  Charity,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Charity  and 
Mercy.     Not  unholy  names,  I  hope?  " 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff!  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  What  a  ghastly 
smile!     Are  you  ill,  sir?" 

He  pressed  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  answered  in  a  sol- 
emn manner,  and  a  faint  voice,  "Chronic." 

"  Cholic?"  cried  the  frightened  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Chron-ic,"  he  repeated,  with  some  difficulty.  "  Chron-ic. 
A  chronic  disorder.  I  have  been  its  victim  from  childhood. 
It  is  carrying  me  to  my  grave." 

"  Heaven  forbid! "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  reckless  with  despair.  "  I 
am  rather  glad  of  it,  upon  the  whole.  You  are  like  her, 
Mrs.  Todgers." 

"  Don't  squeeze  me  so  tight,  pray,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  If  any 
of  the  gentlemen  should  notice  us." 

"  For  her  sake,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Permit  me.  In 
honor  of  her  memory.  For  the  sake  of  a  voice  from  the 
tomb.  You  are  very  like  her,  Mrs.  Todgers!  What  a  world 
this  is!  " 

"  Ah!     Indeed  you  may  say  that!  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is  a  vain  and  thoughtless  world,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  overflowing  with  despondency.  "  These  young 
people  about  us.  Oh!  what  sense  have  they  of  their  respons- 
ibilities?    None.     Give  me  your  other  hand,  Mrs.  Todgers." 

That  lady  hesitated,  and  said  "she  didn't  like." 

"  Has  a  voice  trom  the  grave  no  influence?  "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  with  dismal  tenderness.  "  This  is  irreligious! 
My  dear  creature." 

"  Hush!  "  urged  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  Really  you  mustn't." 

"  It's  not  me,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Don't  suppose  it's 
me;  it's  the  voice;  it's  her  voice." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  159 

Mrs.  Pecksniff  deceased,  must  have  had  an  unusually- 
thick  and  husky  voice  for  a  lady,  and  rather  a  stuttering 
voice,  and  to  say  the  truth  somewhat  of  a  drunken  voice,  if 
it  had  ever  borne  much  resemblance  to  that  in  which  Mr. 
Pecksniff  spoke  just  then.  But  perhaps  this  was  delusion 
on  his  part. 

"  It  has  been  a  day  of  enjoyment,  Mrs.  Todgers,  but  still 
it  has  been  a  day  of  torture.  It  has  reminded  me  of  my 
loneliness.     What  am  I  in  the  world?  " 

"  An  excellent  gentleman,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  Mrs  Tod- 
gers. 

"  There  is  consolation  in  that  too,"  cried  Mr.    Pecksniff. 

"Am  I?" 

"  There  is  no  better  man  living,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  I 
am  sure." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  smiled  through  his  tears,  and  slightly  shook 
his  head.  '^  You  are  very  good,"  he  said,  "  thank  you.  It 
is  a  great  happiness  to  me,  Mrs.  Todgers,  to  make  young 
people  happy.  The  happiness  of  my  pupils  is  my  chief 
object.  I  dote  upon  'em.  They  dote  upon  me  too.  Some- 
times." 

"  Always,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  When  they  say  they  haven't  improved,  ma'am,"  whispered 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  at  her  with  profound  mystery,  and 
motioning  to  her  to  advance  her  ear  a  little  closer  to  his 
mouth.  "  When  they  say  they  haven't  improved,  ma'am, 
and  the  premium  was  too  high,  they  lie!  I  shouldn't  wish  it 
to  be  mentioned;  you  will  understand  me;  but  I  say  to  you 
as  to  an  old  friend,  they  lie." 

"  Base  wretches  they  must  be!  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  *'  you  are  right.  I  respect 
you  for  that  observation.  A  word  in  your  ear.  To  parents 
and  guardians.     This  is   in  confidence,  Mrs.  Todgers?  " 

"  The  strictest,  of  course!  "  cried  that  lady. 

"  To  parents  and  guardians,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  An  eligible  opportunity  now  offers,  which  unites  the  advan- 
tages of  the  best  practical  architectural  education  with  the 
comforts  of  a  home,  and  the  constant  association  with 
some,  who,  however  humble  their  sphere  and  limited  their 
capacity — observe! — are  not  unmindful  of  their  moral 
responsibilities." 

Mrs.  Todgers  looked  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  this 
might  mean,  as  well  she  might;  for  it  was,  as  the  reader 
may  perchance   remember,   Mr.   Pecksniff's  usual   form  of 


i6o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

advertisement  when  he  wanted  a  pupil;  and  seemed  to  have 
no  particular  reference,  at  present,  to  any  thing.  But  Mr. 
Pecksniff  held  up  his  finger  as  a  caution  to  her  not  to  inter- 
rupt him. 

"  Do  you  know  any  parent  or  guardian,  Mrs.  Todgers," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  who  desires  to  avail  himself  of  such  an 
opportunity  for  a  young  gentleman?  An  orphan  would  be 
preferred.  Do  you  know  of  any  orphan  with  three  or  four 
hundred  pounds? " 

Mrs.  Todgers  reflected,  and  shook  her  head. 

''  When  you  hear  of  an  orphan  with  three  or  four  hun- 
dred pounds,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''let  that  dear  orphan's 
friends  apply,  by  letter  post-paid,  to  S.  P.,  Post-office,  Salis- 
bury. I  don't  know  who  he  is,  exactly.  Don't  be  alarmed, 
Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  falling  heavily  against 
her;  '*  chronic — chronic  !  Let's  have  a  little  drop  of  some- 
thing to  drink." 

"  Bless  my  life.  Miss  Pecksniffs!  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers, 
aloud,   '*  your  dear  pa's  took  very  poorly!  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  straightened  himself  by  a  surprising  effort, 
as  every  one  turned  hastily  toward  him;  and  standing  on  his 
feet,  regarded  the  assembly  with  a  look  of  ineffable  wisdom. 
Gradually  it  gave  place  to  a  smile;  a  feeble,  helpless,  melan- 
choly smile;  bland,  almost  to  sickliness.  "  Do  not  repine, 
my  friends,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tenderly.  "  Do  not  weep  for 
me.  It  is  chronic,"  And  with  these  words,  after  making  a 
futile  attempt  to  pull  off  his  shoes,  he  fell  into  the  fire-place. 

The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  had  him  out  in  a 
second.  Yes,  before  a  hair  upon  his  head  was  singed,  he 
had  him  on  the  hearth-rug. — Her  father  ! 

She  was  almost  beside  herself.  So  was  her  sister.  Jinkins 
consoled  them  both.  They  all  consoled  them.  Every  body 
had  something  to  say,  except  the  youngest  gentleman  in 
company,  who  with  a  noble  self-devotion  did  the  heavy 
work,  and  held  up  Mr.  Pecksniff's  head  without  being  taken 
notice  of  by  any  body.  At  last  they  gathered  round,  and 
agreed  to  carry  him  up-stairs  to  bed.  The  youngest  gentle- 
man in  company  was  rebuked  by  Jinkins  for  tearing  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  coat !     Ha,  ha  !     But  no  matter. 

They  carried  him  up-stairs,  and  crushed  the  youngest  gen- 
tleman at  every  step.  His  bed-room  was  at  the  top  of  the 
house,  and  it  was  a  long  way;  but  they  got  him  there  in 
course  of  time.  He  asked  them  frequently  on  the  road  for 
a  little  drop  of  something  to  drink.     It  seemed  an  idiosyn- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  t6i 

crasy.  The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  proposed  a 
draught  of  water.  Mr,  Pecksniff  called  him  opprobrious 
names  for  the  suggestion. 

Jinkins  and  Gander  took  the  rest  upon  themselves,  and 
made  him  as  comfortable  as  they  could,  on  the  outside  of 
his  bed;  and  when  he  seemed  disposed  to  sleep,  they  left 
him.  But  before  they  had  all  gained  the  bottom  of  the 
staircase,  a  vision  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  strangely  attired,  was 
seen  to  flutter  on  the  top  landing.  He  desired  to  collect 
their  sentiments,  it  seemed,  upon  the  nature  of  human  life. 

*'  My  friends,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  over  the  banis- 
ters, ''  let  us  improve  our  minds  by  mutual  inquiry  and  dis- 
cussion. Let  us  be  moral.  Let  us  contemplate  existence. 
Where  is  Jinkins  ?  " 

"  Here,"  cried  that  gentleman.     *'  Go  to  bed  again  !  " 

"To bed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Bed  !  'Tis  the  voice 
of  the  sluggard,  I  hear  him  complain,  you  have  woke  me  too 
soon,  I  must  slumber  again.  If  any  young  orphan  will 
repeat  the  remainder  of  that  simple  piece  from  Doctor 
Watts's  collection  an  eligible  opportunity  now  offers." 

Nobody  volunteered. 

"  This  is  very  soothing,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  pause. 
"  Extremely  so.  Cool  and  refreshing;  particularly  to  the 
legs  !  The  legs  of  the  human  subject,  my  friends,  are  a  beau- 
tiful production.  Compare  them  with  wooden  legs,  and 
observe  the  difference  between  the  anatomy  of  nature  and 
the  anatomy  of  art.  Do  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
leaning  over  the  banisters,  with  an  odd  recollection  of  his 
familiar  manner  among  new  pupils  at  home,  "  that  I  should 
very  much  like  to  see  Mrs.  Todgers's  notion  of  a  wooden  leg, 
if  perfectly  agreeable  to  herself  !  " 

As  it  appeared  impossible  to  entertain  any  reasonable 
hopes  of  him  after  this  speech,  Mr.  Jinkins  and  Mr.  Gander 
went  up-stairs  again,  and  once  more  got  him  into  bed.  But 
they  had  not  descended  to  the  second  floor  before  he  was 
out  again;  nor  when  they  had  repeated  the  process,  had  they 
descended  the  first  flight,  before  he  was  out  again.  In  a 
word,  as  often  as  he  was  shut  up  in  his  own  room,  he  darted 
out  afresh,  charged  with  some  new  moral  sentiment,  which 
he  continually  repeated  over  the  banisters,  with  extraordi- 
nary relish,  and  an  irrepressible  desire  for  the  improvement 
of  his  fellow-creatures  that  nothing  could  subdue. 

Under  these  circumstances,  when  they  had  got  him  into 
bed  tor  the  thirtieth  time  or  so,  Mr.  Jenkins  held  him,  while 


i62  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT. 

his  companion  went  down-stairs  in  search  of  Bailey  junior, 
with  whom  he  presently  returned.  That  youth,  having  been 
apprised  of  the  service  required  of  him,  was  in  great  spirits, 
and  brought  up  a  stool,  a  candle,  and  his  supper;  to  the  end 
that  he  might  keep  watch  outside  the  bed-room  door  with 
tolerable  comfort. 

When  he  had  completed  his  arrangements,  they  locked 
Mr.  Pecksniff  in,  and  left  the  key  on  the  outside;  charging 
the  young  page  to  listen  attentively  for  symptoms  of  an 
apoplectic  nature,  with  which  the  patient  might  be  troubled, 
and,  in  case  of  any  such  presenting  themselves,  to  summon 
them  without  delay.  To  which  Mr.  Bailey  modestly  replied 
that  "  he  hoped  he  knowed  wot  o'clock  it  was  in  gineral,  and 
didn't  date  his  letters  to  his  friends,  from  Todgers's,  for 
nothing." 

CHAPTER  X. 

CONTAINING  STRANGE  MATTER  ;  ON  WHICH  MANY  EVENTS 
IN  THIS  HISTORY  MAY,  FOR  THEIR  GOOD  OR  EVIL  INFLUENCE, 
CHIEFLY    DEPEND. 

But  Mr.  Pecksniff  came  to  town  on  business.  Had  he 
forgotten  that  ?  Was  he  always  taking  his  pleasure  with 
Todgers's  jovial  brood,  unmindful  of  tbR  serious  demands, 
whatever  they  might  be,  upon  his  calm  consideration  ? 
No. 

Time  and  tide  will  wait  for  no  man,  saith  the  adage.  But 
all  men  have  to  wait  for  time  and  tide.  That  tide  which,  taken 
at  the  flood,  would  lead  Seth  Pecksniff  on  to  fortune,  was 
marked  down  in  the  table,  and  about  to  flow.  No  idle 
Pecksniff  lingered  far  inland,  unmindful  of  the  changes  of 
the  stream  ;  but  there,  upon  the  water's  edge,  over  his 
shoes  already,  stood  the  worthy  creature,  prepared  to  wallow 
in  the  very  mud,  so  that  it  slid  toward  the  quarter  of  his 
hope. 

The  trustfulness  of  his  two  fair  daughters  was  beautiful 
indeed.  They  had  that  firm  reliance  on  their  parent's 
nature,  which  taught  them  to  feel  certain  that  in  all  he  did, 
he  had  his  purpose  straight  and  full  before  him.  And  that 
its  noble  end  and  object  was  himself,  which  almost  of  neces- 
city  included  them,  they  knew.  The  devotion  of  these 
maids  was  perfect. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  163 

Their  filial  confidence  was  rendered  the  more  touching, 
by  their  having  no  knowledge  of  their  parent's  real  designs, 
in  the  present  instance.  All  that  they  knew  of  his  proceed- 
ings, was,  that  every  morning,  after  the  early  breakfast,  he 
repaired  to  the  post-office  and  inquired  for  letters.  That 
task  performed  his  business  for  the  day  was  over  ;  and  he 
again  relaxed,  until  the  rising  of  another  sun  proclaimed  the 
advent  of  another  post. 

This  v/ent  on,  for  four  or  five  days.  At  length,  one  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  with  a  breathless  rapidity, 
strange  to  observe  in  him,  at  other  times  so  calm;  and  seek- 
ing immediate  speech  with  his  daughters,  shut  himself  up 
with  them  in  private  conference,  for  two  whole  hours.  Of 
all  that  passed  in  this  period,  only  the  following  words  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  utterance  are  known. 

"  How  he  has  come  to  change  so  very  much  (if  it  should 
turn  out  as  I  expect,  that  he  has),  we  needn't  stop  to  inquire. 
My  dears,  I  have  my  thoughts  upon  the  subject,  but  I  will 
not  impart  them.  It  is  enough  that  we  will  not  be  proud, 
resentful,  or  unforgiving.  If  he  wants  our  friendship,  he 
shall  have  it.     We  know  our  duty,   I  hope  !  " 

That  same  day  at  noon,  an  old  gentleman  alighted  from 
a  hackney-coach  at  the  post-office,  and,  giving  his  name, 
inquired  for  a  letter  addressed  to  himself,  and  directed  to  be 
left  till  called  for.  It  had  been  lying  there  some  days.  The 
superscription  was  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  hand,  and  it  was  sealed 
with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  seal. 

It  was  very  short,  containing  indeed  nothing  more  than 
an  address  "  with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  respectful,  and  (notwith- 
standing what  has  passed)  sincerely  affectionate  regards." 
The  old  gentleman  tore  off  the  direction — scattering  the  rest 
in  fragments  to  the  winds — and  giving  it  to  the  coachman, 
bade  him  drive  as  near  that  place  as  he  could.  In  pur- 
suance of  these  instructions  he  was  driven  to  the  monument; 
where  he  again  alighted,  and  dismissed  the  vehicle,  and 
walked  toward  Todgers's. 

Though  the  face  and  form,  and  gait  of  this  old  man,  and 
even  his  grip  of  the  stout  stick  on  which  he  leaned,  were  all 
expressive  of  a  resolution  not  easily  shaken,  and  a  purpose 
(it  matters  little  whether  right  or  wrong,  just  now)  such  as 
in  other  days  might  have  survived  the  rack,  and  had  its 
strongest  life  in  weakest  death  ;  still  there  were  grains  of 
hesitation  in  his  mind,  which  made  him  now  avoid  the  house 
he  sought,  and  loiter  to  and  fro  in  a  gleam  of  sunlight,  that 


164  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

brightened  the  Httle  church-yard  hard  by.  There  may  have 
been,  in  the  presence  of  those  idle  heaps  of  dust  among  the 
busiest  stir  of  life,  something  to  increase  his  wavering  ;  but 
there  he  walked,  awakening  the  echoes  as  he  paced  up  and 
down,  until  the  church  clock,  striking  the  quarters  for  the 
second  time  since  he  had  been  there,  roused  him  from  his 
meditation.  Shaking  off  his  incertitude  as  the  air  parted 
with  the  sound  of  the  bells,  he  walked  rapidly  to  the  house, 
and  knocked  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  seated  in  the  landlady's  little  room,  and 
his  visitor  found  him  reading — by  an  accident;  he  apologized 
for  it — an  excellent  theological  work.  There  were  cake  and 
wine  upon  a  little  table — by  another  accident,  for  which  he 
also  apologized.  Indeed  he  said,  he  had  given  his  visitor  up, 
and  was  about  to  partake  of  that  simple  refreshment  with 
his  children,  when  he  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Your  daughters  are  well  ?  "  said  old  Martin,  laying  down 
his  hat  and  stick. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  endeavored  to  conceal  his  agitation  as  a 
father  when  he  answered.  Yes,  they  were.  They  were  good 
girls,  he  said,  very  good.  He  would  not  venture  to  recom- 
mend Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  take  the  easy-chair,  or  to  keep  out 
of  the  draught  from  the  door.  If  he  made  any  such  sugges- 
tion, he  would  expose  himself,  he  feared,  to  most  unjust  sus- 
picion. He  would,  therefore,  content  himself  with  remark- 
ing that  there  was  an  easy-chair  in  the  room;  and  that  the 
door  was  far  from  air-tight.  The  latter  imperfection,  he 
might  perhaps  venture  to  add,  was  not  uncommonly  to  be 
met  with  in  old  houses. 

The  old  man  sat  down  in  the  easy-chair,  and,  after  a  few 
moments'  silence,  said: 

*'  In  the  first  place,  let  me  thank  you  for  coming  to  Lon- 
don so  promptly,  at  my  almost  unexplained  request;  I  need 
scarcely  add,  at  my  cost." 

"At  your  cost,  my  good  sir!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a 
tone  of  great  surprise. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Martin,  waving  his  hand  impatiently, 
"my  habit  to  put  my  —  well!  my  relatives — to  any  personal 
expense  to  gratify  my  caprices." 

"  Caprices,  my  good  sir!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  That  is  scarcely  the  proper  word,  eilher,  in  this  instance," 
said  the  old  man.     "  No.     You  are  right." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  inwardly  very  much  relieved  to  hear  it, 
though  he  didn't  at  all  know  why. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  165 

You  are  right,"  repeated  Martin.  "  It  is  not  a  caprice. 
It  is  built  upon  reason,  proof,  and  cool  compassion.  Caprices 
never  are.  Moreover,  I  am  not  a  capricious  man.  I  never 
was." 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  returned  the  other  quickly.  "  You 
are  to  begin  to  know  it  now.  You  are  to  test  and  prove  it, 
in  time  to  come.  You  and  yours  are  to  find  that  1  can  be 
constant,  and  am  not  to  be  diverted  from  my  end.  Do  you 
hear?" 

"Perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

''  I  very  much  regret,"  Martin  resumed,  looking  steadily 
at  him,  and  speaking  in  a  slow  and  measured  tone;  "  I  very 
much  regret  that  you  and  I  held  such  a  conversation  together, 
as  that  which  passed  between  us,  at  our  last  meeting.  I  very 
much  regret  that  I  laid  open  to  you  what  were  then  my 
thoughts  of  you,  so  freely  as  I  did.  The  intentions  that  I 
bear  toward  you,  now,  are  of  another  kind;  deserted  by  all 
in  whom  I  have  ever  trusted;  hoodwinked  and  beset  by  all 
who  should  help  and  sustain  me;  I  fly  to  you  for  refuge.  I 
confide  in  you  to  be  my  ally;  to  attach  yourself  to  me  by 
ties  of  interest  and  expectation;"  he  laid  great  stress  upon 
these  words,  though  Mr.  Pecksniff  particularly  begged  him 
not  to  mention  it;  "  and  to  help  me  to  visit  the  consequences 
of  the  very  worst  species  of  meanness,  dissimulation,  and 
subtlety,  on  the  right  heads." 

*'  My  noble  sir!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  catching  at  his  out- 
stretched hand.  "And  you  regret  the  having  harbored 
unjust  thoughts  of  me!  you  with  those  gray  hairs!" 

"  Regrets,"  said  Martin,  "  are  the  natural  property  of  gray 
hairs;  and  I  enjoy,  in  common  with  all  other  men,  at  least 
my  share  of  such  inheritance.  And  so  enough  of  that.  I 
regret  having  been  severed  from  you  so  long.  If  I  had 
known  you  sooner,  and  sooner  used  you  as  you  well  deserve, 
I  might  have  been  a  happier  man." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  clasped  his 
hands  in  rapture. 

"  Your  daughters,"  said  Martin,  after  a  short  silence.  ''  I 
don't  know  them.      Are  they  like  you  ?  " 

"  In  the  nose  of  my  eldest  and  the  chin  of  my  youngest, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  returned  the  widower,  "  their  sainted  parent 
(not  myself,  their  mother),  lives  again." 

"  I  don't  mean  in  person,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Morally, 
morally." 


i66  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  'Tis  not  for  me  to  say,"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a 
gentle  smile.     "  I  have  done  my  best,  sir." 

''  I  could  wish  to  see  them,"  said  Martin;  *' are  they  near 
at  hand  ? " 

They  were  very  near;  for  they  had  in  fact  been  listening 
at  the  door  from  the  beginning  of  this  conversation  until 
now,  when  they  precipitately  retired.  Having  wiped  the 
signs  of  weakness  from  his  eyes,  and  so  given  them  time  to 
get  up-stairs,  Mr.  Pecksniff  opened  the  door,  and  mildly 
cried  in  the  passage: 

''  My  own  darlings,  where  are  you  ?  " 

"  Here,  my  dear  pa!  "  replied  the  distant  voice  of  Charity. 

*'  Come  down  into  the  back  parlor,  if  you  please,  my 
love,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''  and  bring  your  sister  with  you." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  pa,"  cried  Merry  ;  and  down  they  came 
directly  (being  all  obedience),  singing  as  they  came. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  astonishment  of  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs  when  they  found  a  stranger  with  their  dear  papa. 
Nothing  could  surpass  their  mute  amazement,  when  he  said, 
"  My  children,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  "  But  when  he  told  them 
that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and  he  were  friends,  and  that  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit  had  said  such  kind  and  tender  words  as  pierced 
his  very  heart,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  cried  with  one  accord, 
'*  Thank  heaven  for  this  !"  and  fell  upon  the  old  man's  neck. 
And  when  they  had  embraced  him  with  such  fervor  of  affec- 
tion that  no  words  can  describe  it,  they  grouped  themselves 
about  his  chair,  and  hung  over  him  ;  as  figuring  to  them- 
selves no  earthly  joys  like  that  of  ministering  to  his  wants, 
and  crowding  into  the  remainder  of  his  life,  the  love  they 
would  have  diffused  over  their  whole  existence,  from  infancy, 
if  he — dear  obdurate  ! — had  but  consented  to  receive  the 
precious  offering. 

The  old  man  looked  attentively  from  one  to  the  other  and 
then  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  several  times. 

"  What,"  he  asked  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  happening  to  catch 
his  eye  in  its  descent,  for  until  now  it  had  been  piously 
upraised,  with  something  of  that  expression  which  the  poetry 
of  ages  has  attributed  to  a  domestic  bird,  when  breathing  its 
last  amid  the  ravages  of  an  electric  storm — "  What  are  their 


names 


Mr.  Pecksniff  told  him,  and  added,  rather  hastily  ;  his 
calumniators  would  have  said,  with  a  view  to  any  testamen- 
tary thoughts  that  might  be  flitting  through  old  Martin's 
mind  ;  "  Perhaps,  my  dears,  you  had  better  write  them  down. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  167 

Your  humble  autographs  are  of  no  value  in  themselves,  but 
affection  may  prize  them." 

*'  Affection,"  said  the  old  man,  "  will  expend  itself  on  the 
living  originals.  Do  not  trouble  yourselves,  my  girls,  I  shall 
not  so  easily  forget  you.  Charity  and  Mercy,  as  to  need  such 
tokens  of  remembrance.     Cousin  !  " 

"  Sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  alacrity. 

"  Do  you  never  sit  down  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes  ;  occasionally,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who 
had  been  standing  all  this  time. 

"Will  you  do  so  now?" 

**  Can  you  ask  me,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff,  slipping  into 
a  chair  immediately,  "  whether  I  will  do  any  thing  that 
you  desire  ? " 

"  You  talk  confidently,"  said  Martin,  "  and  you  mean 
well  ;  but  I  fear  you  don't  know  what  an  old  man's  humors 
are.  You  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  required  to  court  his 
likings  and  dislikings  ;  to  adapt  yourself  to  his  prejudices  ; 
to  do  his  bidding,  be  it  what  it  may  ;  to  bear  with  his  dis- 
trusts and  jealousies  ;  and  always  still  be  zealous  in  his  serv- 
ice. When  I  remember  how  numerous  these  failings  are  in 
me,  and  judge  of  their  occasional  enormity  by  the  injurious 
thoughts  I  lately  entertained  of  you,  I  hardly  dare  to  claim 
you  for  my  friend." 

"  My  worthy  sir,"  returned  his  relative,  '*  how  can  you  talk 
in  such  a  painful  strain  !  What  was  more  natural  than  that 
you  should  make  one  slight  mistake,  when  in  all  other 
respects  you  were  so  very  correct  and  have  had  such  reason, 
such  very  sad  and  undeniable  reason,  to  judge  of  every  one 
about  you  in  the  worst  light  !  " 

'' True,"  replied  the  other.  "You  are  very  lenient  with 
me." 

"  We  always  said,  my  girls  and  I,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff 
with  increasing  obsequiousness,  "  that  while  we  mourned  the 
heaviness  of  our  misfortune  in  being  confounded  with  the 
base  and  mercenary,  still  we  could  not  wonder  at  it.  My 
dears,  you  remember  ?  " 

Oh  vividly  !     A  thousand  times  ! 

"  We  uttered  no  complaint,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Occa- 
sionally we  had  the  presumption  to  console  ourselves  with 
the  remark  that  truth  would  in  the  end  prevail,  and  virtue 
be  triumphant ;  but  not  often.     My  loves,  you  recollect?" 

Recollect  !  Could  he  doubt  it  !  Dearest  pa,  what 
strange  unnecessary  questions  ! 


i68  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

''And  when  I  saw  you,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  still 
greater  deference,  "  in  the  little,  unassuming  village  where 
we  take  the  liberty  of  dwelling,  I  said  you  were  mistaken  in 
me,  my  dear  sir  ;  that  was  all,  I  think  ?" 

"  No,  not  all,"  said  Martin,  who  had  been  sitting  with  his 
hand  upon  his  brow  for  some  time  past  and  now  looked  up 
again  :  "  you  said  much  more,  which,  added  to  other  cir- 
cumstances that  have  come  to  my  knowledge,  opened  my 
eyes.  You  spoke  to  me,  disinterestedly,  on  behalf  of — I 
needn't  name  him.     You  know  who  I  mean," 

Trouble  was  expressed  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  visage,  as  he 
pressed  his  hot  hands  together  and  replied  with  humility, 
"  Quite  disinterestedly,  sir,  I  assure  you." 

"I  know  it,"  said  old  Martin,  in  his  quiet  way.  "  I  am 
sure  of  it.  I  said  so.  It  was  disinterested  too,  in  you,  to 
draw  that  herd  of  harpies  off  from  me,  and  to  be  their  victim 
yourself  ;  most  other  men  would  have  suffered  them  to  dis- 
play themselves  in  all  their  rapacity,  and  would  have  striven 
to  rise,  by  contrast,  in  my  estimation.  You  felt  for  me  and 
drew  them  off,  for  which  I  owe  you  many  thanks.  Although 
I  left  the  place,  I  know  what  passed  behind  my  back,  you 
see!  " 

"You  amaze  me,  sir!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff;  which  was 
true  enough. 

"  My  knowledge  of  your  proceedings,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  does  not  stop  at  this.  You  have  a  new  inmate  in  your 
house." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  rejoined  the  architect,  *'  I  have." 

"  He  must  quit  it,"  said  Martin. 

"  For — for  yours!  "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  quivering 
mildness. 

"  For  any  shelter  he  can  find,"  the  old  man  answered. 
"  He  has  deceived  you." 

"  1  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  eagerly.  ''  I  trust  not. 
I  have  been  extremely  well  disposed  toward  that  young 
man.  I  hope  it  can  not  be  shown  that  he  has  forfeited  all 
claim  to  my  protection.  Deceit,  deceit,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit,  would  be  final.  I  should  hold  myself  bound,  on 
proof  of  deceit,  to  renounce  him  instantly." 

The  old  man  glanced  at  both  his  fair  supi)orters,  but 
especially  at  Miss  Mercy,  whom,  indeed,  he  looked  full  in 
the  face,  with  a  greater  demonstration  of  interest  than  had 
yet  appeared  in  his  features.  His  gaze  again  encountered 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  he  said,  composedly: 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  169 

"  Of  course  you  know  that  he  has  made  his  matrimonial 
choice  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  rubbing  his  hair  up  very- 
stiff  upon  his  head,  and  staring  wildly  at  his  daughters. 
"  This  is  becoming  tremendous!  " 

"  You  know  the  fact  ?  "  repeated  Martin. 

"  Surely  not  without  his  grandfather's  consent  and  appro- 
bation, my  dear  sir!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  *'  Don't  tell  me 
that.  For  the  honor  of  human  nature,  say  you're  not  about 
to  tell  me  that  !  " 

"  I  thought  he  had  suppressed  it,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  indignation  felt  by  Mr.  Pecksniff  at  this  terrible  dis- 
closure, was  only  to  be  equaled  by  the  kindling  anger  of  his 
daughters.  What!  Had  they  taken  to  their  hearth  and 
home  a  secretly  contracted  serpent  ;  a  crocodile,  who  had 
made  a  furtive  offer  of  his  hand;  an  imposition  on  society; 
a  bankrupt  bachelor  with  no  effects,  trading  with  the  spinster 
world  on  false  pretenses!  And  oh,  to  think  that  he  should 
have  disobeyed  and  practiced  on  that  sweet,  that  venerable 
gentleman,  v/hose  name  he  bore;  that  kind  and  tender  guard- 
ian; his  more  than  father  (to  say  nothing  at  all  of  mother), 
horrible,  horrible  !  To  turn  him  out  with  ignominy  would  be 
treatment  much  too  good.  Was  there  nothing  else  that 
could  be  done  to  him  ?  Had  he  incurred  no  legal  pains  and 
penalties?  Could  it  be  that  the  statutes  of  the  land  were  so 
remiss  as  to  have  affixed  no  punishment  to  such  delinquency? 
Monster;  how  basely  had  they  been  deceived  1 

*'  I  am  glad  to  find  you  second  me  so  warmly,"  said  the 
old  man,  holding  up  his  hand  to  stay  the  torrent  of  their 
wrath.  "  I  will  not  deny  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  find 
you  so  full  of  zeal.  We  will  consider  that  topic  as  disposed 
of." 

*'  No,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  not  as  disposed 
of,  until  I  have  purged  my  house  of  this  pollution." 

'*  That  will  follow,"  said  the  old  man,  ''  in  its  own  time.  I 
look  upon  that  as  done." 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  answered  Mr,  Pecksniff,  shaking 
his  hand.  "  You  do  me  honor.  You  may  look  upon  it  as 
done,  I  assure  you." 

**  There  is  another  topic,"  said  Martin,  "  on  which  1  hope 
you  will  assist  me.     You  remember  Mary,  cousin?  " 

"  The  young  lady  that  I  mentioned  to  you,  my  dears,  as 
having  interested  me  so  very  much,"  remarked  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff.    "  Excuse  my  interrupting  you,  sir." 


170  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


*  I  told  her  your  history,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Which  I  also  mentioned,  you  will  recollect,  my  dears,'' 
cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Silly  girls,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Quite 
moved  by  it,  they  were  !  " 

"  Why  look  now!  "  said  Martin,  evidently  pleased  :  "  I 
feared  I  should  have  had  to  urge  her  case  upon  you,  and  ask 
you  to  regard  her  favorably  for  my  sake.  But  I  find  you  have 
no  jealousies  !  Well  1  You  have  no  cause  for  any,  to  be 
sure.  She  has  nothing  to  gain  from  me,  my  dears,  and  she 
knows  it." 

The  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  murmured  their  approval  of  this 
wise  arrangement,  and  their  cordial  sympathy  with  its  inter- 
esting object. 

*'  If  I  could  have  anticipated  what  has  come  to  pass 
between  us  four,"  said  the  old  man,  thoughtfully  ;  "  but  it 
is  too  late  to  think  of  that.  You  would  receive  her  court- 
eously, young  ladies,  and  be  kind  to  her,  if  need  were  ?  " 

Where  was  the  orphan  whom  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs 
would  not  have  cherished  in  their  sisterly  bosom  !  But  when 
that  orphan  was  commended  to  their  care  by  one  on  whom 
the  dammed-up  love  of  years  was  gushing  forth,  what  exhaust- 
less  stores  of  pure  affection  yearned  to  expend  themselves 
upon  her  ! 

An  interval  ensued,  during  which  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  in  an 
absent  frame  of  mind,  sat  gazing  at  the  ground,  without  utter- 
ing a  word  ;  and  as  it  was  plain  that  he  had  no  desire  to  be 
interrupted  in  his  meditations,  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  daugh- 
ters were  profoundly  silent  also.  During  the  whole  of  the 
foregoing  dialogue,  he  had  borne  his  part  with  a  cold,  pas- 
sionless promptitude,  as  though  he  had  learned  and  painfully 
rehearsed  it  all,  a  hundred  times.  Even  when  his  expressions 
were  warmest  and  his  language  most  encouraging,  he  had 
retained  the  same  manner,  without  the  least  abatement.  But 
now  there  was  a  keener  brightness  in  his  eye,  and  more 
expression  in  his  voice,  as  he  said,  awakening  from  his 
thoughtful  mood  : 

*'  You  know  what  will  be  said  of  this  ?  Have  you 
reflected  ? " 

"  Said  of  what,  my  dear  sir  ?  "  Mr.  Pecksniff  asked. 

"  Of  this  new  understanding  between  us." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  benevolently  sagacious,  and  at  the 
same  time  far  above  all  earthly  misconstruction,  as  he  shook 
his  head,  and  observed  that  a  great  many  things  would  be 
said  of  it,  no  doubt. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  171 

"A  great  many,"  rejoined  the  old  man.  "Some  will  say 
that  I  dote  in  my  old  age  ;  that  illness  has  shaken  me  ;  that 
I  have  lost  all  strength  of  mind  ;  and  have  grown  childish. 
You  can  bear  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  answered  that  it  would  be  dreadfully  hard 
to  bear,  but  he  thought  he  could,  if  he  made  a  great 
effort. 

''  Others  will  say — I  speak  of  disappointed,  angry  people 
only — that  you  have  lied,  and  fawned,  and  wormed  yourself 
through  dirty  ways  into  my  favor  ;  by  such  concessions  and 
such  crooked  deeds,  such  meannesses  and  vile  endurances, 
as  nothing  could  repay  ;  no,  not  the  legacy  of  half  the  world 
we  live  in.     You  can  bear  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  reply  that  this  would  be  also  very 
hard  to  bear,  as  reflecting  in  some  degree,  on  the  discern- 
ment of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Still  he  had  a  modest  confidence 
that  he  could  sustain  the  calumny,  with  the  help  of  a  good 
conscience,  and  that  gentleman's  friendship. 

'*  With  the  great  mass  of  slanderers,"  said  old  Martin, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  "  the  tale,  as  I  clearly  foresee, 
will  run  thus  :  That  to  mark  my  contempt  for  the  rabble 
whom  I  despise,  I  chose  from  among  them  the  very  worst, 
and  made  him  do  my  will,  and  pampered  and  enriched  him 
at  the  cost  of  all  the  rest.  That  after  casting  about  for  the 
means  of  a  punishment  which  should  rankle  in  the  bosoms 
of  these  kites  the  most,  and  strike  into  t?ieir  gall,  I.  devised 
this  scheme  at  a  time  when  the  last  link  in  the  chain  of 
grateful  love  and  duty,  that  held  me  to  my  race,  was 
roughly  snapped  asunder  ;  roughly,  for  I  loved  him  well  ; 
roughly,  for  I  had  ever  put  my  trust  in  his  affection;  roughly, 
for  that  he  broke  it  when  I  loved  him  most,  God  help  me  ! 
and  he  without  a  pang  could  throw  me  off,  v/hile  I  clung 
about  his  heart  !  Now,"  said  the  the  old  man,  dismissing 
this  passionate  outburst,  as  suddenly  as  he  had  yielded  to  it, 
*'  is  your  mind  made  up  to  bear  this  likewise  ?  Lay  your 
account  with  having  it  to  bear,  and  put  no  trust  in  being  set 
right  by  me." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  cried  Pecksniff  in  an  ecstasy, 
"  for  such  a  man  as  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  this  day  ; 
for  a  man  so  injured,  yet  so  very  humane  ;  for  a  man  so — I 
am  at  a  loss  what  precise  term  to  use — yet  at  the  same  time 
so  remarkably — I  don't  know  how  to  express  my  meaning  ; 
for  such  a  man  as  I  have  described,  I  hope  it  is  no  presump- 
tion to  say  that  I,  and  I  am  sure  I  may  add  my  children  also 


172  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

(my  dears,  we  perfectly  agree  in  this,  I  think  ?),  would  bear 

any  thing  whatever  !  " 

"Enough,"  said  Martin.  "You  can  charge  no  conse- 
quences on  me.     When  do  you  return  home  ?  " 

"  Whenever  you  please,  my  dear  sir.  To-night  if  you 
desire  it." 

"  I  desire  nothing,"  returned  the  old  man,  "that is  unrea- 
sonable. Such  a  request  would  be.  Will  you  be  ready  to 
return  at  the  end  of  this  week  ?  " 

The  very  time  of  all  others  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have 
suggested  if  it  had  been  left  to  him  to  make  his  own  choice. 
As  to  his  daughters,  the  words,  "  Let  us  be  at  home  on  Sat- 
urday, dear  pa,"  were  actually  upon  their  lips. 

"  Your  expenses,  cousin,"  said  Martin,  taking  a  folded 
slip  of  paper  from  his  pocket-book,  "  may  possibly  exceed 
that  amount.  If  so,  let  me  know  the  balance  that  I  owe  you, 
when  we  next  meet.  It  would  be  useless  if  I  told  you  where 
I  live  just  now  ;  indeed,  I  have  no  fixed  abode.  When  I 
have,  you  shall  know  it.  You  and  your  daughters  may 
expect  to  see  me  before  long  ;  in  the  meantime  I  need  not 
tell  you,  that  we  keep  our  own  confidence.  What  you  will 
do  when  you  get  home,  is  understood  between  us.  Give  me 
no  account  of  it  at  any  time  ;  and  never  refer  to  it  in  any 
way.  I  ask  that  as  a  favor.  I  am  commonly  a  man  of  few 
words,  cousin  ;  and  all  that  need  be  said  just  now  is  said,  I 
think." 

'^  One  glass  of  wine,  one  morsel  of  this  homely  cake  ?  " 
cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  venturing  to  detain  him.     "  My  dears  !  " 

The  sisters  flew  to  wait  upon  him. 

"  Poor  girls  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  You  will  excuse 
their  agitation,  my  dear  sir.  They  are  made  up  of  feeling. 
A  bad  commodity  to  go  through  the  world  with,  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  !  My  youngest  daughter  is  almost  as  much  of  a  woman 
as  my  eldest,  is  she  not,  sir  }  " 

"  Which  is  the  youngest  ? "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Mercy,  by  five  years,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  We  some- 
times venture  to  consider  her  rather  a  fine  figure,  sir.  Speak- 
ing as  an  artist,  I  may  perhaps  be  permitted  to  suggest,  that 
its  outline  is  graceful  and  correct.  I  am  naturally,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  drying  his  hands  upon  his  handkerchief,  and 
looking  anxiously  in  his  cousin's  face  at  almost  every  word, 
"  proud,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  to  have  a  daughter  who 
is  constructed  unon  the  best  models." 

She  seems  to  have  a  iivcly  disposition,"  observed  Martin. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  173 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  That  is  quite  remarka- 
ble. You  have  defined  her  character,  my  dear  sir,  as  cor- 
rectly as  if  you  had  known  her  from  her  birth.  She  has  a 
lively  disposition.  I  assure  you,  my  dear  sir,  that  in  our 
unpretending  home,  her  gayety  is  delightful." 

"  No  doubt,"  returned  the  old  man. 

''  Charity,  upon  the  other  hand,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is 
remarkable  for  strong  sense,  and  for  rather  a  deep  tone  of 
sentiment,  if  the  partiality  of  a  father  may  be  excused  in  say- 
ing so.  A  wonderful  affection  betv/een  them,  my  dear  sir  ! 
Allow  me  to  drink  your  health.     Bless  you  !  " 

"  I  little  thought,"  retorted  Martin,  "  but  a  month  ago, 
that  I  should  be  breaking  bread  and  pouring  wine  with  you. 
I  drink  to  you." 

Not  at  all  abashed  by  the  extraordinary  abruptness  with 
which  these  latter  words  were  spoken,  Mr.  Pecksniff  thanked 
him  devoutly. 

"Nowletme  go,"  said  Martin,  putting  down  the  wine 
when  he  had  merely  touched  it  with  his  lips.  "  My  dears, 
good  morning  !  " 

But  this  distant  form  of  farewell  was  by  no  means  tender 
enough  for  the  yearnings  of  the  young  ladies,  who  again 
embraced  him  with  all  their  hearts — with  all  their  arms  at 
any  rate — to  which  parting  caresses  their  new-found  friend 
submitted  with  a  better  grace  than  might  have  been  expected 
from  one  who,  not  a  moment  before,  had  pledged  their  parent 
in  such  a  very  uncomfortable  manner.  These  endearments 
terminated,  he  took  a  hasty  leave  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  with- 
drew, followed  to  the  door  by  both  father  and  daughters, 
who  stood  there,  kissing  their  hands,  and  beaming  with 
affection  until  he  disappeared  ;  though,  by  the  way,  he  never 
once  looked  back,  after  he  had  crossed  the  threshold. 

When  they  returned  into  the  house,  and  were  again  alone 
in  Mrs.  Todgers's  room,  the  two  young  ladies  exhibited  an 
unusual  amount  of  gayety  ;  insomuch  that  they  clapped  their 
hands,  and  laughed,  and  looked  with  roguish  aspects  and  a 
bantering  air  upon  their  dear  papa.  This  conduct  was  so 
very  unaccountable,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  (being  singularly 
grave  himself)  could  scarcely  choose  but  ask  them  what  it 
meant  ;  and  took  them  to  task,  in  his  gentle  manner,  for 
yielding  to  such  light  emotions. 

"  If  it  was  possible  to  divine  any  cause  for  this  merriment, 
even  the  most  remote,"  he  said,  *'  I  should  not  reprove  you. 
But  >vhen  you  can  have  none  whatever — oh,  really,  really  ! " 


174  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

This  admonition  had  so  little  effect  on  Mercy,  that  she  was 
obliged  to  hold  her  handkerchief  before  her  rosy  lips,  and  to 
throw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  with  every  demonstration  of 
extreme  amusement  ;  which  want  of  duty  so  offended  Mr. 
Pecksniff  that  he  reproved  her  in  set  terms,  and  gave  her  his 
parental  advice  to  correct  herself  in  solitude  and  contempla- 
tion. But  at  that  juncture  they  were  disturbed  by  the  sound 
of  voices  in  dispute  ;  and  as  it  proceeded  from  the  next  room, 
the  subject  matter  of  the  altercation  quickly  reached  their 
ears. 

**  I  don't  care  that !  Mrs,  Todgers,"  said  the  young 
gentleman  who  had  been  the  youngest  gentleman  in 
company  on  the  day  of  the  festival  ;  *'  I  don't  care  that^ 
ma'am,"  said  he,  snapping  his  fingers,  ''  for  Jinkins.  Don't 
suppose  I  do." 

*'  I  am  quite  certain  you  don't,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Todgers. 
"  You  have  too  independent  a  spirit,  I  know,  to  yield  to  any 
body.  And  quite  right.  There  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  give  way  to  any  gentleman.  Every  body  must  be 
well  aware  of  that." 

"  I  should  think  no  more  of  admitting  daylight  into  the 
fellow,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  in  a  desperate  voice, 
"  than  if  he  was  a  bull-dog." 

Mrs.  Todgers  did  not  stop  to  inquire  whether,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  principle,  there  was  any  particular  reason  for  admit- 
ting daylight  even  into  a  bull-dog,  otherwise  than  by  the 
natural  channel  of  his  eyes  ;  but  she  seemed  to  wring  her 
hands,  and  she  moaned. 

*'  Let  him  be  careful,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman.  *'  I 
give  him  warning.  No  man  shall  step  between  me  and  the 
current  of  my  vengeance.  I  know  a  cove — "  he  used  that 
familiar  epithet  in  his  agitation,  but  corrected  himself,  by 
adding,  *'  a  gentleman  of  property,  I  mean — who  practices 
with  a  pair  of  pistols  (fellows  too)  of  his  own.  If  I  am 
driven  to  borrow  'em,  and  to  send  a  friend  to  Jinkins,  a 
tragedy  will  get  into  the  papers.     That's  all." 

Again  Mrs.  Todgers  moaned. 

"  I  have  borne  this  long  enough,"  said  the  youngest  gen- 
tleman, "  but  now  my  soul  rebels  against  it,  and  I  won't 
stand  it  any  longer.  I  left  home  originally,  because  I  had 
that  within  me  which  wouldn't  be  domineered  over  by  a 
sister  ;  and  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  be  put  down  by  hirn^ 
No." 

"  It  is  very  wrong  in  Mr.  Jiukias  ;    I  know  it  is  perfectly 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  175 

inexcusable  in  Mr.  Jinkins,  if  he  intends  it,"  observed   Mrs. 
Todgers. 

''  If  he  intends  it  ! "  cried  the  youngest  gentleman. 
"  Don't  he  interrupt  and  contradict  me  on  every  occasion  ? 
Does  he  ever  fail  to  interpose  himself  between  me  and  any 
thing  or  any  body  that  he  sees  I  have  set  my  mind  upon  ? 
Does  he  make  a  point  of  always  pretending  to  forget  me, 
when  he's  pouring  out  the  beer  ?  Does  he  make  bragging 
remarks  about  his  razors,  and  insulting  allusions  to  people 
who  have  no  necessity  to  shave  more  than  once  a  week  ? 
But  let  him  look  out  !  He'll  find  himself  shaved,  pretty 
close,  before  long,  and  so  I  tell  him." 

The  young  gentleman  was  mistaken  in  this  closing  sen- 
tence, inasmuch  as  he  never  told  it  to  Jinkins,  but  always  to 
Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  However,"  he  said,  "  these  are  not  proper  subjects  for 
ladies*  ears.  All  I've  got  to  say  to  you,  Mrs.  Todgers,  is,  a 
week's  notice  from  next  Saturday.  The  same  house  can't 
contain  that  miscreant  and  me  any  longer.  If  we  get  over 
the  intermediate  time  without  bloodshed,  you  may  think 
yourself  pretty  fortunate.     I  don't  myself  expect  we  shall." 

**  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  "what  would  I  have 
given  to  have  prevented  this  ?  To  lose  you,  sir,  would  be 
like  losing  the  house's  right-hand.  So  popular  as  you  are 
among  the  gentlemen  ;  so  generally  looked  up  to  ;  and  so 
much  liked  !  I  do  hope  you'll  think  better  of  it  ;  if  on 
nobody  else's  account,  on  mine." 

''  There's  jinkins,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  moodily. 
'*  Your  favorite.  He'll  console  you  and  the  gentlemen  too, 
for  the  loss  of  twenty  such  as  me.  I'm  not  understood  in 
this  house.     I  never  have  been." 

"  Don't  run  away  with  that  opinion,  sir  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Todgers,  with  a  show  of  honest  indignation.  "  Don't  make 
such  a  charge  as  that  against  the  establishment,  I  must  beg 
of  you.  It  is  not  so  bad  as  that  comes  to,  sir.  Make  any 
remark  you  please  against  the  gentleman,  or  against  me  ; 
but  don't  say  you're  not  understood  in  this  house." 

"I'm  not  treated  as  if  I  was,"  said  the  youngest  gentle- 
man. 

~^*  There  you  make  a  great  mistake,  sir,"  returned  Mrs. 
Todgers,  in  the  same  strain.  ''  As  many  of  the  gentlemen 
and  I  have  often  said,  you  are  too  sensitive.  That's  where 
it  is.  You  are  of  too  susceptible  a  nature ;  it's  in  your 
spirit." 


176  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  young  gentleman  coughed. 

**  And  as,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "as  to  Mr.  Jinkins,  I  must 
beg  of  you,  if  we  are  to  part,  to  understand  that  I  don't  abet 
Mr.  Jinkins,  by  any  means.  Far  from  it,  I  could  wish  that 
Mr.  Jinkins  would  take  a  lower  tone  in  this  establishment, 
and  would  not  be  the  means  of  raising  differences  between  me 
and  gentlemen  that  I  can  much  less  bear  to  part  with,  than  I 
could  with  Mr.  Jinkins.  Mr.  Jinkins  is  not  such  a  boarder, 
sir,"  added  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  that  all  consideration  of  private 
feeling  and  respect  give  way  before  him.  Quite  the  contrary, 
1  assure  you." 

The  young  gentleman  was  so  much  mollified  by  these  and 
similar  speeches  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  that  he  and 
that  lady  gradually  changed  positions;  so  that  she  became 
the  injured  party,  and  he  was  understood  to  be  the  injurer; 
but  in  a  complimentary,  not  in  an  offensive  sense;  his  crnel 
conduct  being  attributable  to  his  exalted  nature,  and  to  that 
alone.  So,  in  the  end,  the  young  gentleman  withdrew  his 
notice,  and  assured  Mrs.  Todgers  of  his  unalterable  regard, 
and  having  done  so,  went  back  to  business. 

"  Goodness  me.  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  "  cried  that  lady,  as  she 
came  into  the  back  room,  and  sat  wearily  dov/n,  with  her 
basket  on  her  knees,  and  her  hands  folded  upon  it,  ''  what 
a  trial  of  temper  it  is  to  keep  a  house  like  this  !  You  must 
have  heard  most  of  what  has  just  passed.  Now,  did  you  ever 
hear  the  like  ? " 

"  Never  !  "  said  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"  Of  all  the  ridiculous  young  fellows  that  ever  I  had  to 
deal  with,"  resumed  Mrs.  Todgers,  ''  that  is  the  most  ridicu- 
lous and  unreasonable.  Mr.  Jinkins  is  hard  upon  him  some- 
times, but  not  half  as  hard  as  he  deserves.  To  mention  such 
a  gentleman  as  Mr.  Jinkins  in  the  same  breath  with  hitn. 
You  know  it's  too  much  !  And  yet,  he's  as  jealous  of  him, 
bless  you,  as  if  he  was  his  equal." 

The  young  ladies  were  greatly  entertained  by  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers's  account,  no  less  than  with  certain  anecdotes  illustra- 
tive of  the  youngest  gentleman's  character,  which  she  went 
on  to  tell  them.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  quite  stern 
and  angry;  and  when  she  had  concluded,  said  in  a  solemn 
voice  : 

*'  Pray,  Mrs.  Todgers,  if  I  may  inquire,  what  does  that 
young  gentlemfin  contribute  toward  the  support  of  these 
premises  t " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  177 

"  Why,  sir,  for  what  he  has,  he  pays  about  eighteen  shil- 
lings a  week  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

**  Eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

''  Taking  one  week  with  another;  as  near  that  as  possible," 
said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  rose  from  his  chair,  folded  his  arms,  looked 
at  her  and  shook  his  head. 

'*  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  ma'am,  is  it  possible,  Mrs. 
Todgers,  that  for  such  a  miserable  consideration  as  eighteen 
shillings  a  week,  a  female  of  your  understanding  can  so  far 
demean  herself  as  to  wear  a  double  face,  even  for  an 
instant  ? " 

"  I  am  forced  to  keep  things  on  the  square  if  I  can,  sir," 
faltered  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  I  must  preserve  peace  among  them 
and  keep  my  connection  together^  if  possible,  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
The  profit  is  very  small." 

"  The  profit  !  "  cried  that  gentleman,  laying  great  stress 
upon  the  word.  *'  The  profit,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  You  amaze 
me  !  " 

He  was  so  severe  that  Mrs.  Todgers  shed  tears. 

''  The  profit  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  The  profit  of 
dissimulation  !  To  worship  the  golden  calf  of  Baal  for  eight- 
een shillings  a  week  !  " 

"  Don't  in  your  own  goodness  be  too  hard  upon  me,  Mr. 
Pecksniff,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  taking  out  her  handkerchief. 

''Oh  calf,  calf!"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mournfully.  "Oh 
Baal,  Baal  !  Oh  my  friend,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  To  barter  away 
that  precious  jewel,  self-esteem,  and  cringe  to  any  mortal 
creature — for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  " 

He  was  so  subdued  and  overcome  by  the  reflection,  that 
he  immediately  took  down  his  hat  from  its  peg  in  the  passage 
and  went  out  for  a  walk,  to  compose  his  feelings.  Any  body 
passing  him  in  the  street  might  have  known  him  for  a  good 
man  at  first  sight;  for  his  whole  figure  teemed  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  moral  homily  he  had  read  to  Mrs.  Todgers. 

Eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  Just,  most  just,  thy  censure, 
upright  Pecksniff !  Had  it  been  for  the  sake  of  a  ribbon, 
star,  or  garter;  sleeves  of  lawn,  a  great  man's  smile,  a  seat  in 
parliament,  a  tap  upon  the  shoulder  from  a  courtly  sword;  a 
place,  a  party,  or  a  thriving  lie,  or  eighteen  thousand  pounds, 
or  even  eighteen  hundred; — but  to  worship  the  golden  calf 
for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  Oh  pitiful,  pitiful ! 


lyS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHEREIN  A  CERTAIN  GENTLEMAN  BECOMES  PARTICULAR  IN 
HIS  ATTENTIONS  TO  A  CERTAIN  LADY;  AND  MORE  COMING 
EVENTS  THAN  ONE,  CAST  THEIR  SHADOWS  BEFORE^ 

The  family  were  within  two  or  three  days  of  their  depart- 
ure from  Mrs.  Todgers's,  and  the  commercial  gentlemen  were 
to  a  man  despondent  and  not  to  be  comforted,  because  of  the 
approaching  separation,  when  Bailey  junior,  at  the  jocund 
time  of  noon,  presented  himself  before  Miss  Charity  Peck- 
sniff, then  sitting  with  her  sister  in  the  banquet  chamber, 
hemming  six  new  pocket-handkerchiefs  for  Mr.  Jinkins;  and 
having  expressed  a  hope,  preliminary  and  pious,  that  he 
might  be  blest,  gave  her  i*^  his  pleasant  way  to  understand 
that  a  visitor  attended  to  pay  his  respects  to  her,  and  was  at 
that  moment  waiting  in  the  drawing-room.  Perhaps  this 
last  announcement  showed  in  a  more  striking  point  of  view 
than  many  lengthened  speeches  could  have  done,  the  trust- 
fulness and  faith  of  Bailey's  nature  ;  since  he  had,  in  fact, 
last  seen  the  visitor  upon  the  door-mat,  where,  after  signifying 
to  him  that  he  would  do  well  to  go  up-stairs,  he  had  left  him 
to  the  guidance  of  his  own  sagacity.  Hence  it  was  at  least 
an  even  chance  that  the  visitor  was  then  wandering  on  the 
roof  of  the  house,  or  vainly  seeking  to  extricate  himself  from 
a  maze  of  bed-rooms  ;  Todgers's  being  precisely  that  kind  of 
establishment  in  which  an  unpiloted  stranger  is  pretty  sure 
to  find  himself  in  some  place  where  he  least  expects  and 
least  desires  to  be. 

"  A  gentleman  for  me  !  "  cried  Charity,  pausing  in  her 
work  ;  '*my  gracious,  Bailey  !  " 

'*  Ah  !  "  said    Bailey.     "  It  is    my    gracious,  ain't  it  ! 
Wouldn't  I  be  gracious  neither,  not  if  1  was  him  !  " 

The  remark  was  rendered  somewhat  obscure  in  itself,  by 
reason  (as  the  reader  may  have  observed)  of  a  redundancy 
of  negatives  ;  but  accompanied  by  action  expressive  of  a 
faithful  couple  walking  arm-in-arm  toward  a  parochial  church 
mutually  exchanging  looks  of  love,  it  clearly  signifies  this 
youth's  conviction  that  the  caller's  purpose  was  of  an  amor- 
ous tendency.  Miss  Charity  affected  to  reprove  so  great  a 
liberty  ;  but  she  could  not  help  smiling.  He  was  a  strange 
boy  to  be  sure.  There  was  always  some  ground  of  proba- 
bility and  likelihood  mingled  with  his  absurd  behavior.  That 
was  the  best  of  it  I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  179 

"  But  I  don't  know  any  gentleman,  Bailey,"  said  Miss 
Pecksniff.     "  I  think  you  must  have  made  a  mistake." 

Mr.  Bailey  smiled  at  the  extreme  kindness  of  such  a  sup- 
position, and  regarded  the  young  ladies  with  unimpaired 
affability. 

''  My  dear  Merry,"  said  Charity,  "  who  can  it  be  ?  Isn't  it 
odd  ?  I  have  a  great  mind  not  to  go  to  him  really.  So  very 
strange  you  know  !  " 

The  younger  sister  plainly  considered  that  this  appeal  had 
its  origin  in  the  pride  of  being  called  upon  and  asked  for;  and 
that  it  was  intended  as  an  assertion  of  superiority,  and  a 
retaliation  upon  her  for  having  captured  the  commercial 
gentlemen.  Therefore,  she  replied,  with  great  affection  and 
politeness,  that  it  was,  no  doubt,  very  strange  indeed  ;  and 
that  she  was  totally  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  the  ridiculous 
person  unknown  could  mean  by  it. 

"  Quite  impossible  to  divine  !  "  said  Charity,  and  with 
some  sharpness,  "  though  still,  at  the  same  time,  you  needn't 
be  angry,  my  dear." 

"  Thank  you,"  retorted  Merry,  singing  at  her  needle.  "  I 
am  quite  aware  of  that,  my  love." 

"  I  am  afraid  your  head  is  turned,  you  silly  thing,"  said 
Cherry. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear,"  said  Merry,  with  engaging  can- 
dor, "  that  I  have  been  afraid  of  that,  myself,  all  along  !  So 
much  incense  and  nonsense,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  is  enough 
to  turn  a  stronger  head  than  mine.  What  a  relief  it  must  be 
to  you,  my  dear,  to  be  so  very  comfortable  in  that  respect, 
and  not  to  be  worried  by  those  odious  men  !  How  do  you 
do  it,  Cherry  ?'; 

This  artless  inquiry  might  have  led  to  turbulent  results, 
but  for  the  strong  emotions  of  delight  evinced  by  Bailey 
junior,  whose  relish  in  the  turn  the  conversation  had  lately 
taken  was  so  acute,  that  it  impelled  and  forced  him  to  the 
instantaneous  performance  of  a  dancing  step,  extremely  dif- 
ficult in  its  nature,  and  only  to  be  achieved  in  a  moment  of 
ecstasy,  which  is  commonly  called  the  Frog's  Hornpipe.  A 
manifestation  so  lively,  brought  to  their  immediate  recollec- 
tion the  great  virtuous  precept,  "  Keep  up  appearances  what- 
ever you  do,"  in  which  they  had  been  educated.  They  for- 
bore at  once,  and  jointly  signified  to  Mr.  Bailey,  that  if  he 
should  presume  to  practice  that  figure  any  more  in  their  pres- 
ence, they  would  instantly  acquaint  Mrs.  Todgers  with  the 
fact,  and  would  demand  his  condign  punishment  at  the  hands 


i8o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

of  that  lady.  The  young  gentleman  having  expressed  the 
bitterness  of  his  contrition  by  affecting  to  wipe  away  scald- 
ing tears  with  his  apron,  and  afterward  feigning  to  wring  a 
vast  amount  of  water  from  that  garment,  held  the  door  open 
while  Miss  Charity  passed  out  ;  and  so  that  damsel  went  in 
state  up-stairs  to  receive  her  mysterious  adorer. 

By  some  strange  concurrence  of  favorable  circumstances  he 
had  found  out  the  drawing-room,  and  was  sitting  there  alone. 

"  Ah,  cousin  !  "  he  said.  *'  Here  I  am,  you  see.  You 
thought  I  was  lost,  I'll  be  bound.  Well  !  how  do  you  find 
yourself  by  this  time  ?  " 

Miss  Charity  replied  that  she  was  quite  well,  and  gave  Mr. 
Jonas  Chuzzlewit  her  hand. 

"That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  and  you've  got  over  the 
fatigues  of  the  journey,  have  you  ?  I  say.  How's  the  other 
one  ?  " 

"  My  sister  is  very  well,  I  believe,"  returned  the  young 
lady.  "  I  have  not  heard  her  complain  of  any  indisposition, 
sir.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  her,  and  ask  her  your- 
self ? " 

"  No,  no,  cousin  !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas,  sitting  down  beside 
her  on  the  window-seat.  "  Don't  be  in  a  hurry.  There's  no 
occasion  for  that,  you  know.     *'  What  a  cruel  girl  you  are." 

"  It's  impossible  for  you  to  know,"  said  Cherry,  "  whether 
I  am  or  not." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Jonas.  "  I  say!  Did  you 
think  I  was  lost?     You  haven't  told  me  that." 

"  I  didn't  think  at  all  about  it,"  answered  Cherry. 

''  Didn't  you  though  ? "  said  Jonas,  pondering  upon  this 
strange  reply.     '' — Did  the  other  one  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  what  my  sister 
may,  or  may  not  have  thought  on  such  a  subject,"  cried 
Cherry.  '^  She  never  said  any  thing  to  me  about  it  one  way 
or  other." 

"  Didn't  she  laugh  about  it  ?  "  inquired  Jonas. 

'*  No.     She  didn't  even  laugh  about  it,"  answered  Charity. 

*'  She's  a  terrible  one  to  laugh,  ain't  she  ?  "  said  Jonas, 
lowering  his  voice. 

"  She  is  very  lively,"  said  Cherry. 

"  Liveliness  is  a  pleasant  thing — when  it  don't  lead  to 
spending  money.     An't  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Jonas. 

"Very  much  so,  indeed,"  said  Cherry,  with  a  dcnuircness 
of  manner  that  gave  a  very  disinterested  character  to  her 
assent. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  i8i 

"  Such  liveliness  as  yours  I  mean,  you  know,"  observed 
Mr.  Jonas,  as  he  nudged  her  with  his  elbow.  "  I  should  have 
come  to  see  you  before,  but  I  didn't  know  where  you  was. 
How  quick  you  hurried  off  that  morning  ? " 

*'  I  was  amenable  to  my  papa's  directions,"  said  Miss 
Charity. 

"  I  wish  he  had  given  me  his  direction,"  returned  her 
cousin,  "  and  then  I  should  have  found  you  out  before.  Why 
I  shouldn't  have  found  you  even  now,  if  I  hadn't  met  him  in 
the  street  this  morning.  What  a  sleek,  sly  chap  he  is  !  Just 
like  a  tomcat,  an't  he  ?  " 

**  I  must  trouble  you  to  have  the  goodness  to  speak  more 
respectfully  of  my  papa,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Charity.  "  I  can't 
allow  such  a  tone  as  that,  even  in  jest." 

*'  Ecod,  you  may  say  what  you  like  of  my  father,  then, 
and  so  I  give  you  leave,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  think  it's  liquid 
aggravation  that  circulates  through  his  veins,  and  not 
regular  blood.  How  old  should  you  think  my  father  was, 
cousin  ?" 

"  Old,  no  doubt,"  replied  Miss  Charity  ;  "  but  a  fine  old 
gentleman," 

"A  fine  old  gentleman  !  "  repeated  Jonas,  giving  the  crown 
of  his  hat  an  angry  knock.  "  Ah  !  It's  time  he  was  think- 
ing of  being  drawn  out  a  little  finer,  too.  Why,  he's 
eighty  !  " 

"  Is  he,  indeed '"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  And  ecod,"  cried  Jonas,  "  now  he's  gone  so  far  without 
giving  in,  I  don't  see  much  to  prevent  his  being  ninety  ;  no, 
nor  even  a  hundred.  "  Why,  a  man  with  any  feeling  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  being  eighty,  let  alone  more,  Where's  his 
religion  I  should  like  to  know,  when  he  goes  flying  in  the  face 
of  the  Bible  like  that  ?  Three-score  and  ten's  the  mark;  and 
no  man  with  a  conscience,  and  a  proper  sense  of  what's 
expected  of  him,  has  any  business  to  live  longer." 

Is  any  one  surprised  at  Mr.  Jonas  making  such  a  reference 
to  such  a  book  for  such  a  purpose?  Does  any  one  doubt  the 
old  saw,  that  the  devil  (being  a  layman)  quotes  scripture  for 
his  own  ends  ?  If  he  will  take  the  trouble  to  look  about  him 
he -may  find  a  greater  number  of  confirmations  of  the  fact  in 
the  occurrences  of  any  single  day,  than  the  steam-gun  can 
discharge  balls  in  a  minute. 

*'  But  there's  enough  of  my  father,"  said  Jonas;  "it's  of  no 
use  to  go  putting  one's-self  out  of  the  way  by  talking  about 
him.     I  called  to  ask  you  to  come  and  take  a  walk,  cousii\ 


iS2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

and  see  some  of  the  sights;  and  to  come  to  our  house  after- 
ward, and  have  a  bit  of  something.  Pecksniff  will  most 
likely  look  in  in  the  evening,  he  says,  and  bring  you  home. 
See,  here's  his  writing;  I  made  him  put  it  down  this  morning, 
when  he  told  me  he  shouldn't  be  back  before  I  came  here; 
in  case  you  wouldn't  believe  me.  "  There's  nothing  like  proot 
is  there  ?  Ha,  ha  !  I  say — you'll  bring  the  other  one,  you 
know  !  " 

Miss  Charity  cast  her  eyes  upon  her  father's  autograph, 
which  merely  said  :  "  Go,  my  children,  with  your  cousin. 
Let  there  be  union  among  us  when  it  is  possible  ;  "  and  after 
enough  of  hesitation  to  impart  a  proper  value  to  her  consent, 
withdrew,  to  prepare  her  sister  and  herself  for  the  excursion. 
She  soon  returned,  accompanied  by  Miss  Mercy,  who  was  by 
no  means  pleased  to  leave  the  brilliant  triumphs  of  Todgers's 
for  the  society  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his  respected  father. 

*'  Aha  !  "  cried  Jonas.     There  you  are,  are  you  .'' " 

"  Yes,  fright,"  said  Mercy,  "  here  1  am  ;  and  I  would 
much  rather  be  anywhere  else,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  cried  Mr.  Jonas.  ^'  You  can't, 
you  know.     It  isn't  possible." 

"  You  can  have  what  opinion  you  like,  fright,"  retorted 
Mercy.  "  I  am  content  to  keep  mine  ;  and  mine  is  that  you 
are  a  very  unpleasant,  odious,  disagreeable  person."  Here 
she  laughed  heartily,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  herself  very 
much. 

"  Oh,  you're  a  sharp  gal !  "  said  Mr.  Jonas.  "  She's  a 
regular  teazer,  an't  she,  cousin  ? " 

Miss  Charity  replied  in  effect,  that  she  was  unable  to  say 
what  the  habits  and  propensities  of  a  regular  teazer  might 
be  ;  and  that  even  if  she  possessed  such  information,  it 
would  ill  become  her  to  admit  the  existence  of  any  creature 
with  such  an  unceremonious  name  in  her  family  ;  far  less  in 
the  person  of  a  beloved  sister  ;  '*  whatever,"  added  Cherry 
with  an  angry  glance,  "whatever  her  real  nature  may  be." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  said  Merry,  "  the  only  observation  1 
have  to  make,  is,  that  if  we  don't  go  out  at  once,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly take  my  bonnet  off  again,  and  stay  at  home." 

This  threat  had  the  desired  effect  of  preventing  any  further 
altercation,  for  Mr.  Jonas  immediately  proposed  an  adjourn- 
ment, and  the  same  being  carried  unanimously,  they 
departed  from  the  house  straightway.  On  the  door-step,  Mr. 
Jonas  gave  an  arm  to  each  cousin  ;  which  act  of  gallantry 
being  observed  by  Bailey  junior,  from  the  garret  window,  was 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  183 

by  him  saluted  with  a  loud  and  violent  fit  of  coughing,  to 
which  paroxysm  he  was  still  the  victim  when  they  turned 
the  corner. 

Mr.  Jonas  inquired  in  the  first  instance  if  they  were  good 
walkers,  and  being  answered,  '*  Yes,"  submitted  their  pedes- 
trian powers  to  a  pretty  severe  test  ;  for  he  showed  them  as 
many  sights,  in  the  way  of  bridges,  churches,  streets,  out- 
sides  of  theaters,  and  other  free  spectacles,  in  that  one  after- 
noon, as  most  people  see  in  a  twelvemonth.  It  was  observ- 
able in  this  gentleman,  that  he  had  an  insurmountable  dis- 
taste to  the  insides  of  buildings  ;  and  that  he  was  perfectly 
acquainted  with  the  merits  of  all  shows,  in  respect  of  which 
there  was  any  charge  for  admission,  which  it  seemed  were 
every  one  detestable,  and  of  the  very  lowest  grade  of  merit. 
He  was  so  thoroughly  possessed  with  this  opinion,  that 
when  Miss  Charity  happened  to  mention  the  circumstance 
of  their  having  been  twice  or  thrice  to  the  theater  with  Mr. 
Jinkins  and  party,  he  inquired,  as  a  matter  of  course,  "  where 
the  orders  came  from?"  and  being  told  that  Mr.  Jinkins 
and  party  paid,  was  beyond  description  entertained,  observ- 
ing that  ''  they  must  be  nice  fiats,  certainly  ;  "  and  often  in 
the  course  of  the  walk,  bursting  out  again  into  a  perfect  con- 
vulsion of  laughter  at  the  surpassing  silliness  of  those  gentle- 
men, and  (doubtless)  at  his  own  superior  wisdom. 

When  they  had  been  out  for  some  hours  and  were  thor- 
oughly fatigued,  it  being  by  that  time  twilight,  Mr.  Jonas 
intimated  that  he  would  show  them  one  of  the  best  pieces  of 
fun  with  which  he  was  acquainted.  This  joke  was  of  a 
practical  kind,  and  its  humor  lay  in  taking  a  hackney-coach 
to  the  extreme  limits  of  possibility  for  a  shilling.  Happily 
it  brought  them  to  the  place  where  Mr.  Jonas  dwelt,  or  the 
young  ladies  might  have  rather  missed  the  point  and  cream 
of  the  jest. 

The  old-established  firm  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son, 
Manchester  warehousemen,  and  so  forth,  had  its  place  of 
business  in  a  very  narrow  street  somewhere  behind  the  post 
office  ;  where  every  house  was  in  the  brightest  summer 
morning  very  gloomy  ;  and  where  light  porters  watered  the 
pavement,  each  before  his  own  employer's  premises,  in  fan- 
tastic patterns,  in  the  dog-days  ;  and  where  spruce  gentle- 
men with  their  hands  in  the  pockets  of  symmetrical  trow- 
sers,  were  always  to  be  seen  in  warm  weather,  contemplating 
their  undeniable  boots  in  dusty  warehouse  doorways  ;  which 
appeared  to  be  the  hardest  work  they  did,  except  now  and 


i84  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

then  carrying  pens  behind  their  ears.  A  dim,  dirty,  smoky, 
tumble-down,  rotten  old  house  it  was,  as  any  body  would 
desire  to  see  ;  but  there  the  firm  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and 
Son  transacted  all  their  business  and  their  pleasure  too,  such 
as  it  was  ;  for  neither  the  young  man  nor  the  old  had  any 
other  residence,  or  any  care  or  thought  beyond  its  narrow 
limits. 

Business,  as  may  be  readily  supposed,  was  the  main  thing  in 
this  establishment ;  insomuch  indeed  that  it  shouldered  com- 
fort out  of  doors,  and  jostled  the  domestic  arrangements  at 
every  turn.  Thus  in  the  miserable  bed-rooms  there  were 
files  of  moth-eaten  letters  hanging  up  against  the  walls;  and 
linen  rollers,  and  fragments  of  old  patterns,  and  odds  and 
ends  of  spoiled  goods,  strewn  upon  the  ground;  while  the 
meager  bedsteads,  washing-stands,  and  scraps  of  carpet, 
were  huddled  away  into  corners  as  objects  of  secondary  con- 
sideration, not  to  be  thought  of  but  as  disagreeable  necessi- 
ties, furnishing  no  profit,  and  intruding  on  the  one  affair  of 
life.  The  single  sitting-room  was  on  the  same  principle,  a 
chaos  of  boxes  and  old  papers,  and  had  more  counting-house 
stools  in  it  than  chairs;  not  to  mention  a  great  monster  of  a 
desk  straddling  over  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  an  iron  safe 
sunk  into  the  wall  above  the  fire-place.  The  solitary  little 
table  for  purposes  of  refection  and  social  enjoyment,  bore 
as  fair  a  proportion  to  the  desk  and  other  business  furniture, 
as  the  graces  and  harmless  relaxations  of  life  had  ever  done, 
in  the  persons  of  the  old  man  and  his  son,  to  their  pursuit  of 
wealth.  It  was  meanly  laid  out  now,  for  dinner;  and  in  a 
chair  before  the  fire,  sat  Anthony  himself,  who  rose  to  greet 
his  son  and  his  fair  cousins  as  they  entered. 

An  ancient  proverb  warns  us  that  we  should  not  expect  to 
find  old  heads  upon  young  shoulders;  to  which  it  maybe 
added  that  we  seldom  meet  with  that  unnatural  combination, 
but  we  feel  a  strong  desire  to  knock  them  off;  merely  from  an 
inherent  love  we  have  of  seeing  things  in  their  right  places. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  many  men,  in  no  wise  choleric  by 
nature,  felt  this  impulse  rising  up  within  them,  when  they 
first  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Jonas;  but  if  they  had 
known  him  more  intimately  in  his  own  house,  and  had  sat 
with  him  at  his  own  board,  it  would  assuredly  have  been 
paramount  to  all  other  considerations. 

"  Well,  ghost  !"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  dutifully  addressing  his 
parent  by  that  titlex    "  Is  dinner  nearly  ready  ?  " 

^'  I  should  think  it  was,"  rejoined  the  old  man. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  185 

"  What's  the  good  of  that  ?  "  rejoined  the  son.  "  I  should 
think  it  was.     I  want  to  know." 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  know  for  certain,"  said  Anthony. 

"You  don't  know  for  certain,"  rejoined  his  son  in  a  lower 
tone.  "  No.  You  don't  know  any  thing  for  certain,  you 
don't.     Give  me  your  candle  here.     I  want  it  for  the  gals." 

Anthony  handed  him  a  battered  old  office  candlestick, 
with  which  Mr.  Jonas  preceded  the  young  ladies  to  the 
nearest  bed-room,  where  he  left  them  to  take  off  their  shawls 
and  bonnets;  and  returning,  occupied  himself  in  opening  a 
bottle  of  wine,  sharpening  the  carving-knife,  and  muttering 
compliments  to  his  father,  until  they  and  the  dinner 
appeared  together.  The  repast  consisted  of  a  hot  leg  of 
mutton  with  greens  and  potatoes;  and  the  dishes  having 
been  set  upon  the  table  by  a  slipshod  old  woman,  they  were 
left  to  enjoy  it  after  their  own  manner.* 

"  Bachelor's  Hall  you  know,  cousin,"  said  Mr.  Jonas  to 
Charity.  "  I  say — the  other  one  will  be  having  a  laugh  at 
this  when  she  gets  home,  won't  she  .<*  Here;  you  sit  on  the 
right  side  of  me,  and  I'll  have  her  upon  the  left.  Other  one, 
will  you  come  here  ? " 

"  You're  such  a  fright,"  replied  Mercy,  "  that  I  know  I 
shall  have  no  appetite  if  I  sit  so  near  you;  but  I  suppose  I 
must." 

"An't  she  lively  ?  "  whispered  Mr.  Jonas  to  the  elder  sis- 
ter, with  his  favorite  elbow  emphasis, 

"Oh  I  really  don't  know  !  "  replied  Miss  Pecksniff,  tartly. 
"I  am  tired  of  being  asked  such  ridiculous  questions." 

"  What's  that  precious  old  father  of  mine  about  now  ? " 
said  Mr.  Jonas,  seeing  that  his  parent  was  traveling  up  and 
do"wn  the  room,  instead  of  taking  his  seat  at  table. 
"  What  are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  I've  lost  my  glasses,  Jonas,"  said  old  Anthony. 

"Sit  down  without  your  glasses,  can't  you  t  "  returned  his 
son.  "You  don't  eat  or  drink  out  of  'em,  I  think;  and 
Where's  that  sleepy-headed  old  Chuffey  got  to  !  Now,  stupid. 
Oh  !  you  know  your  name,  do  you  ?  " 

It  would  seem  that  he  didn't,  for  he  didn't  come  until  the 
father  called.  As  he  spoke,  the  door  of  a  small  glass  office, 
which  was  partitioned  off  from  the  rest  of  the  room,  was 
slowly  opened,  and  a  little  blear-eyed,  weazen-faced,  ancient 
man  came  creeping  out.  He  was  of  a  remote  fashion,  and 
dusty,  like  the  rest  of  the  furniture;  he  was  dressed  in  a 
decayed  suit  of  black;  v/ith  breeches  garnished  at  the  knees 


i86  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

with  rusty  whisps  of  ribbon,  the  very  paupers  of  shoe-strings; 
on  the  lower  portion  of  his  spindle  legs  were  dingy  worsted 
stockings  of  the  same  color.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
put  away  and  forgotten  half  a  century  before,  and  somebody 
had  just  found  him  in  a  lumber-closet. 

Such  as  he  was,  he  came  slowly  creeping  on  toward  the  table, 
until  at  last  he  crept  into  the  vacant  chair,  from  which,  as  his 
dim  faculties  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  strangers, 
and  those  strangers  ladies,  he  rose  again,  apparently  intend- 
ing to  make  a  bow.  But  he  sat  down  once  more,  without 
having  made  it,  and  breathing  on  his  shriveled  hands  to 
warm  them,  remained  with  his  poor  blue  nose  immovable 
above  his  plate,  looking  at  nothing  with  eyes  that  saw  noth- 
ing, and  a  face  that  meant  nothing.  Take  him  in  that  state, 
and  he  was  an  embodiment  of  nothing.     Nothing  else. 

''  Our  clerk,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  as  host  and  master  of  the 
ceremonies.    *' Old  Chuff  ey." 

"  Is  he  deaf  ?  "  inquired  one  of  the  young  ladies. 

**  No,  I  don't  know  that  he  is.  He  an't  deaf,  is  he, 
father .? " 

"  I  never  heard  him  say  he  was,"  replied  the  old  man. 

*'  Blind  .''  "  inquired  the  young  ladies. 

**  N — no.  I  never  understood  that  he  was  at  all  blind," 
said  Jonas,  carelessly.  "  You  don't  consider  him  so,  do  you 
father?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Anthony. 

*' What  is  he  then?" 

"Why,  I'll  tell  you  what  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  apart  to 
the  young  ladies,  "  he's  precious  old  for  one  thing  ;  and  I 
an't  best  pleased  with  him  for  that,  for  I  think  my  father 
must  have  caught  it  of  him.  He's  a  strange  old  chap,  for 
another,"  he  added  in  a  louder  voice,  *^  and  don't  understand 
any  one  hardly,  but  /lim  / "  He  pointed  to  his  honored 
parent  with  the  carving-fork,  in  order  that  they  might  know 
whom  he  meant. 

*'  How  very  strange  !  "  cried  the  sisters. 

"Why,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "he's  been  addling  his 
old  brains  with  figures  and  book-keeping  all  his  life  ;  and 
twenty  years  ago  or  so  he  went  and  took  a  fever.  All  the 
time  he  was  out  of  his  1  ead  (which  was  three  weeks)  he 
never  left  off  casting  up  ;  and  he  got  to  so  many  million  at 
last  that  I  don't  believe  he's  ever  been  quite  right  since.  Wc 
don't  do  much  business  now  though,  and  he  an't  a  bad 
clerk." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  187 

"  A  very  good  one,"  said  Anthony. 

"  Well  !  He  an't  a  dear  one  at  all  events,"  observed 
Jonas  ;  "  and  he  earns  his  salt,  which  is  enough  for  our  look- 
out. I  was  telling  you  that  he  hardly  understands  any  one 
except  my  father  ;  he  always  understands  him  though,  and 
wakes  up  quite  wonderful.  He's  been  used  to  his  ways  so 
long,  you  see  !  Why,  I've  seen  him  play  whist,  with  my 
father  for  a  partner  ;  and  a  good  rubber  too  ;  when  he  had 
no  more  notion  what  sort  of  people  he  was  playing  against, 
than  you  have." 

**  Has  he  no  appetite  ? "  asked  Merry. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jonas,  plying  his  own  knife  and  fork  very 
fast.  ''  He  eats — when  he's  helped.  But  he  don't  care 
whether  he  waits  a  minute  or  an  hour,  as  long  as  father's 
here  ;  so  when  I'm  at  all  sharp  set,  as  I  am  to-day,  I  come 
to  him  after  I've  taken  the  edge  off  my  own  hunger,  you 
know.     Now,  Chuffey,  stupid,  are  you  ready  ? " 

Chuffey  remained  immovable. 

"  Always  a  perverse  old  file,  he  was,"  said  Mr.  Jonas, 
coolly  helping  himself  to  another  slice,  "  ask  him,  father." 

*'  Are  you  ready  for  your  dinner,  Chuffey  ? "  asked  the  old 
man. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Chuffey,  lighting  up  into  a  sentient  human 
creature  at  the  first  sound  of  the  voice,  so  that  it  was  at  once 
curious  and  quite  a  moving  sight  to  see  him.  "  Yes,  yes. 
Quite  ready,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Quite  ready,  sir.  All 
ready,  all  ready,  all  ready."  With  that  he  stopped,  smil- 
ingly, and  listened  for  some  further  address  ;  but  being 
spoken  to  no  more,  the  light  forsook  his  face  by  little  and 
little,  until  he  was  nothing  again. 

"  He'll  be  very  disagreeable,  mind,"  said  Jonas,  address- 
ing his  cousins  as  he  handed  the  old  man's  portion  to  his 
father.  ''  He  always  chokes  himself  when  it  an't  broth. 
Look  at  him  now  !  Did  you  ever  see  a  horse  with  such  a 
wall-eyed  expression  as  he's  got  ?  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
joke  of  it,  I  wouldn't  have  let  him  come  in  to-day  ;  but  I 
thought  he'd  amuse  you." 

The  poor  old  subject  of  this  humane  speech,  was,  happily 
for  himself,  as  unconscious  of  its  purport,  as  of  most  other 
remarks  that  were  made  in  his  presence.  But  the  mutton 
being  tough,  and  his  gums  weak,  he  quickly  verified  the 
statement  relative  to  his  choking  propensities,  and  underwent 
so  much  in  his  attempts  to  dine,  that  Mr,  Jonas  was 
infinitely  amused  ;  protesting  that  he  had  seldom  seen  him 


i88  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

better  company  in  all  his  life,  and  that  he  was  enough  to 
make  a  man  split  his  sides  with  laughing.  Indeed,  he  went 
so  far  as  to  assure  the  sisters  that  in  this  point  of  view  he 
considered  Chuffey  superior  to  his  own  father  ;  which,  as 
he  significantly  added,  was  saying  a  great  deal. 

It  was  strange  enough  that  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  himself 
so  old  a  man,  should  take  a  pleasure  in  these  gibings  of  his 
estimable  son,  at  the  expense  of  the  poor  shadow  at  their 
table.  But  he  did,  unquestionably  ;  though  not  so  much — to 
do  him  justice — with  reference  to  their  ancient  clerk,  as  in 
exultation  at  the  sharpness  of  Jonas.  For  the  same  reason, 
that  young  man's  coarse  allusions,  even  to  himself,  filled  him 
with  a  stealthy  glee  ;  causing  him  to  rub  his  hands  and 
chuckle  covertly,  as  if  he  said  in  his  sleeve,  "  /  taught  him. 
/  trained  him.  This  is  the  heir  of  my  bringing-up.  Sly, 
cunning,  and  covetous,  he'll  not  squander  my  money.  I 
worked  for  this  ;  I  hoped  for  this  ;  it  has  been  the  great  end 
and  aim  of  my  life." 

What  a  noble  end  and  aim  it  was  to  contemplate  in  the 
attainment,  truly  !  But  there  be  some  who  manufacture  idols 
after  the  fashion  of  themselves,  and  fail  to  worship  them 
when  they  are  made  ;  charging  their  deformity  on  outraged 
nature.     Anthony  was  better  than  these  at  any  rate. 

Chuffey  boggle(^  over  his  plate  so  long,  that  Mr.  Jonas, 
losing  patience,  took  it  from  him  at  last  with  his  own  hands, 
and  requested  his  father  to  signify  to  that  venerable  person 
that  he  had  better  ^'  peg  away  at  his  bread;"  which  Anthony 
did. 

*'  Ay,  ay  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  brightening  up  as  before, 
when  this  was  communicated  to  him  in  the  same  voice  ; 
"  quite  right,  quite  right.  He's  your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit !     Bless  him  for  a  sharp  lad  !     Bless  him,  bless  him  !  " 

Mr.  Jonas  considered  this  so  particularly  childish  (perhaps 
with  some  reason),  that  he  only  laughed  the  more,  and  told 
his  cousins  that  he  was  afraid  one  of  these  fine  days,  Chuffey 
would  be  the  death  of  him.  The  cloth  was  then  removed, 
and  the  bottle  of  wine  set  upon  the  table,  from  which  Mr. 
Jonas  filled  the  young  ladies'  glasses,  calling  on  them  not  to 
spare  it,  as  they  might  be  certain  there  was  plenty  more  where 
that  came  from.  But  he  added  with  some  haste  after  this 
sally,  that  it  was  only  his  joke,  and  they  wouldn't  suppose 
him  to  be  in  earnest,  he  was  sure. 

*'  I  shall  drink,"  said  Anthony,  "  to  Pecksniff.  Your 
father,  my  dears.     A  clever  man,  Pecksniff.     A  wary  man  ! 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  189 

A  hypocrite,  though,  eh  ?  A  hypocrite,  girls,  eh  ?  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !  Well,  so  he  is.  Now,  among  friends,  he  is.  I  don't 
think  the  worse  of  him  for  that,  unless  it  is  that  he  overdoes 
it.  You  may  overdo  any  thing,  my  darlings.  You  may 
overdo  even  hypocrisy.     Ask  Jonas  !  " 

"  You  can't  overdo  taking  care  of  yourself,"  observed  that 
hopeful  gentleman  with  his  mouth  full. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  my  dears  !  "  cried  Anthony,  quite 
enraptured.  "  Wisdom,  wisdom  !  A  good  exception,  Jonas. 
No.     It's  not  easy  to  overdo  that."  % 

'^  Except,"  whispered  Mr.  Jonas  to  his  favorite  cousin, 
"  except  when  one  lives  too  long.  Ha,  ha  !  Tell  the  other 
one  that.     I  say  !  " 

"  Good  gracious  me  '  "  said  Cherry,  in  a  petulant  manner. 
"  You  can  tell  her,  yourself,  if  you  wish,  can't  you  ? " 

"  She  seems  to  make  such  game  of  one,"  replied  Mr. 
Jonas. 

"  Then  why  need  you  trouble  yourself  about  her  !  "  said 
Charity.  "  I  am  sure  she  doesn't  trouble  herself  much  about 
you." 

"  Don't  she  though  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Good  gracious  me,  need  I  tell  you  that  she  don't  ?  " 
returned  the  young  lady. 

Mr.  Jonas  made  no  verbal  rejoinder,  but  he  glanced  at 
Mercy  with  an  odd  expression  in  his  face  ;  and  said  that 
wouldn't  break  his  heart,  she  might  depend  upon  it.  Then 
he  looked  on  Charity  with  even  greater,  favor  than  before, 
and  besought  her,  as  his  polite  manner  was,  "  to  come  a  little 
closer." 

**  There's  another  thing  that's  not  easily  overdone,  father," 
remarked  Jonas,  after  a  short  silence. 

*'  What's  that  ?  "  asked  the  father  ;  grinning  already  in 
anticipation. 

'*  A  bargain,"  said  the  son.  *'  Here's  the  rule  for  bargains. 
*  Do  other  men,  for  they  would  do  you.'  That's  the  true 
business  precept.     All  others  are  counterfeits." 

The  delighted  father  applauded  this  sentiment  to  the  echo; 
and  was  so  much  tickled  by  it,  that  he  was  at  the  pains  of 
imparting  the  same  to  his  ancient  clerk,  who  rubbed  his 
hands,  nodded  his  palsied  head,  winked  his  watery  eyes,  and 
cried  in  his  whistling  tones,  "  Good  !  Good  !  Your  own 
son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  I  "  with  every  feeble  demonstration  of 
delight  that  he  was  capable  of  making.  But  this  old  man's 
enthusiasm  had  the  redeeming  quality  of  being  felt  in  sym- 


190  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

pathy  with  the  only  creature  to  whom  he  was  linked  by  ties 
of  long  association,  and  by  his  present  helplessness.  And 
if  there  had  been  any  body  there,  who  cared  to  think  about 
it,  some  dregs  of  a  better  nature  unawakened,  might  perhaps 
have  been  descried  through  that  very  medium,  melancholy 
though  it  was,  yet  lingering  at  the  bottom  of  the  worn-out 
cask,  called  Chuffey. 

As  matters  stood,  nobody  thought  or  said  any  thing  upon 
the  subject;  so  Chuffey  fell  back  into  a  dark  corner  on  one 
sidpp  ot  the  fire-place,  where  he  always  spent  his  evenings,  and 
was  neither  seen  nor  heard  again  that  night;  save  once,  when 
a  cup  of  tea  was  given  him,  in  which  he  was  seen  to  soak 
his  bread  mechanically.  There  was  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  he  went  to  sleep  at  these  seasons,  or  that  he  heard,  or 
saw,  or  felt,  or  thought.  He  remained,  as  it  were,  frozen  up 
— if  any  term  expressive  of  such  a  vigorous  process  can  be 
applied  to  him — until  he  was  again  thawed  for  the  moment 
by  a  word  or  touch  from  Anthony. 

Miss  Charity  made  tea  by  desire  of  Mr.  Jonas,  and  felt 
and  looked  so  like  the  lady  of  the  house,  that  she  was  in  the 
prettiest  confusion  imaginable;  the  more  so,  from  Mr.  Jonas 
sitting  close  beside  her,  and  whispering  a  variety  of  admiring 
expressions  in  her  ear.  Miss  Mercy,  for  her  part,  felt  the 
entertainment  of  the  evening  to.  be  so  distinctly  and  exclu- 
sively theirs,  that  she  silently  deplored  the  commercial  gen- 
tlemen— at  that  moment,  no  doubt,  wearying  for  her  return 
— and  yawned  over  yesterday's  newspaper.  As  to  Anthony, 
he  w^ent  to  sleep  outright,  so  Jonas  and  Cherry  had  a  clear 
stage  to  themselves  as  long  as  they  chose  to  keep  possession 
of  it. 

When  the  tea-tray  was  taken  away,  as  it  was  at  last,  Mr. 
Jonas  produced  a  dirty  pack  of  cards,  and  entertained  the 
sisters  with  divers  small  feats  of  dexterity;  whereof  the  main 
purpose  of  every  one  was  that  you  were  to  decoy  somebody 
into  laying  a  wager  with  you  that  you  couldn't  do  it;  and 
were  then  immediately  to  win  and  pocket  his  money.  Mr. 
Jonas  informed  them  that  these  accomplishments  were  in 
high  vogue  in  the  most  intellectual  circles,  and  that  large 
amounts  were  constantly  changing  hands  on  such  hazards. 
And  it  may  be  remarked  that  he  fully  believed  this;  for  there 
is  a  simplicity  of  cunning  no  less  than  a  simplicity  of  inno- 
CQJice;  and  in  all  matters  where  a  lively  faith  in  knavery  and 
meanness  was  required  as  the  ground-work  of  belief,  Mr. 
Jonas  was  one  of  the  most  credulous  of  men.    His  ignorance, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVViT.         _  191 

which    was  stupendous,  may  be  taken  into  account,  if  the 
reader  pleases,  separately. 

This  fine  young  man  had  all  the  inclination  to  be  a  profli- 
gate of  the  first  water,  and  only  lacked  the  one  good  trait  in 
the  common  catalogue  of  debauched  vices — open-handed- 
ness — to  be  a  notable  vagabond.  But  there  his  griping  and 
penurious  habits  stepped  in;  and  as  one  poison  will  some- 
times neutralize  another,  when  wholesome  remedies  will  not 
avail,  so  he  was  restrained  by  a  bad  passion  from  quaffing 
his  full  measure  of  evil,  when  virtue  might  have  sought  to 
hold  him  back  in  vain. 

By  the  time  he  had  unfolded  all  the  peddling  schemes  he 
knew  upon  the  cards,  it  was  growing  late  in  the  evening; 
and  Mr.  Pecksniff  not  making  his  appearance,  the  young 
ladies  expressed  a  wish  to  return  home.  But  this,  Mr. 
Jonas,  in  his  gallantry,  would  by  no  means  allow,  until  they 
had  partaken  of  some  bread  and  cheese  and  porter;  and  even 
then  he  was  excessively  unwilling  to  allow  them  to  depart; 
often  beseeching  Miss  Charity  to  come  a  little  closer,  or  to 
stop  a  little  longer,  and  preferring  many  other  complimen- 
tary petitions  of  that  nature,  in  his  own  hospitable  and  earn- 
est way.  When  all  his  efforts  to  detain  them  were  fruitless, 
he  put  on  his  hat  and  great  coat  preparatory  to  escorting 
them  to  Todgers's;  remarking  that  he  knew  they  would 
rather  walk  thither  than  ride;  and  that  for  his  part  he  was 
quite  of  their  opinion. 

*'  Good-night,"  said  Anthony.  "  Good-night;  remember 
me  to — ha,  ha,  ha  ! — to  Pecksniff.  Take  care  of  your  cous- 
in, my  dears;  beware  of  Jonas;  he's  a  dangerous  fellow. 
Don't  quarrel  for  him,  in  any  case!  " 

"  Oh,  the  creature!  "  cried  Mercy.  "  The  idea  of  quarrel- 
ing for  him  !  You  may  take  him,  Cherry,  my  love,  all  to 
yourself.     I  make  you  a  present  of  my  share." 

''What!     I'm  a  sour  grape,  am  I,  cousin?"  said  Jonas. 

Miss  Charity  was  more  entertained  by  this  repartee  than 
one  would  have  supposed  likely,  considering  its  advanced  age 
and  simple  character.  But  in  her  sisterly  affection  she  took 
Mr.  Jonas  to  task  for  leaning  so  very  hard  upon  a  broken 
reed,  and  said  that  he  must  not  be  so  cruel  to  poor  Merry  any 
more,  or  she  (Charity)  would  positively  be  obliged  to  hate 
him.  Mercy,  who  really  had  her  share  of  good  humor,  only 
retorted  with  a  laugh;  and  they  walked  home  in  consequence 
without  any  angry  passage  of  words  upon  the  way.  Mr. 
Jonas  being  in  the  middle  and  having  a  cousin  on  each  arm. 


192  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sometimes  squeezed  the  wrong  one;  so  tightly,  too,  as  to 
cause  her  not  a  little  inconvenience;  but  as  he  talked  to 
Charity  in  whispers  the  whole  time,  and  paid  her  great  atten- 
tion, no  doubt  this  was  an  accidental  circumstance.  When  they 
arrived  at  Todgers's,  and  the  door  was  opened,  Mercy  broke 
hastily  from  them  and  ran  up-stairs;  but  Charity  and  Jonas 
lingered  on  the  steps  talking  together  for  more  than 
five  minutes;  so,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  observed  next  morning,  to 
a  third  party,  "  It  was  pretty  clear  what  was  going  on  there^ 
and  she  was  glad  of  it,  for  it  really  was  high  time  Miss 
Pecksniff  thought  of  settling." 

And  now  the  day  was  coming  on,  when  that  bright  vision 
which  had  burst  on  Todgers's  so  suddenly,  and  made  a  sun- 
shine in  the  shady  breast  of  Jinkins,  was  to  be  seen  no  more; 
when  it  was  to  be  packed,  like  a  brown  paper  parcel,  or  a 
fish-basket,  or  an  oyster-barrel,  or  a  fat  gentleman,  or  any 
other  dull  reality  of  life,  in  a  stage-coach,  and  carried  down 
into  the  country  ! 

"  Never,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
when  they  retired  to  rest  on  the  last  night  of  their  stay  ; 
**  never  have  I  seen  an  establishment  so  perfectly  broken- 
hearted as  mine  is  at  this  present  moment  of  time.  I  don't 
believe  the  gentlemen  will  be  the  gentlemen  they  were,  or 
any  thing  like  it — no,  not  for  weeks  to  come.  You  have  a 
great  deal  to  answer  for  ;  both  of  you." 

They  modestly  disclaimed  any  willful  agency  in  this  disas- 
trous state  of  things,  and  regretted  it  very  much. 

**  Your  pious  pa,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "There's  a 
loss  !  My  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,  your  pa  is  a  perfect  mis- 
sionary of  peace  and  love." 

Entertaining  an  uncertainty  as  to  the  particular  kind 
of  love  supposed  to  be  comprised  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mis- 
sion, the  young  ladies  received  the  compliment  rather 
coldly. 

"  If  I  dared,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  perceiving  this,  "  to  vio- 
late a  confidence  which  has  been  reposed  in  me,  and  to  tell 
you  why  I  must  beg  of  you  to  leave  the  little  door  between 
your  room  and  mine  open  to-night,  I  think  you  would  be 
interested.  But  I  mustn't  do  it,  for  I  promised  Mr.  Jinkins 
faithfully,  that  I  would  be  as  silent  as  the  tomb." 

**  Dear  Mrs.  Todgers  !     What  can  you  mean  ?  " 

"Why  then,  my  sweet  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  the  lady  of 
the  house  ;  '*  my  own  loves,  if  you  will  allow  me  the  privi- 
lege of  taking  that  freedom  on  the  eve  of  our  separation,  Mr. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  193 

JInkins  and  the  gentlemen  have  made  up  a  little  musical 
party  among  themselves,  and  do  intend,  in  the  dead  of  this 
night  to  perform  a  serenade  upon  the  stairs  outside  the  door. 
I  could  have  wished,  I  own,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  her 
usual  foresight,  "  that  it  had  been  fixed  to  take  place  an 
hour  or  two  earlier  ;  because,  when  gentlemen  sit  up  late, 
they  drink,  and  when  they  drink,  they're  not  so  musical 
perhaps,  as  v/hen  they  don't.  But  this  is  the  arrangement  ; 
and  I  know  you  will  be  gratified,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs, 
by  such  a  mark  of  their  attention." 

The  young  ladies  were  at  first  so  much  excited  by  the 
news,  that  they  vowed  they  couldn't  think  of  going  to  bed, 
until  the  serenade  was  over.  But  half  an  hour  of' cool  wait- 
ing so  altered  their  opinion  that  they  not  only  went  to  bed, 
but  fell  asleep  ;  and  were  moreover  not  ecstatically  charmed 
to  be  awakened  some  time  afterward  by  certain  dulcet 
strains  breaking  in  upon  the  silent  watches  of  the  night. 

It  was  very  affecting,  very.  Nothing  more  dismal  could 
have  been  desired  by  the  most  fastidious  taste.  The  gentle- 
man of  a  vocal  turn  was  head  mute,  or  chief  mourner  ;  Jin- 
kins  took  the  bass  ;  and  the  rest  took  any  thing  they  could 
get.  The  youngest  gentleman  blew  his  m.elancholy  into  a 
flute.  He  didn't  blow  much  out  of  it,  but  that  was  all  the 
better.  If  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  and  Mrs.  Todgers  had 
perished  by  spontaneous  combustion,  and  the  serenade  had 
been  in  honor  of  their  ashes,  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  surpass  the  unutterable  despair  expressed  in  that  one 
chorus,  "  Go  where  glory  waits  thee  !  "  It  was  a  requiem, 
a  dirge,  a  moan,  a  howl,  a  wail,  a  lament,  an  abstract  of 
every  thing  that  is  sorrowful  and  hideous  in  sound.  The 
flute  of  the  youngest  gentleman  was  wild  and  fitful.  It  came 
and  went  in  gusts,  like  the  wind.  For  a  long  time  together 
he  seemed  to  have  left  off,  and  when  it  was  quite  settled  by 
Mrs.  Todgers  and  the  young  ladies,  that,  overcome  by  his 
feelings,  he  had  retired  in  tears,  he  unexpectedly  turned  up 
again  at  the  very  top  of  the  tune,  gasping  for  breath.  He 
was  a  tremendous  performer.  There  was  no  knowing  where 
to  have  him  ;  and  exactly  when  you  thought  he  was  doing 
nothing  at  all,  then  was  he  doing  the  very  thing  that  ought 
to  astonish  you  most. 

There  were  several  of  these  concerted  pieces  :  perhaps 
two  or  three  too  many,  though  that,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  said, 
was  a  fault  on  the  right  side.  But  even  then,  even  at  that 
solemn  moment,  when  the  thrilling  sounds  maybe  presumed 


194       *  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

to  have  penetrated  into  the  very  depths  of  his  nature,  if  he 
had  any  depths,  Jinkins  couldn't  leave  the  youngest  gentle- 
man alone.  He  asked  him  distinctly,  before  the  second 
song  began — as  a  personal  favor  too,  mark  the  villain  in  that 
— not  to  play.  Yes  ;  he  said  so  ;  not  to  play.  The  breath- 
ing of  the  youngest  gentleman  was  heard  through  the  key- 
hole of  the  door.  He  didnt  play.  What  vent  was  a  flute 
for  the  passions  swelling  up  within  his  breast  ?  A  trombone 
would  have  been  a  world  too  mild. 

The  serenade  approached  its  close.  Its  crowning  interest 
was  at  hand.  The  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn  had  written 
a  song  on  the  departure  of  the  ladies,  and  adapted  it  to  an 
old  tune.  »They  all  joined,  except  the  youngest  gentleman 
in  company,  who,  for  the  reasons  aforesaid,  maintained  a 
fearful  silence.  "I'he  song  (which  was  of  a  classical  nature) 
invoked  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  and  demanded  to  know  what 
would  become  of  Todgers's  when  Charity  and  Mercy  were 
banished  from  its  walls.  The  oracle  delivered  no  opinion 
particularly  worth  remembering,  according  to  the  not  infre- 
quent practice  of  oracles  from  the  earliest  ages  down  to  the 
present  time-  In  the  absence  of  enlightenment  on  that  sub- 
ject, the  strain  deserted  it,  and  went  on  to  show  that  the 
MisG  Pecksniffs  were  nearly  related  to  Rule  Britannia,  and 
that  if  Great  Britain  hadn't  been  an  island  there  could  have 
been  no  Miss  Pecksniffs.  And  being  now  on  a  nautical 
tack,  it  closed  with  this  verse: 

"All  hail  to  the  vessel  of  Pecksniff  the  sire! 
And  favoring  breezes  to  fan; 
While  Tritons  flock  round  it,  and  proudly  admire 
The  architect,  artist,  and  man!  " 

As  they  presented  this  beautiful  picture  to  the  imagina- 
tion, the  gentlemen  gradually  withdrew  to  bed  to  give  the 
music  the  effect  of  distance;  and  so  it  died  away,  and  Tod- 
gers's was  left  to  its  repose. 

Mr.  Bailey  reserved  his  vocal  offering  until  the  morning, 
when  he  put  his  head  into  the  room  as  the  young  ladies 
were  kneeling  before  their  truaks,  packing  up,  and  treated 
them  to  an  imitation  of  the  voice  of  a  young  dog  in  trying 
circumstances;  when  that  animal  is  supposed  by  persons  of 
a  lively  fancy  to  relieve  his  feelings  by  calling  for  pen  and 
ink. 

*'  Well,  young  ladies,"  said  the  youth,  "  so  you're  a-going 
home,  are  you,  worse  luck  ?  " 

"Yes,  Bailey,  we're  goii  g  home,"  returned  Mercy. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWJT.  195 

**  An't  you  a-going  to  leave  none  of  'em  a  lock  of  your 
hair  ?  "  inquired  the  youth.     It's  real,  an't  it  ?  " 

They  laughed  at  this,  and  told  him  of  course  it  was. 

"  Oh,  is  it  of  course,  though  ? "  said  Bailey.  **  I  know 
better  than  that.  Hers  an't.  Why,  I  see  it  hanging  up, 
once,  on  that  nail  by  the  winder.  Besides,  I  have  gone 
behind  her  at  dinner-time  and  pulled  it;  and  she  never 
know'd.  I  say,  young  ladies,  I'm  a-going  to  leave.  I  ain't 
a-going  to  stand  being  called  names  by  her  no  longer." 

Miss  Mercy  inquired  v/hat  his  plans  for  the  future  might 
be;  in  reply  to  whom  Mr.  Bailey  intimated  that  he  thought 
of  going  either  into  top-boots  or  into  the  army. 

"  Into  the  army!  "  cried  the  young  ladies,  with  a  laugh. 

*'Ah!"  said  Bailey,  "  why  not?  There's  a  many  drum- 
mers in  the  Tower.  I'm  acquainted  with  'em.  Don't  their 
country  set  a  valley  on  'em,  mind  you!     Not  at  all!  " 

"  You'll  be  shot,  I  see,"  observed  Mercy. 

"  Well!  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  *'  wot  if  I  am  ?  There's  some- 
thing gamey  in  it,  young  ladies,  an't  there  ?  I'd  sooner  be 
hit  with  a  cannon-ball  than  a  rolling-pin,  and  she's  always 
a-catching  up  something  of  that  sort  and  throwing  it  at  me, 
wen  the  gentlemen's  appetites  is  good.  Wot,"  said  Mr.  Bai- 
ley, stung  by  the  recollection  of  his  wrongs,  "wot  if  they  do 
consume  the  per-vishuns.     It  an't  my  fault,  is  it  ?  " 

''Surely  no  one  says  it  is,"  said  Mercy. 

"  Don't  they,  though  ?  "  retorted  the  youth.  "  No.  Yes. 
Ah!  Oh!  No  one  mayn't  say  it  is!  but  some  one  knows  it 
is.  But  I  an't  going  to  have  ever}^  rise  in  prices  wisited  on 
me.  I  an't  a-going  to  be  killed,  because  the  markets  is  dear. 
I  won't  stop.  And  therefore,"  added  Mr.  Bailey,  relenting 
into  a  smile,  "  wotever  you  mean  to  give  me,  you'd  better 
give  me  all  at  once,  becos  if  ever  you  come  back  agin  I 
shan't  be  here;  and  as  to  the  other  boy,  he  won't  deserve 
nothing,  /  know." 

The  young  ladies,  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  them- 
selves, acted  on  this  thoughtful  advice;  and  in  considera- 
tion of  their  private  friendship,  presented  Mr.  Bailey  with  a 
gratuity  so  liberal  that  he  could  hardly  do  enough  to  show 
his  gratitude;  which  found  but  an  imperfect  vent,  during 
the  remainder  of  the  day,  in  divers  secret  slaps  upon  his 
pocket,  and  other  such  facetious  pantomime.  Nor  was  it 
confined  to  these  ebullitions;  for,  besides  crushing  a  band- 
box with  a  bonnet  in  it,  he  seriously  damaged  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's luggage,  by  ardently  hauling  it  down  from  the  top  of 


196  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

fhe  house;  and,  in  short,  evinced,  by  every  means  in  his 
power,  a  lively  sense  of  the  favors  he  had  received  from  that 
gentleman  and  his  family. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  and  Mr.  Jinkins  came  home  to  dinner, 
arm-in-arm;  for  the  latter  gentleman  had  m^de  half-holi- 
day, on  purpose;  thus  gaining  an  immense  advantage  over 
the  youngest  gentleman  and  the  rest,  whose  tiine,  as  it  per- 
versely chanced,  was  all  bespoke,  until  the  evening.  The 
bottle  of  wine  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's  treat,  and  they  v/ere  very 
sociable  indeed  ;  though  full  of  lamentations  on  the  neces- 
sity of  parting.  While  they  were  in  the  midst  of  their  enjoy- 
ment, old  Anthony  and  his  son  were  announced  ;  much  to 
the  surprise  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  greatly  to  the  discomfiture 
of  Jinkins. 

''Come  to  say  good-by,  you  see,"  said  x\n<hony,  in  a  low 
voice,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  they  took  their  seats  apart  at  the 
table,  while  the  rest  conversed  among  themselves.  "  Where's 
the  use  of  a  division  between  you  and  me  ?  We  are  the  two 
halves  of  a  pair  of  scissors,  when  apart,  Pecksniff  ;  but 
together  we  are  something.     Eh  ?  " 

*'  Unanimity,  my  good  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''  is 
always  delightful." 

''  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  old  man,  *'  for  there 
are  some  people  I  would  rather  differ  from  than  agree  with. 
But  you  know  my  opinion  of  you." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  still  having  "hypocrite"  In  his  mind,  only 
replied  by  a  motion  of  his  head,  which  was  something 
between  an  affirmative  bow  and  a  negative  shake. 

"  Complimentary,"  said  Anthony.  "  Complimentary,  upon 
my  Avord.  It  was  an  involuntary  tribute  to  your  abilities, 
even  at  the  time  ;  and  it  was  not  a  time  to  suggest  compli- 
ments either.  But  we  agreed  in  the  coach,  you  know,  that 
we  quite  understood  each  other." 

"Oh,  quite  !  "  assented  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  manner  which 
implied  that  he  himself  was  misunderstood  most  cruelly,  but 
would  not  complain. 

Anthony  glanced  at  his  son  as  he  sat  beside  Miss  Charity, 
and  then  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  then  at  his  son  again,  very 
many  times.  It  happened  that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  glances  took 
a  similar  direction  ;  but  when  he  became  aware  of  it,  he 
first  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  then  closed  them  ;  as  if  he  were 
determined  that  the  old  man  should  read  nothing  there. 

"  Jonas  is  a  shrewd  lad,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  He  appears,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff  i"  his  most  candid 
manner,  "  to  be  very  shrewd." 


MAR'riN  CliUZZLEWlT.  197 

*  And  careful,"  said  the  old  man. 

**And  careful,  I  have  no  doubt,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Lookye  !  "  said  Anthony  in  his  ear.  "  I  think  he  is 
sweet  upon  your  daughter." 

"  Tut,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  his  eyes  still 
closed  ;  "  young  people,  young  people.  A  kind  of  cousins 
too.     No  more  sweetness  than  is  in  that,  sir." 

"  Why,  there  is  very  little  sweetness  in  that,  according  to 
our  experience,"  returned  Anthony.  "  Isn't  there  a  trifle 
more  here  ? " 

'*  Impossible  to  say,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff.  *'  Quite 
impossible  !  You  surprise  me." 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  old  man,  dryly.  *' It  may 
last  ;  I  mean  the  sweetness,  not  the  surprise  ;  and  it  may 
die  off.  Supposing  it  should  last,  perhaps  (you  having  feath- 
ered your  nest  pretty  well,  and  I  having  done  the  same),  we 
might  have  a  mutual  interest  in  the  matter." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  gently,  was  about  to  speak,  but 
Anthony  stopped  him. 

*'  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  It's  quite  unneces- 
sary. You  have  never  thought  of  this  for  a  moment  ;  and 
in  a  point  so  nearly  affecting  the  happiness  of  your  dear  child, 
you  couldn't  as  a  tender  father,  express  an  opinion  ;  and  so 
forth.  Yes,  quite  right.  And  like  you  !  But  it  seems  to 
me,  my  dear  Pecksniff,"  added  Anthony,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  sleeve,  "  that  if  you  and  I  kept  up  the  joke  of  pre- 
tending not  to  see  this,  one  of  us  might  possibly  be  placed 
in  a  position  of  disadvantage  ;  and  as  I  am  very  unwilling 
to  be  that  party  myself,  you  will  excuse  my  taking  the  lib- 
erty of  putting  the  matter  beyond  a  doubt,  thus  early  ;  and 
having  it  distinctly  understood,  as  it  is  now,  that  we  do  see 
it,  and  do  know  it.  Thank  you  for  your  attention.  We  are 
now  upon  an  equal  footing  ;  which  is  agreeable  to  us  both, 
I  am  sure." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke  ;  and  giving  Mr.  Pecksniff  a  nod  of 
intelligence,  moved  away  from  him  to  where  the  young  peo- 
ple were  sitting  ;  leaving  that  good  man  somewhat  puzzled 
and  discomfited  by  such  very  plain  dealing,  and  not  quite 
free  from  a  sense  of  having  been  foiled  in  the  exercise  of  his 
familiar  weapons. 

But  the  night-coach  had  a  punctual  character,  and  it  W3« 
time  to  join  it  at  the  office  ;  which  was  so  near  at  hand,  thai 
they  had  already  sent  their  luggage,  and  arranged  to  walk. 
Thither  the  whole  party  repaired,  therefore,  after  no  more 


19S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

delay  than  sufficeti  for  the  equipment  of  the  Miss  Pecksniffs 
and  Mrs.  Todgers.  They  found  the  coach  already  at  its 
starting  place,  and  the  horses  in  ;  there,  too,  were  a  large 
majority  of  the  commercial  gentlemen,  including  the  young- 
est, who  was  visibly  agitated,  and  in  a  state  of  deep  mental 
dejection. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  distress  of  Mrs.  Todgers  in  part- 
ing from  the  young  ladies,  except  the  strong  emotions  with 
which  she  bade  adieu  to  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Never  surely  was  a 
pocket-handkerchief  taken  in  and  out  of  a  flat  reticule  so 
often  as  Mrs.  Todgers's  was,  as  she  stood  up  on  the  pavement 
by  the  coach-door,  supported  on  either  side  by  a  commercial 
gentleman  :  and  by  the  light  of  the  coach-lamps  caught  such 
brief  snatches  and  glimpses  of  the  good  man's  face,  as  the 
constant  interposition  of  Mr.  Jinkins  allowed.  For  Jinkins, 
to  the  last  the  youngest  gentleman's  rock  a-headin  life,  stood 
upon  the  coach-step  talking  to  the  ladies.  Upon  the  other 
step  was  Mr.  Jonas,  who  maintained  that  position  in  right  of 
his  cousinship  ;  whereas  the  youngest  gentleman,  who  had 
been  first  upon  the  ground,  was  deep  in  the  booking-office 
among  the  black  and  red  placards,  and  the  portraits  of  fast 
coaches,  where  he  was  ignominiously  harassed  by  porters, 
and  had  to  contend  and  strive  perpetually  with  heavy  bag- 
gage. This  false  position,  combined  with  his  nervous  excite- 
ment, brought  about  the  very  consummation  and  catastrophe 
of  his  miseries  ;  for  when  in  the  moment  of  parting,  he 
aimed  a  flower,  a  hot-house  flower,  that  had  cost  money,  at 
the  fair  hand  of  Mercy,  it  reached,  instead,  the  coachman 
on  the  box,  who  thanked  him  kindly,  and  stuck  it  in  his 
button-hole. 

I'hey  were  off  now  ;  and  Todgers's  was  alone  again.  The 
two  young  ladies,  leaning  back  in  their  separate  corners, 
resigned  themselves  to  their  own  regretful  thoughts.  But 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  dismissing  all  ephemeral  considerations  of 
social  pleasure  and  enjoyment,  concentrated  his  meditations 
on  the  one  great  virtuous  purpose  before  him,  of  casting  out 
that  ingrate  and  deceiver,  whose  presence  yet  troubled  his 
domestic  hearth,  and  was  a  sacrilege  upon  the  altars  of  his 
household  gods. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  199 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WILL  BE  SEEN  IN  THE  LONG  RUN,  IF  NOT  IN  THE  SHORT  ONE, 
TO  CONCERN  MR.  PINCH  AND  OTHERS,  NEARLY.  MR.  PECK- 
SNIFF ASSERTS  THE  DIGNITY  OF  OUTRAGED  VIRTUE.  YOUNG 
MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT  FORMS  A  DESPERATE  RESOLUTION. 

Mr.  Pinch  and  Martin,  little  dreaming  of  the  stormy 
weather  that  impended,  made  themselves  very  comfortable 
in  the  Pecksniffian  halls,  and  improved  their  friendship  daily. 
Martin's  facility,  both  of  invention  and  execution,  being 
remarkable,  the  grammar-school  proceeded  with  great  vigor  ; 
and  Tom  repeatedly  declared,  that  if  there  were  any  thing 
like  certainty  in  human  affairs,  or  impartiality  in  human 
judges,  a  design  so  new  and  full  of  merit  could  not  fail  to 
carry  off  the  first  prize  when  the  time  of  competition  arrived. 
Without  being  quite  so  sanguine  himself,  Martin  had  his 
hopeful  anticipations  too  ;  and  they  served  to  make  him 
brisk  and  eager  at  his  task. 

"  If  I  should  turn  out  a  great  architect,  Tom,"  said  the 
new  pupil  one  day,  as  he  stood  at  a  little  distance  from  his 
drawing,  and  eyed  it  with  much  complacency,  "  I'll  tell  you 
what  should  be  one  of  the  things  I'd  build." 

"Ay!"  cried  Tom.     "What?" 

"  Why,  your  fortune." 

"  No  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  quite  as  much  delighted  as  if 
the  thing  were  done.  "  Would  you  though  !  How  kind  of 
you  to  say  so." 

"  I'd  build  it  up,  Tom,"  returned  Martin,  "on  such  a 
strong  foundation,  that  it  should  last  your  life — ay,  and  your 
children's  lives  too,  and  their  children*f  after  them.  I'd  be 
your  patron,  Tom.  I'd  take  you  under  my  protection.  Let 
me  see  the  man  who  should  give  the  cold  shoulder  to  any 
body  I  chose  to  protect  and  patronize,  if  I  were  at  the  top 
of  the  tree,  Tom  !  " 

"  Now,  I  don't  think,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  upon  my  word, 
that  I  was  ever  more  gratified  than  by  this.  I  really 
don't." 

"  Oh  !  I  mean  what  I  say,"  retorted  Martin,  with  a  man- 
ner as  free  and  easy  in  its  condescension  to,  not  to  say  in 
its  compassion  for,  the  other,  as  if  he  were  alreadv  first 
architect  in  ordinary  to  all  the  crowned  heads  in  Europe. 
"  I'd  do  it.     I'd  provide  for  you." 


« 


20O  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  1  am  afraid,"  said  Torn,  shaking  his  head,  "that  I  should 
be  a  mighty  awkward  person  to  provide  for." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  "  rejoined  Martin.  "  Never  mind  that.  If 
I  took  it  in  my  head  to  say,  '  Pinch  is  a  clever  fellow  ;  J 
approve  of  Pinch  ;'  I  should  like  to  know  the  man  who  would 
venture  to  put  himself  in  opposition  to  me.  Besides,  con- 
found it,  Tom,  you  could  be  useful  to  me  in  a  hundred  ways.' 

"  If  I  were  not  useful  in  one  or  two,  it  shouldn't  be  for 
want  of  trying,"  said  Tom. 

*'  For  instance,"  pursued  Martin,  after  a  short  reflection, 
"you'd  be  a  capital  fellow,  now,  to  see  that  my  ideas  were 
properly  carried  out  and  to  overlook  the  works  in  their  prog- 
ress before  they  v/ere  sufficiently  advanced  to  be  very  inter- 
esting to  vie;  and  to  take  all  that  sort  of  plain  sailing.  Then 
you'd  be  a  splendid  fellow  to  show  people  over  my  studio,  and 
to  talk  about  art  to  'em  when  I  couldn't  be  bored  myself,  and 
all  that  kind  of  thing.  For  it  would  be  devilish  creditable, 
Tom  (I'm  quite  in  earnest,  I  give  you  my  word),  to  have  a 
man  of  your  information  about  one,  instead  of  some  ordinary 
blockhead.  Oh,  I'd  take  care  of  you.  You'd  be  useful,  rely 
upon  it  !  " 

To  say  that  Tom  had  no  idea  of  playing  first  fiddle  in  any 
social  orchestra,  but  was  always  quite  satisfied  to  be  set  down 
for  the  hundred  and  fiftieth  violin  in  the  band,  or  thereabout, 
is  to  express  his  modesty  in  very  inadequate  terms.  He  was 
much  delighted,  therefore,  by  these  observations. 

"  I  should  be  married  to  her  then,  Tom,  of  course,"  said 
Martin. 

What  was  that  which  checked  Tom  Pinch  so  suddenly,  in 
the  high  flow  of  his  gladness  ;  bringing  the  blood  into  his 
honest  cheeks,  and  a  remorseful  feeling  to  his  honest  heart, 
as  if  he  were  unworthy  of  his  friend's  regard  ? 

"  I  should  be  married  to  her  then,"  said  Martin,  looking 
with  a  smile  toward  the  light;  "  and  \ve  should  have,  I  hope, 
children  about  us.     They'd  be  very  fond  of  you,  Tom." 

But  not  a  word  said  Mr.  Pinch.  The  words  he  would  have 
uttered  died  upon  his  lips,  and  found  a  life  more  spiritual  in 
self-denying  thoughts. 

"  All  the  children  hereabouts  are  fond  of  you,  Tom,  and 
mine  would  be,  of  course,"  pursued  Martin.  "  Perhaps  I 
might  name  one  of  'em  after  you.  Tom,  eh  ?  Well,  I  don't 
know.  'J'om's  not  a  bad  name.  Thomas  Pinch  Chuzzlewit. 
T.  P.  C.  on  his  pinafores.  No  objection  to  that,  I  should 
say." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  201 

Tom  cleared  his  throat,  and  smiled, 

*'  She  would  like  you,  Tom,  1  know,"  said  Martin. 

"  Ay  !  "  cried  Tom  Pinch,  faintly. 

"  1  can  tell  exactly  what  she  would  think  of  you,"  said 
Martin,  leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and  looking  through 
the  window-glass  as  if  he  read  there  what  he  said  ;  "  I  know 
her  so  well.  She  would  smile,  Tom,  often  at  first  when  you 
spoke  to  her,  or  w^hen  she  looked  at  you — merrily  too — but 
you  wouldn't  mind  that.     A  brighter  smile  you  never  saw." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom.     "  I  wouldn't  mind  that." 

"  She  would  be  as  tender  with  you,  Tom,"  said  Martia 
"  as  if  you  were  a  child  yourself.  So  you  are  almost,  in  some 
things,  an't  you,  Tom  ?  " 

Mr.  Pinch  nodded  his  entire  assent. 

"  She  would  always  be  kind  and  good-humored,  and  glad 
to  see  you,"  said  Martin  ;  "  and  when  she  found  out  exactly 
what  sort  of  fellow  you  w^ere  (which  she'd  do,  very  soon)  she 
would  pretend  to  give  you  little  commissions  to  execute,  and 
to  ask  little  services  of  you,  which  she  knew  you  were  burn- 
ing to  render  ;  so  that  when  she  really  pleased  you  most,  she 
would  try  to  make  you  think  you  most  pleased  her.  She 
would  take  to  you  uncommonly,  Tom  ;  and  would  under- 
stand you  far  more  delicately  than  I  ever  shall  ;  and  would 
often  say,  I  know,  that  you  were  a  harmless,  gentle,  wdl- 
intentioned,  good  fellow." 

How  silent  Tom  Pinch  was. 

"  In  honor  of  old  times,"  said  Martin,  "  and  of  her  having 
heard  you  play  the  organ  in  this  damp  little  church  down  here 
— for  nothing  too — we  will  have  one  in  the  house.  I  shall 
build  an  architectural  music-room  on  a  plan  of  my  own, 
it'll  look  rather  knowing  in  a  recess  at  one  end.  There  you 
shall  play  away,  Tom,  till  you  tire  yourself  ;  and,  as  you  like 
to  do  so  in  the  dark,  it  shall  be  dark  ;  and  many's  the  summer 
evening  she  and  I  will  sit  and  listen  to  you,  Tom  ;  be  sure  of 
that." 

It  may  have  required  a  stronger  effort  on  Tom  Pinch's  part 
to  leave  the  seat  on  which  he  sat,  and  shake  his  friend  by  both 
hands,  with  nothing  but  serenity  and  grateful  feeling  painied 
on  his  face;  it  may  have  required  a  stronger  effort  to  perform 
this  simple  act  with  a  pure  heart,  than  to  achieve  many  and 
many  a  deed  to  which  the  doubtful  trumpet  blown  by  fame 
has  lustily  resounded.  Doubtful,  because  from  its  long 
hovering  over  scenes  of  violence,  the  smoke  and  steam  of 
death  have  clogged  the  keys  of  that  brave  instrument ;  and 
it  is  not  always  that  its  notes  are  either  true  or  tuneful 


202  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  It's  a  proof  of  the  kindness  of  human  nature,"  said  Tom, 
characteristically  putting  himself  quite  out  of  sight  in  the 
matter,  "  that  every  body  who  comes  here,  as  you  have  done, 
is  more  considerate  and  affectionate  to  me  than  I  should 
have  any  right  to  hope,  if  I  were  the  most  sanguine  creature 
in  the  world  ;  or  should  have  any  power  to  express,  if  I  were 
the  most  eloquent.  It  really  overpowers  me.  But  trust 
me,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  not  ungrateful  ;  that  I  never 
forget  ;  and  that,  if  I  can  ever  prove  the  truth  of  my  v»'ords 
to  you,  1  will." 

'*  That's  all  right,"  observed  Martin,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  with  a  hand  in  each  pocket,  and  yawning  drearily, 
"Very  fine  talking,  Tom  ;  but  I'm  at  Pecksniff's,  I  remem- 
ber, and  perhaps  a  mile  or  so  out  of  the  high-road  to  fortune 
just  at  this  minute.  So  you've  heard  again  this  morning 
from  what's  his  name,  eh  ?  " 

*'  Who  may  that  be  ?  "  asked  Tom,  seeming  to  enter  a 
mild  protest  on  behalf  of  the  dignity  of  an  absent  person. 

"  Voii  know.     What  is  it .?    Northkey." 

"  Westlock,"  rejoined  Tom,  in  rather  a  louder  tone  than 
usual. 

'*  Ah  !  to  be  sure,"  said  Martin,  "Westlock.  I  knew  it 
was  something  connected  with  a  point  of  the  compass  and  a 
door.     Well!  and  what  says  Westlock  !  " 

"Oh  !  he  has  come  into  his  property,"  answered  Tom, 
nodding  his  head,  and  smiling. 

"  He's  a  lucky  dog,"  said  Martin.  "  I  wish  it  were  mine 
instead.     Is  that  all  the  mystery  you  were  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom  ;  *'  not  all." 

"What's  the  rest?"  asked  Martin. 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Tom,  "  it's  no  mystery, 
and  you  won't  think  much  of  it  ;  but  it's  very  pleasant  to 
me.  John  always  used  to  say  when  he  was  here,  '  Mark  my 
words,  Pinch.  When  my  father's  executors  cash  up  ' — he 
used  strange  expressions  now  and  then,  But  that  was  his  way." 

"  Cash-up's  a  very  good  expression,"  observed  Martin, 
"when  other  people  don't  apply  it  to  you.  W^ell  ?  What  a 
slow  fellow  you  are,  Pinch  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  I  know,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  you'll  make  me 
nervous  if  you  tell  me  so.  I'm  afraid  you  have  put  me 
out  a  little  now,  for  I  forget  what  I  was  going  to  say." 

"  When  John's  father's  executors  cashed-up,"  said  Martin 
impatiently. 

"  Oh  yes,  to  be  sure,"    cried  Tom  ;  "  yes.     *  Then,'  says 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEAVIT.  203 

John,  *  I'll  give  you  a  dinner,  Pinch,  and  come  down  to 
Salisbury  on  purpose.*  Now,  when  John  wrote  the  other 
day — the  morning  Pecksniff  left,  you  know — he  said  his 
business  was  on  the  point  of  being  immediately  settled,  and 
as  he  was  to  receive  his  money  directly,  when  could  I  meet 
him  at  Salisbury  ?  I  wrote  and  said,  any  day  this  week  ; 
and  I  told  him  besides,  that  there  was  a  new  pupil  here 
and  what  a  fine  fellow  you  were,  and  what  friends  we  had 
become.  Upon  which  John  writes  back  this  letter" — Tom 
produced  it — "  fixes  to-morrow  ;  sends  his  compliments  to 
you  ;  and  begs  that' we  three  may  have  the  pleasure  of  din- 
ing together  ;  not  at  the  house  where  you  and  I  were,  either  ; 
but  at  the  very  first  hotel  in  the  town.     Read  what  he  says." 

"Very  well,"  said  Martin,  glancing  over  it  Avith  his  cus- 
tomary coolness  ;  "  much  obliged  to  you.     I'm  agreeable.** 

Tom  could  have  wished  him  to  he  a  little  more  astonished, 
a  little  more  pleased,  or  in  some  form  or  other  a  little  more 
interested  in  such  a  great  event.  But  he  was  perfectly  self- 
possessed  ;  and  falling  into  his  favorite  solace  of  whistling, 
took  another  turn  at  the  grammar-school,  as  if  nothing  at  all 
had  happened. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  horse  being  regarded  in  the  light  of  a 
sacred  animal,  only  to  be  driven  by  him,  the  chief  priest  of 
that  temple,  or  by  some  person  distinctly  nominated  for  the 
tim.e  being  to  that  high  office  by  himself,  the  two  young  men 
agreed  to  walk  to  Salisbury  ;  and  so,  when  the  time  came, 
they  set  off  on  foot ;  which  was,  after  all,  a  better  mode  of 
traveling  than  in  the  gig,  as  the  weather  was  very  cold  and 
very  dry. 

Better  !  A  rare  strong,  hearty,  healthy  walk — four  statute 
miles  an  hour — preferable  to  that  rumbling,  tumbling,  jolting, 
shaking,  scraping,  creaking,  villanious  old  gig  ?  Why,  the  two 
things  will  not  admit  of  comparison.  It  is  an  insult  to  the 
walk,  to  set  them  side  by  side.  Where  is  an  instance  of  a  gig 
having  ever  circulated  a  man's  blood, unless  when, putting  him 
in  danger  of  his  neck,  it  awakened  in  his  veins  and  in  his  ears, 
and  all  along  his  spine,  a  tingling  heat  at  much  more  peculiar 
than  agreeable  ?  When  did  a  gig  ever  sharpen  any  body's  wits 
and  energies,  unless  it  was  when  the  horse  bolted,  and,  crash- 
ing madly  down  a  steep  hill  with  a  stone  wall  at  the  bottom, 
his  desperate  circumstances  suggested  to  the  only  gentleman 
left  inside,  some  novel  and  unheard-of  mode  of  dropping  out 
behind  ?  Better  than  the  gig  ! 

The  air  was  cold,  Tom;  so  it  was,  there  was  no  denying 


204  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

it;  but  would  it  have  been  more  genial  in  the  gig  ?  The 
blacksmith's  fire  burned  very  bright,  and  leaped  up  high,  as 
though  it  wanted  men  to  warm;  but  would  it  have  been  less 
tempting,  looked  at  from  the  clammy  cushions  of  a  gig? 
The  wind  blew  keenly,  nipping  the  features  of  the  hardy 
wight  who  fought  his  way  along;  blinding  him  with  his  own 
hair  if  he  had  enough  of  it,  and  wintry  dust  if  he  hadn't; 
stopping  his  breath  as  though  he  had  been  soused  in  a  cold 
bath;  tearing  aside  his  wrappings-up,  and  whistling  in  the 
very  marrow  of  his  bones;  but  it  would  have  done  all  this  a 
hundred  times  more  fiercely  to  a  man  in  a  gig,  wouldn't  it  ? 
A  fig  for  gigs  ! 

Better  than  the  gig  !  When  were  travelers  by  wheels  and 
hoofs  seen  with  such  red-hot  cheeks  as  those  ?  when  were 
they  so  good-humoredly  and  merrily  Moused  ?  when  did  their 
laughter  ring  upon  the  air,  as  they  turned  them  round,  what 
time  the  stronger  gusts  came  sweeping  up;  and,  facing  round 
again  as  they  passed  by,  dashed  on,  in  such  a  glow  of  ruddy 
health  as  nothing  could  keep  pace  with,  but  the  high  spirits 
it  engendered  ?  Better  than  the  gig  !  Why  here  is  a  man  in 
a  gig  coming  the  same  way  now.  Look  at  him  as  he  passes 
his  whip  into  his  left  hand,  chafes  his  numbed  right  fingers 
on  his  granite  leg,  and  beats  those  marble  toes  of  his  upon 
the  foot-board.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Who  would  exchange  this  rapid 
hurry  of  the  blood  for  yonder  stagnant  misery,  though  its  pace 
were  twenty  miles  for  one  ? 

Better  than  the  gig  !  No  man  in  a  gig  could  have  such 
interest  in  the  milestones.  No  man  in  a  gig  could  see,  or 
feel,  or  think,  like  merry  users  of  their  legs.  How,  as  the 
wind  sweeps  on,  upon  these  breezy  downs,  it  tracks  its  flight 
in  darkening  ripples  on  the  grass,  and  smoothest  shadows 
on  the  hills  !  Look  round  and  round  upon  this  bare  bleak 
plain,  and  see  even  here,  upon  a  winter's  day,  how  beauti- 
ful the  shadows  are  !  Alas  !  it  is  the  nature  of  their  kind 
to  be  so.  The  loveliest  things  in  life,  Tom,  are  but  shad- 
ows; and  they  come  and  go,  and  change  and  fade  away,  as 
rapidly  as  these  ! 

Another  mile,  and  then  begins  a  fall  of  snow,  making  the 
crow,  who  skims  away  so  close  above  the  ground  to  shirk  the 
wind,  a  blot  of  ink  upon  the  landscape.  But  though  it  drives 
and  drifts  against  them  as  they  walk,  stiffening  on  their 
skirts,  and  freezing  in  the  lashes  of  their  eyes,  they  wouldn't 
have  it  fall  more  sparingly,  no,  not  so  much  as  by  a  single 
flake,  although  they  had  to  go  a  score  of  miles.     And,  lo  ! 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  20c; 

^Ke  towers  of  the  old  cathedral  rise  before  them,  even  now! 
sTid  by  and  by  they  come  into  the  sheltered  streets,  made 
strangely  silent  by  their  white  carpet;  and  so  to  the  inn  for 
which  they  are  bound;  where  they  present  such  flushed  and 
burning  faces  to  the  cold  waiter,  and  are  so  brimful  of  vigor 
that  he  almost  feels  assaulted  by  their  presence;  and  having 
nothing  to  oppose  to  the  attack  (being  fresh,  or  rather  stale, 
from  the  blazing  fire  in  the  coffee  room),  is  quite  put  out  of 
his  pale  countenance. 

A  famous  inn  !  the  hall  a  very  grove  of  dead  game,  and 
dangling  joints  of  mutton;  and  in  one  corner  an  illustrious 
larder,  with  glass  doors,  developing  cold  fowls  and  noble 
joints,  and  tarts  wherein  the  raspberry  jam  coyly  withdrew 
itself,  as  such  a  precious  creature  should,  behind  a  lattice 
work  of  pastry.  And  behold,  on  the  first  floor,  at  the  court- 
end  of  the  house,  in  a  room  with  all  the  window-curtains 
drawn,  a  fire  piled  halfway  up  the  chimney,  plates  warming 
before  it,  wax  candles  gleaming  everywhere,  and  a  table 
spread  for  three,  with  silver  and  glass  enough  for  thirty — 
John  Westlock  !  Not  the  old  John  of  Pecksniff's,  but  a  pro- 
per gentleman  ;  looking  another  and  grander  person,  with 
the  consciousness  of  being  his  own  master  and  having  money 
in  the  bank;  and  yet  in  some  respects  the  old  John  too,  for 
he  seized  Tom  Pinch  by  both  his  hands  the  instant  he 
appeared,  and  fairly  hugged  him,  in  his  cordial  welcome. 

"  And  this,"  said  John,  *'  is  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  him  !  "  John  had  an  off-hand  manner  of  his 
own  ;  so  they  shook  hands  warmly,  and  were  friends  in  no 
time. 

"  Stand  off  a  moment,  Tom,"  cried  the  old  pupil,  laying 
one  hand  on  each  of  Mr.  Pinch's  shoulders,  and  holding  him^ 
out  at  arm's  length.  "Let  me  look  at  you  !  Just  the  same  I 
Not  a  bit  changed  !" 

"Why,  it's  not  so  very  long  ago,  you  know,"  said  Tom 
Pinch,  "  after  all." 

"  It  seems  an  age  to  me,"  cried  John;  "  and  so  it  ought  to 
seem  to  you,  you  dog."  And  then  he  pushed  Tom  down  into 
the  easiest  chair,  and  clapped  him  on  the  back  so  heartily  and 
so  like  his  old  self  in  their  old  bed-room  at  old  Pecksniff's  that 
it  was  a  toss-up  with  Tom  Pinch  whether  he  should  laugh  o'' 
cry.     Laughter  won  it  ;  and  they  all  three  laughed  together. 

"  I  have  ordered  every  thing  for  dinner,  that  we  used  to 
say  we'd  have,  Tom,"  observed  John  Westlock. 

**  No  !  "  said  Tom  Pioch.  "  Have  you  ?  '* 


2o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  Every  thing.  Don't  laugh,  if  you  can  help  it,  before  the 
waiters.  /  couldn't  when  I  was  ordering  it.  It's  like  a 
dream." 

John  was  wrong  there,  because  nobody  ever  dreamed  sach 
soup  as  was  put  upon  the  table  directly  afterward  ;  or  such 
fish  ;  or  such  side-dishes  ;  or  such  a  top  and  bottom;  or  such 
a  course  of  birds  and  sweets  ;  or  in  short  any  thing  approach- 
ing the  reality  of  that  entertainment  at  ten-and-sixpence  a 
head,  exclusive  of  wines.  As  to  them^  the  man  wha  can 
dream  such  iced  champagne,  such  claret,  port,  or  sherry, 
had  better  go  to  bed  and  stop  there. 

But  perhaps  the  finest  feature  of  the  banquet  was,  that 
nobody  was  half  so  much  amazed  by  every  thing  as  John 
himself,  who  in  his  high  delight,  was  constantly  bursting 
into  fits  of  laughter,  and  then  endeavoring  to  appear  preter- 
naturally  solemn,  lest  the  waiters  should  conceive  he  wasn't 
used  to  it.  Some  of  the  things  they  brought  him  to  carve, 
were  such  outrageous  practical  jokes,  though,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  stand  it  ;  and  when  Tom  Pinch  insisted,  in 
spite  of  the  deferential  advice  of  an  attendant,  not  only 
on  breaking  down  the  outer  wall  of  a  raised  pie  with  a  table- 
spoon, but  on  trying  to  eat  it  afterward,  John  lost  all  dig- 
nity, and  sat  behind  the  gorgeous  dish-cover  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  roaring  to  that  extent  that  he  was  audible  in  the 
kitchen.  Nor  had  he  the  least  objection  to  laugh  at  himself, 
as  he  demonstrated  when  they  had  all  three  gathered  round 
the  fire,  and  the  dessert  was  on  the  table  ;  at  which  period, 
the  head  waiter  inquired  with  respectful  solicitude  whether 
that  port,  being  a  light  and  tawny  wine,  was  suited  to  his 
taste,  or  whether  he  would  wish  to  try  a  fruity  port  with 
greater  body.  To  this  John  gravely  answered  that  he  was 
well  satisfied  with  what  he  had,  which  he  esteemed,  as  one 
might  say,  a  pretty  tidy  vintage  ;  for  which  the  waiter 
thanked  him  and  withdrew.  And  then  John  told  his  friends, 
with  a  broad  grin,  that  he  supposed  it  was  all  right,  but  he 
didn't  know  ;  and  went  off  into  a  perfect  shout. 

They  were  very  merry  and  full  of  enjoyment  the  Avhole 
time,  but  not  the  least  pleasant  part  of  the  festival  was  when 
they  all  three  sat  about  the  fire,  cracking  nuts,  drinking 
wine,  and  talking  cheerfully.  It  happened  that  Tom  IHnch 
had  a  word  to  say  to  his  friend  the  organist's  assistant,  and 
so  deserted  his  warm  corner  for  a  few  minutes  at  this  season, 
lest  it  should  grow  too  late  ;  leaving  the  other  two  young 
men  together. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  207 

They  drank  his  health  in  his  absence,  of  course  ;  and 
John  Westlock  took  that  opportunity  of  saying,  that  he  had 
never  had  even  a  peevish  word  with  Tom  during  the  whole 
term  of  their  residence  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house.  This 
naturally  led  him  to  dwell  on  Tom's  character,  and  to 
hint  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  understood  it  pretty  well.  He  only 
hinted  this,  and  very  distantly;  knowing  that  it  pained  Tom 
Pinch  to  have  that  gentleman  disparaged,  and  thinking  it 
would  be  as  well  to  leave  the  new  pupil  to  his  own  discov- 
eries. 

"Yes,"  said  Martin.  "It's  impossible  to  like  Pinch 
better  than  I  do,  or  to  do  greater  justice  to  his  good  (quali- 
ties.    He  is  the  most  willing  fellow  I  ever  saw." 

"  He's  rather  too  willing,"  observed  John,  who  was 
quick  in  observation.     "  It's  quite  a  fault  in  him." 

"So  it  is,"  said  Martin.  "  Very  true.  There  was  a  fel- 
low only  a  week  or  so  ago — a  Mr.  Tigg — who  borrowed  all 
the  money  he  had,  on  a  promise  to  repay  it  in  a  few  days. 
It  was  but  half  a  sovereign,  to  be  sure  ;  but  it's  well  it  was 
no  more,  for  he'll  never  see  it  again." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  John,  who  had  been  very  attentive 
to  these  few  words.  "  Perhaps  you  have  not  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  that,  in  his  own  pecuniary  transactions, 
Tom's  proud." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  No,  I  haven't.  What  do  you  mean? 
Won't  he  borrow  ? " 

John  Westlock  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  very  odd,"  said  Martin,  setting  down  his  empty 
glass.     "  He's  a  strange  compound,  to  be  sure." 

*'  As  to  receiving  money  as  a  gift,"  resumed  John  West- 
lock  ;  "  I  think  he'd  die  first." 

*'  He's  made  up  of  simplicity,"  said  Martin.  *'  Help 
yourself." 

"  You,  however,"  pursued  John,  filling  his  own  glass,  and 
looking  at  his  companion  with  some  curiosity,  "who  are 
older  than  the  majority  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  assistants,  and  have 
evidently  had  much  more  experience,  understand  him,  I 
have  no  doubt,  and  see  how  liable  he  is  to  be  imposed  upon." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Martin,  stretching  out  his  legs,  and 
holding  his  wine  between  his  eye  and  the  light.  "  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff knows  that  too.     So  do  his  daughters.     Eh  ?  " 

John  Westlock  smiled,  but  made  no  answer 

''  By  the  by,"  said  Martin,  "  that  reminds  me.  What's 
your  opinion  of  Pecksniff  ?     How  did  he  use  you  ?     What  do 


2o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

you  think  of  him   now  ?      Coolly,  you  know,  when  it's  all 
over  ?" 

"  Ask  Pinch,"  returned  the  old  pupil.  "  He  knows  what 
my  sentiments  used  to  be  upon  the  subject.  They  are  not 
changed,  I  assure  you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Martin, "  I'd  rather  have  them  from  you." 

"  But  Pinch  says  they  are  unjust,"  urged  John  with  a 
smile. 

"  Oh  !  well  !  Then  I  know  what  course  they  take  before- 
hand," said  Martin  ;  "  and,  therefore,  you  can  have  no  deli- 
cacy in  speaking  plainly.  Don't  mind  me,  I  beg.  I  don't  like 
him,  I  tell  you  frankly.  I  am  with  him  because  it  happens 
from  particular  circumstances  to  suit  my  convenience.  I 
have  some  ability,  I  believe,  in  that  way  ;  and  the  obligation, 
if  any,  will  most  likely  be  on  his  side  and  not  mine.  At  the 
lowest  mark,  the  balance  will  be  even,  and  there'll  be  no 
obligation  at  all.  So  you  may  talk  to  me^  as  if  I  had  no  con- 
nection with  him." 

*'  If  you  press  me  to  give  my  opinion  " — returned  John 
Westlock. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Martin.     "You'll  oblige  me." 

" — I  should  say,"  resumed  the  other,  "  that  he  is  the  most/ 
consummate  scoundrel  on  the  face  of  the  earth  !  " 

''  Oh  !  "  said  Martin,  as  coolly  as  ever.  "  That's  rather 
strong." 

"  Not  stronger  than  he  deserves,"  said  John  ;  "  and  if  he 
called  upon  me  to  express  my  opinion  of  him  to  his  face,  I 
would  do  so  in  the  very  same  terms,  without  the  least  quali- 
fication. His  treatment  of  Pinch  is  in  itself  enough  to  justify 
them  ;  but  when  I  look  back  upon  the  five  years  I  passed  in 
that  house,  and  remember  the  hypocrisy,  the  knavery,  the 
meannesses,  the  false  pretenses,  the  lip  service  of  that  fellow, 
and  his  trading  in  saintly  semblances  for  the  very  worst 
realities  ;  when  I  remember  how  often  I  was  the  witness  of 
all  this,  and  how  often  I  was  made  a  kind  of  party  to  it,  by 
the  fact  of  being  there,  with  him  for  my  teacher  ;  I  swear  to 
you,  that  I  almost  despise  myself." 

Martin  drained  his  glass,  and  looked  at  the  fire. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say,  that  is  a  right  feeling,"  pursued 
John  Westlock,  "because  it  was  no  fault  of  mine;  and  I  can 
quite  understand — you,  for  instance,  fully  appreciating  him, 
and  yet  being  forced  by  circumstances  to  remain  there.  I 
tell  you  simply  what  my  feeling  is,  and  even  now,  when,  as 
you   say,  it's  all  over  ;  and  when  I  have  the  satisfaction  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  209 

knowing  that  he  always  hated  me,  and  we  always  quarrelled, 
and  I  always  told  him  my  mind;  even  now,  I  feel  sorry  that 
I  didn't  yield  to  an  impulse  I  often  had,  as  a  boy,  of  run- 
ning away  from  him  and  going  abroad." 

"  Why  abroad  ?  "  asked  Martin,  turning  his  eyes  upon  the 
speaker. 

"  In  search,"  replied  John  Westlock,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  '*  of  the  livelihood  I  couldn't  have  earned  at  home. 
There  would  have  been  something  spirited  in  that.  But, 
come  !     Fill  your  glass,  and  let  us  forget  him." 

*'  As  soon  as  you  please,"  said  Martin.  "  In  reference 
to  myself  and  my  connection  with  him,  I  have  only  to  repeat 
what  I  said  before.  I  have  taken  my  own  way  with  him  so 
far,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so,  even  more  than  ever  ;  for 
the  fact  is,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  that  I  believe  he  looks  to  me 
to  supply  his  defects,  and  couldn't  afford  to  lose  me.  I  had 
a  notion  of  that,  in  first  going  there.     Your  health  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  young  Westlock.  "Yours.  And 
may  the  new  pupil  turn  out  as  well  as  you  can  desire  !  " 

"  W^hat  new  pupil  ? " 

**  The  fortunate  youth,  born  under  an  auspicious  star," 
returned  John  Westlock,  laughing,  "  whose  parents,  or  guard- 
ians, are  destined  to  be  hooked  by  the  advertisement.  What! 
Don't  you  know  that  he  has  advertised  again  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  read  it  just  before  dinner  in  the  old  news- 
paper. I  know  it  to  be  his  ;  having  some  reason  to  remem- 
ber the  style.  Hush  !  Here's  Pinch.  Strange,  is  it  not, 
that  the  more  he  likes  Pecksniff  (if  he  can  like  him  better 
than  he  does),  the  greater  reason  one  has  to  like  him  ?  Not 
a  word  more,  or  we  shall  spoil  his  whole  enjoyment." 

Tom  entered  as  the  words  were  spoken,  with  a  radiant 
smile  upon  his  face  ;  and  rubbing  his  hands,  more  from  a 
sense  of  delight  than  because  he  was  cold  (for  he  had  been 
running  fast),  sat  down  in  his  warm  corner  again,  and  was  as 
happy  as  only  Tom  Pinch  could  be.  There  is  no  other 
simile  that  will  express  his  state  of  mind. 

"  And  so,"  he  said,  when  he  had  gazed  at  his  friend  for 
some  time  in  silent  pleasure,  "  so  you  really  are  a  gentleman 
at  last,  John.     Well,  to  be  sure  !  " 

''  Trying  to  be,  Tom  ;  trying  to  be,"  he  rejoined  good- 
humoredly.  "  There  is  no  saying  what  I  may  turn  out,  in 
time." 

"  i  suppose  you  wouldn't  carry  your  own  box  to  the  mail, 


2IO  MARTIN  CnUZZLEWIT. 

now?"  said  Tom  Pinch,  smiling;  *' although  you  lost  it 
altogether  by  not  taking  it." 

*'  Wouldn't  I  ?  "  retorted  John.  "  That's  all  you  know 
about  it,  Pinch,  It  must  be  a  very  bad  box  that  I  wouldn't 
carry  to  get  away  from  Pecksniff's,  Tom." 

"  There  !  "  cried  Pinch,  turning  to  Martin,  *'  I  told  you 
so.  The  great  fault  in  his  character  is  his  injustice  to  Peck- 
sniff. You  mustn't  mind  a  word  he  says  on  that  subject. 
His  prejudice  is  most  extraordinary." 

"  The  absence  of  any  thing  like  prejudice  on  Tom's  part, 
you  know,"  said  John  Westlock,  laughing  heartily,  as  he  laid 
his  hand  on  Mr.  Pinch's  shoulder,  "  is  perfectly  wonderful. 
If  one  man  ever  had  a  profound  knowledge  of  another,  and 
saw  him  in  a  true  light,  and  in  his  own  proper  colors,  Tom 
has  that  knowledge  of  Mr.  Pecksniff." 

"  Why,  of  course  I  have,"  cried  Tom.  "  That's  exactly 
what  I  have  so  often  said  to  you.  If  you  knew  him  as  well 
as  I  do — John,  I'd  give  almost  any  money  to  bring  that 
about — you'd  admire,  respect,  and  reverence  him.  You 
couldn't  help  it.  Oh,  how  you  wounded  his  feelings  when 
you  went  away  !  " 

''  If  I  had  known  whereabout  his  feelings  lay,"  retorted 
young  Westlock,  "  I'd  have  done  my  best,  Tom,  with  that 
end  in  view,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  But  as  I  couldn't 
wound  him  in  what  he  has  not,  and  in  what  he  knows  noth- 
ing of,  except  in  his  ability  to  probe  them  to  the  quick  in 
other  people,  I  am  afraid  I  can  lay  no  claim  to  your  com- 
pliment." 

Mr.  Pinch,  being  unwilling  to  protract  a  discussion  which 
might  possibly  corrupt  Martin,  forebore  to  say  any  thing  in 
reply  to  this  speech  ;  but  John  Westlock,  whom  nothing 
short  of  an  iron  gag  would  have  silenced  when  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
merits  were  once  in  question,  continued  notwithstanding. 

"  His  feelings  !  Oh  he's  a  tender-hearted  man  !  His 
feelings  !  Oh,  he's  a  considerate,  conscientious,  self-examin- 
ing, moral  vagabond,  he  is  !  His  feelings  !  Oh  ! — what's 
the  matter,  Tom  } " 

Mr.  Pinch  was  by  this  time  erect  upon  the  hearth-rug, 
buttoning  his  coat  with  great  energy. 

''  I  can't  hear  it,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  head.  **  No.  I 
really  can  not.  You  must  excuse  me,  John.  I  have  a  great 
esteem  and  friendship  for  you  ;  I  love  you  very  much  ;  and 
have  been  perfectly  charmed  and  over-joyed  to-day,  to  find 
vou  just  the  same  as  ever  ;  but  I  can  not  listen  to  this." 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  211 

'*  Why,  it's  my  old  way,  Tom  ;  and  you  say  yourself  that 
you  are  glad  to  find  me  unchanged." 

"Not  in  this  respect,"  said  Tom  Pinch.  "You  must 
excuse  me,  John.  I  can  not,  really  ;  I  will  not.  It's  very 
wrong  ;  you  should  be  more  guarded  in  your  expressions. 
It  was  bad  enough  when  you  and  I  used  to  be  alone  together, 
bilt  under  existing  circumstances,  I  can't  endure  it,  really. 
No.     I  can  not,  indeed." 

"  You  are  quite  right  !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  exchanging 
looks  with  ^Iartin  ;  "  and  I  quite  wrong,  Tom.  I  don't 
know  how  the  deuce  we  fell  on  this  unlucky  theme.  I  beg 
your  pardon  with  all  my  heart." 

''  You  have  a  free  and  manly  temper,  I  know,"  said  Pinch  ; 
"and  therefore,  your  being  so  ungenerous  in  this  one  soli- 
tary instance,  only  grieves  me  the  more.  It's  not  my  par- 
don you  have  to  ask,  John.  You  have  done  ine  nothing  but 
kindnesses." 

"  Well  !  Pecksniff's  pardon,  then,"  said  young  Westlock. 
"  Any  thing,  Tom,  or  any  body.  Pecksniff's  pardon.  Will 
that  do  ?     Here  !  let  us  drink  Pecksniff's  health  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  cried  Tom,  shaking  hands  with  him 
eagerly,  and  filling  a  bumper.  "  Thank  you  ;  I'll  drink  it 
with  all  my  heart,  John.  Mr.  Pecksniff's  health,  and  pros- 
perity to  him  !  " 

John  Westlock  echoed  the  sentiment,  or  nearly  so  ;  for  he 
drank  Mr.  Pecksniff's  health,  and  something  to  him  ;  but 
what,  was  not  quite  audible.  The  general  unanimity  being 
then  completely  restored,  they  drew  their  chairs  closer  round 
the  fire,  and  conversed  in  perfect  harmony  and  enjoyment 
until  bed-time. 

No  slight  circumstance,  perhaps,  could  have  better  illus- 
trated the  difference  of  character  between  John  Westlock 
and  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  than  the  manner  in  which  each  of 
the  young  men  contemplated  Tom  Pinch,  after  the  little 
rupture  just  described.  There  was  a  certain  amount  of 
jocularity  in  the  looks  of  both,  no  doubt,  but  there  all 
resemblance  ceased.  The  old  pupil  could  not  do  enough 
to  show  Tom  how  cordially  he  felt  toward  him, 
and  his  friendly  regard  seemed  of  a  graver  and 
more  thoughtful  kind  than  before.  The  new  one,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  no  impulse  but  to  laugh  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  Tom's  extreme  absurdity;  and  mingled  with  his 
amusement  there  was  something  slighting  and  contemptuous, 
indicative,  as  it  appeared,  of  his  opinion  that  Mr.  Pinch  was 


2  12  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 

much  too  far  gone  in  simplicit}^,  to  be  admitted  as  the  friend, 
on  serious  and  equal  terms,  of  any  rational  man. 

John  Westlock,  who  did  nothing  by  halves,  if  he  could 
help  it,  had  provided  beds  for  his  two  guests  in  the  hotel; 
and  after  a  very  happy  evening,  they  retired.  Mr.  Pinch 
was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed  with  his  cravat  and  shoes 
off,  ruminating  on  the  manifold  good  qualities  of  his  old 
friend,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  his  chamber 
door,  and  the  voice  of  John  himself. 

"  You  are  not  asleep  yet,  are  you,  Tom?  ** 

"  Bless  you,  no  I  not  I.  I  was  thinking  of  you,"  replied 
Tom,  opening  the  door.     **  Come  in." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  detain  you,"  said  John;  "  but  I  have 
forgotten  all  the  evening  a  little  commission  I  took  upon  my- 
self;  and  I  am  afraid  I  may  forget  it  again,  if  I  fail  to  dis- 
charge it  at  once.    You  know  a  Mr.  Tigg,  Tom,  I  believe?  " 

"  Tigg!  "  cried  Tom.  "  Tigg!  The  gentleman  who  bor- 
rowed some  money  of  me?  " 

"  Exactly  "  said  John  Westlock.  **  He  begged  me  to 
present  his  compliments,  and  to  return  it  with  many  thanks. 
Here  it  is.  I  suppose  it's  a  good  one,  but  he  is  rather  a 
doubtful  kind  of  customer,  Tom." 

Mr.  Pinch  received  the  little  piece  of  gold,  with  a  face 
whose  brightness  might  have  shamed  the  metal;  and  said  he 
had  no  fear  about  that.  He  was  glad,  he  added,  to  find 
Mr.  Tigg  so  prompt  and  honorable  in  his  dealings  ;  very  glad. 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Tom,  *  replied  his  friend,  "  he 
is  not  always  so.  If  you'll  take  my  advice,  you'll  avoid  him 
as  much  as  you  can,  in  the  event  of  your  encountering  him 
again.  And  by  no  means,  Tom — pray  bear  this  in  mind, 
for  I  am  very  serious — by  no  means  lend  him  money  any 
more." 

"  Ay,  ay!  "  said  Tom,  with  his  eyes  wide  open. 

"  He  is  very  far  from  being  a  reputable  acquaintance," 
returned  young  Westlock;  "and  the  more  you  let  him  know 
you  think  so,  the  better  for  you,  Tom." 

"I  say,  John,"  quoth  Mr.  Pinch,  as  his  countenance  fell 
and  he  shook  his  head  in  a  dejected  manner.  "  I  hope  you 
are  not  getting  into  bad  company." 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied  laughing.  "  Don't  be  uneasy  on 
that  score." 

"  Oh  but  I  am  uneasy,"  said  Tom  Pinch;  **  I  can't  help  it 
when  I  hear  you  talking  in  that  way.  If  Mr.  Tigg  is  what 
you  describe  him  to  be,  you  have  no  business  to   know  him, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLKWIT.  213 

John.  You  may  laugh,  but  I  don't  consider  it  by  any  means 
a  laughing  matter,  1  assure  you." 

"  No,  no,"  returned  his  friend,  composing  his  features. 
"Quite  right.     Jt  is  not,  certainly." 

"  You  know,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  your  very  good 
nature  and  kindness  of  heart  make  you  thoughtless;  and 
you  can't  be  too  careful  on  such  a  point  as  this.  Upon  my 
word,  if  I  thought  you  were  falling  among  bad  companions, 
I  should  be  quite  wretched,  for  I  know  how  difficult  you 
would  find  it  to  shake  them  off.  I  would  much  rather  have 
lost  this  money,  John,  than  I  would  have  had  it  back  again 
on  such  terms." 

''  I  tell  you,  my  dear  good  old  fellow,"  cried  his  friend, 
shaking  him  to  and  fro  with  both  hands,  and  smiling  at  him 
with  a  cheerful,  open  countenance,  that  would  have  carried 
conviction  to  a  mind  much  more  suspicious  than  Tom's;  *'  I 
tell  you  there  is  no  danger." 

"Well!  "  cried  Tom,  "I  am  glad  to  hear  it;  I  am  over- 
joyed to  hear  it.  I  am  sure  there  is  not,  when  you  say  so 
in  that  manner.  You  won't  take  it  ill,  John,  that  I  said 
what  I  did  just  now!  " 

"  111!  "  said  the  other,  giving  his  hand  a  hearty  squeeze. 
"  Why  what  do  you  think  I  am  made  of?  Mr.  Tigg  and  I 
are  not  on  such  an  intimate  footing  that  you  need  be  at  all 
uneasy,  I  give  you  my  solemn  assurance  of  that,  Tom.  You 
are  quite  comfortable  now?" 

"  Quite,"  said  Tom. 

"  Then  once  more,  good-night!  " 

"  Good-night!  "  cried  Tom;  "and  such  pleasant  dreams 
to  you,  as  should  attend  the  sleep  of  the  best  fellow  in  the 
world!  " 

" — Except  Pecksniff,"  said  his  friend,  stopping  at  the 
door,  for  a  moment,  and  looking  gayly  back. 

"  Except  Pecksniff,"  answered  Tom,  with  great  gravity; 
"  of  course." 

And  thus  they  parted  for  the  night;  John  Westlock  full  of 
light-heartedness  and  good  humor,  and  poor  Tom  Pinch  quite 
satisfied;  though  still,  as  he  turned  over  on  his  side  in  bed, 
he  muttered  to  himself,  "  I  really  do  wish,  for  all  that, 
though,  that  he  wasn't  acquainted  with  Mr.  Tigg." 

They  breakfasted  together  very  early  next  morning,  for 
the  two  young  men  desired  to  get  back  again  in  good  season; 
and  John  Westlock  was  to  return  to  London  by  the  coach 
that   day.     As  he  had   some    hours  to  spare,  he  bore  them 


214  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

company  for  three  or  four  miles  on  tlieir  walk,  and  only 
parted  from  them  at  last  in  sheer  necessity.  The  parting 
was  an  unusually  hearty  one,  not  only  as  between  him  and 
Tom  Pinch,  but  on  the  side  of  Martin  also,  who  had  found 
in  the  old  pupil  a  very  different  sort  of  person  from  the 
milksop  he  had  prepared  himself  to  expect. 

Young  Westlock  stopped  upon  a  rising  ground,  when  he 
had  gone  a  little  distance,  and  looked  back.  They  were 
walking  at  a  brisk  pace,  and  Tom  appeared  to  be  talking 
earnestly.  Martin  had  taken  off  his  great-coat,  the  wind 
being  now  behind  them,  and  carried  it  upon  his  arm.  As  he 
looked,  he  saw  Tom  relieve  him  of  it,  after  a  faint  resist- 
ance, and,  throwing  it  upon  his  own,  encumber  himself  with 
the  weight  of  both.  This  trivial  incident  impressed  the  old 
pupil  mightily,  for  he  stood  there,  gazing  after  them,  until 
they  were  hidden  from  his  view;  when  he  shook  his  head,  as 
if  he  were  troubled  by  some  uneasy  reflection,  and  thought- 
fully retraced  his  steps  to  Salisbury. 

In  the  meantime,  Martin  and  Tom  pursued  their  way,  until 
they  halted,  safe  and  sound,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  where 
a  brief  epistle  from  that  good  gentleman  to  Mr.  Pinch, 
announced  the  family's  return  by  that  night's  coach.  As  it 
would  pass  the  corner  of  the  lane  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  Mr.  Pecksniff  requested  that  the  gig  might  be  in 
waiting  at  the  finger-post  about  that  time,  together  with  a 
cart  for  the  luggage.  And  to  the  end  that  he  might  be  received 
with  the  greater  honor,  the  young  men  agreed  to  rise  early, 
and  be  upon  the  spot  themselves. 

It  was  the  least  cheerful  day  they  had  yet  passed  together. 
Martin  was  out  of  spirits  and  out  of  humor,  and  took  every 
opportunity  of  comparing  his  condition  and  prospects  with 
those  of  young  Westlock;  much  to  his  own  disadvantage 
always.  This  mood  of  his  depressed  Tom;  and  neither  that 
morning's  parting,  nor  yesterday's  dinner,  helped  to  mend  the 
matter.  So  the  hours  dragged  on  heavily  enough;  and  they 
were  glad  to  go  to  bed  early. 

They  were  not  quite  so  glad  to  get  up  again  at  half-past 
four  o'clock,  in  all  the  shivering  discomfort  of  a  dark  win- 
ter's morning;  but  they  turned  out  punctually,  and  were  at 
the  finger-post  full  half  an  hour  before  the  appointed  time. 
It  was  not  by  any  means  a  lively  morning,  for  the  sky  was 
black  and  cloudy,  and  it  rained  hard;  but  Martin  said  there 
was  some  satisfaction  in  seeing  that  brute  of  a  horse  (by  this, 
he  meant  Mr.  Pecksnifl's  Arab  steed)  getting  very  wet;  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


215 


that  he  rejoiced,  on  his  account,  that  it  rained  so  fast.  From 
this  it  may  be  inferred, that  Martin's  spirits  had  nol  improved, 
as  indeed  they  had  not;  for  while  he  and  Mr.  Pinch  stood 
waiting  under  a  hedge,  looking  at  the  rain,  the  gig,  the  cart, 
and  its  reeking  driver,  he  did  nothing  but  grumble;  and,  but 
that  it  is  indispensable  to  any  dispute  that  there  should  be 
two  parties  to  it,  he  would  certainly  have  picked  a  quarrel 
with  Tom. 

At  length  the  noise  of  wheels  was  faintly  audible  in  the 
distance,  and  presently  the  coach  came  splashing  through 
the  mud  and  mire,  with  one  miserable  outside  passenger 
crouching  down  among  wet  straw,  under  a  saturated 
umbrella;  and  the  coachman,  guard,  and  horses,  in  a  fellow- 
ship of  dripping  wretchedness.  Immediately  on  its  stop- 
ping, Mr.  Pecksniff  let  down  the  window-glass  and  hailed 
Tom  Pinch, 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  Pinch  !  Is  it  possible  that  you  are  out 
upon  this  very  inclement  morning  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  cried  Tom,  advancing  eagerly,  "  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit  and  I,  sir." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking,  not  so  much  at  Mar- 
tin as  at  the  spot  on  which  he  stood.  "  Oh  !  Indeed  !  Do 
me  the  favor  to  see  to  the  trunks,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Then  Mr.  Pecksniff  descended,  and  helped  his  daughters 
to  alight;  but  neither  he  nor  the  young  ladies  took  the 
slightest  notice  of  Martin,  who  had  advanced  to  offer  his 
assistance,  but  was  repulsed  by  Mr.  Pecksniff's  standing 
immediately  before  his  person,  with  his  back  toward  him. 
In  the  same  manner,  and  in  profound  silence,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
handed  his  daughters  into  the  gig;  and  following  himself  and 
taking  the  reins,  drove  off  home. 

Lost  in  astonishment,  Martin  stood  staring  at  the  coach, 
and  when  the  coach  had  driven  away,  at  Mr.  Pinch  and  the 
luggage,  until  the  cart  moved  off  too;  when  he  said  to  Tom: 

"  Now  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what  this 
portends  ? " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  This  fellow's  behavior.  Mr.  Pecksniff's,  I  mean.  You 
saw  it  ?  " 

"  No.  Indeed  I  did  not,"  cried  Tom.  ''  I  was  busy  with 
the  trunks." 

"  It  is  no  matter,"  said  Martin.  "  Come  !  Let  us  make 
haste  back."  And  without  another  word  he  started  off  at 
such  a  pace,  that  Tom  had  some  difficulty  in  keeping  up 
with  him. 


21(5  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

He  had  no  care  where  he  went,  but  walked  through  Httle 
heaps  of  mud  and  little  pools  of  water  with  the  utmost 
indifference  ;  looking  straight  before  him,  and  sometimes 
laughing  in  a  strange  manner  within  himself.  Tom  felt  that 
any  thing  he  could  say  would  only  render  him  the  more 
obstinate,  and  therefore  trusted  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  manner 
when  they  reached  the  house,  to  remove  the  mistaken 
impression  under  which  he  felt  convinced  so  great  a  favorite 
as  the  new  pupil  must  unquestionably  be  laboring.  But  he 
w^as  not  a  little  amazed  himself,  w4ien  they  did  reach  it,  and 
entered  the  parlor  where  Mr.  Pecksniff  w^as  sitting  alone 
before  the  fire,  drinking  some  hot  tea,  to  find,  that  instead 
of  taking  favorable  notice  of  his  relative,  and  keeping  him, 
Mr.  Pinch,  in  the  background,  he  did  exactly  the  reverse, 
and  was  so  lavish  in  his  attentions  to  Tom  that  Tom  was 
thoroughly  confounded. 

"  Take  some  tea,  Mr.  Pinch,  take  some  tea,"  said  Peck- 
sniff, stirring  the  fire.  "  You  must  be  very  cold  and  damp. 
Pray  take  some  tea,  and  come  into  a  warm  place,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Tom  saw  that  Martin  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  though 
he  could  have  easily  found  it  in  his  heart  to  give  him  an 
invitation  to  a  very  warm  place  ;  but  he  was  quite  silent, 
and  standing  opposite  that  gentleman  at  the  table,  regarded 
him  attentively. 

"  Take  a  chair,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  '*  Take  a  chair, 
if  you  please.  How  have  things  gone  on  in  our  absence,  Mr. 
Pinch  ? " 

"  You — you  will  be  very  much  pleased  with  the  grammar- 
school,  sir,"  said  Tom.     ''  It's  nearly  finished." 

"If  you  will  have  the  goodness,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Peck- 
sniff, waving  his  hand  and  smiling,  "  we  will  not  discuss 
any  thing  connected  with  that  question  at  present.  What 
have  j)w/  been  doing,  Thomas,  humph  ? " 

Mr.  Pinch  looked  from  master  to  pupil,  and  from  pupil  to 
master,  and  was  so  perplexed  and  dismayed,  that  he  wanted 
presence  of  mind  to  answer  the  question.  In  this  awkward 
interval,  Mr.  Pecksniff  (who  was  perfectly  conscious  of 
Martin's  gaze,  though  he  had  never  once  glanced  toward 
him),  poked  the  fire  very  much,  and  when  he  couldn't  do 
that  any  more,  drank  tea  assiduously. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  Martin  at  last,  in  a  very  quiet 
voice,  "  if  you  have  sufficiently  refreshed  and  recovered 
yourself,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  what  you  mean  by  this  treat- 
ment of  me." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  217 

"And  v/hat,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  his  eyes  on  Tom 
Pinch,  even  more  placidly  and  gently  than  before,  "what 
have  you  been  doing,  Thomas,  humph  ?  " 

When  he  had  repeated  this  incpiiry,  he  looked  round  the 
walls  of  the  room  as  if  he  were  curious  to  see  whether  any 
nails  had  been  left  there  by  accident  in  former  times. 

Tom  was  almost  at  his  wit's  ends  what  to  say  between  the 
two,  and  had  already  made  a  gesture  as  if  he  would  call  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  attention  to  the  gentleman  who  had  last  addressed 
him,  when  Martin  saved  him  further  trouble,  by  doing 
so  himself. 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  softly  rapping  th'e  table  twice 
or  thrice,  and  moving  a  step  or  two  nearer,  so  that  he  could 
have  touched  him  with  his  hand  ;  "you  heard  what  I  said 
just  now.  Do  me  the  favor  to  reply,  if  you  please.  I  ask 
you  ;  "  he  raised  his  voice  a  little  here  ;  "  what  do  you 
mean  by  this  ?  " 

"  I  will  talk  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  a  severe 
voice,  as  he  looked  at  him  for  the  first  time,  "  presently." 

"  You  are  very  obliging,"  returned  Martin  ;  "  presently 
will  not  do.     I  must  trouble  you  to  talk  to  me  at  once." 

Mr,  Pecksniff  made  a  feint  of  being  deeply  interested  in 
his  pocket-book,  but  it  shook  in  his  hands  ;  he  trembled  so. 

"  Now,"  retorted  Martin,  rapping  the  table  again.  "  Now. 
Presently  will  not  do.     Now  !  " 

"  Do  you  threaten  me,  sir  ? "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Martin  looked  at  him,  and  made  no  answer  ;  but  a  curi- 
ous observer  might  have  detected  an  ominous  twitching  at 
his  mouth,  and  perhaps  an  involuntary  attraction  of  his 
right  hand  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  cravat. 

"  I  lament  to  be  obliged  to  say,  sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, "  that  it  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  your  character 
if  you  did  threaten  me.  You  have  deceived  me.  You  have 
imposed  upon  a  nature  which  you  knew  to  be  confiding  and 
unsuspicious.  You  have  obtained  admission,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff  rising,  "  to  this  house,  on  perverted  statements,  and 
on  false  pretenses." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Martin,  with  a  scornful  smile.  "  I  under- 
stand you  now.     What  more  ?  " 

"  Thus  much  more,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  and  trying  to  rub  his  hands,  as  though  he 
were  only  cold.  "  Thus  much  more,  it  you  force  me  to  pub- 
lish your  shame  before  a  third  party,  which  I  was  unwilling 
and  indisposed  to  do.     This  lowly  roof,  sir,  must  not  be  con- 


2iS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT. 

taminated  by  the  presence  of  one,  who  has  deceived,  and 
cruelly  deceived,  an  honorable,  beloved,  venerated,  and  ven- 
erable gentleman  ;  and  who  wisely  suppressed  that  deceit 
from  me  when  he  sought  my  protection  and  favor,  knowing 
that,  humble  as  I  am,  I  am  an  honest  man,  seeking  to  do  my 
duty  in  this  carnal  universe,  and  setting  my  face  against  all 
vice  and  treachery.  I  weep  for  your  depravity,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  **  I  mourn  over  your  corruption,  I  pity  your 
voluntary  withdrawal  of  yourself  from  the  flowery  paths  of 
purity  and  peace  ;  "  here  he  struck  himself  upon  his  breast, 
or  moral  garden  ;  "  but  I  can  not  have  a  leper  and  serpent 
for  an  inmate.  Go  forth,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretching 
out  his  hand  ;  "  go  forth,  young  man  !  Like  all  who  know 
you,  I  renounce  you  !  " 

With  what  intention  Martin  made  a  stride  forward  at  these 
words,  it  is  imi)ossible  to  say.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  Tom 
Pinch  caught  him  in  his  arms,  and  that,  at  the  same  moment, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  stepped  back  so  hastily,  that  he  missed  his 
footing,  tumbled  over  a  chair,  and  fell  in  a  sitting  posture  on 
the  ground  ;  where  he  remained  without  an  effort  to  get  up 
again,  with  his  head  in  a  corner  ;  perhaps  considering  it  the 
safest  place. 

"  Let  me  go,  Pinch  !  "  cried  Martin,  shaking  him  away. 
"  Why  do  you  hold  me  ?  Do  you  think  a  blow  could  make 
him  a  more  abject  creature  than  he  is  ?  Do  you  think  that 
if  I  spat  upon  him,  I  could  degrade  him  to  a  lower  level  than 
his  own  ?     Look  at  him.     Look  at  him.  Pinch  !  " 

Mr.  Pinch  involuntarily  did  so.  Mr.  Pecksniff  sitting,  as 
has  been  already  mentioned,  on  the  carpet,  with  his  head  in 
an  acute  angle  of  the  wainscot,  and  all  the  damage  and 
detriment  of  an  uncomfortable  journey  about  him,  was  not 
exactly  a  model  of  all  that  is  prepossessing  and  dignified  in 
man,  certainly.  Still  he  7e'as  Pecksniff  ;  it  was  imj^ossible 
to  deprive  him  of  that  unique  and  paramount  appeal  to  Tom. 
And  he  returned  Tom's  glance,  as  if  he  would  have  said, 
"  Ay,  Mr.  Pinch,  look  at  me  !  Here  I  am  !  You  know  what 
the  poet  says  about  an  honest  man  ;  and  an  honest  man  is 
one  of  the  few  great  works  that  can  be  seen  for  nothing  ! 
Look  at  me  !  " 

**  I  tell  you,"  said  Martin,  **  that  as  he  lies  there,  disgraced, 
bought,  used  ;  a  cloth  for  dirty  hands,  a  mat  for  dirty  feet,  a 
lying,  fawning,  servile  hound,  he  is  the  very  last  and  worst 
among  the  vermin  of  the  world.  And  mark  me.  Pinch  ! 
The  day  will  come — he  knows  it  ;  see  it  written  on  his  face, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  219 

while  I  speak  ! — when  even  you  will  find  him  out,  and  will 
know  him  as  I  do,  and  as  he  knows  I  do.  He  renounce  Jiie  ! 
Cast  your  eyes  on  the  renouncer,  Pinch,  and  be  the  wiser  for 
the  recollection  !  " 

He  pointed  at  him  as  he  spoke,  with  unutterable  contempt, 
and  flinging  his  hat  upon  his  head,  walked  from  the  room 
and  from  the  house.  He  went  so  rapidly  that  he  was  already 
clear  of  the  village,  when  he  heard  Tom  Pinch  calling 
breathlessly  after  him  in  the  distance. 

^'  Well  !  what  now  ? "  he  said,  when  Tom  came  up. 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  Tom,  "  are  you  going  ?  " 

"■  Going  !  "  he  echoed.     ''  Going  !  " 

"  I  didn't  so  much  mean  that,  as  were  you  going  now  at 
once,  in  this  bad  weather,  on  foot,  without  your  clothes,  with 
no  money  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  sternly,  "  I  am." 

''  And  where  ?  "  cried  Tom.     **  Oh  where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  **  Yes,  I  do.  I'll  go  to  Amer- 
ica !  " 

**  No,  no,"  cried  Tom,  in  a  kind  of  agony.  *'  Don't  go 
there.  Pray  don't  !  Think  better  of  it.  Don't  be  so  dread- 
fully regardless  of  yourself.     Don't  go  to  America." 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,"  he  said.  "  Your  friend  was  right. 
I'll  go  to  America.     God  bless  you.  Pinch  !  " 

"  Take  this  !  "  cried  Tom,  pressing  a  book  upon  him  in 
great  agitation.  ''  I  must  make  haste  back,  and  can't  say 
any  thing  I  would.  Heaven  be  with  you.  Look  at  the  leaf 
I  have  turned  down.     Good-by,  good-by  !  " 

The  simple  fellow  wrung  him  by  the  hand,  with  tears 
stealing  down  his  cheeks  ;  and  they  parted  hurriedly  upon 
their.separate  ways. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

SHOWING  WHAT  BECAME  OF  MARTIN  AND  HIS  DESPERATE 
RESOLVE  AFTER  HE  LEFT  MR.  PECKSNIFF's  HOUSE  ;  WHAT  PER- 
SONS HE  ENCOUNTERED  ;  WHAT  ANXIETIES  HE  SUFFERED  ; 
AND  WHAT  NEWS  HE  HEARD. 

Carrying  Tom  Pinch's  book  quite  unconsciously  under  his 
arm,  and  not  even  buttoning  his  coat  as  a  protection  against 
the  heavy  rain,  Martin  went  doggedly  forward  at  the  same 
quick  pace,  until  he  had  passed  the  finger-post,  and  was  on 
the  high  road  to   London.     He   slackened   very  little  in  his 


220  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

speed  even  then,  but  he  began  to  think,  and  look  about 
him,  and  to  disengage  his  senses  from  the  coil  of  angry 
passions  which  hitherto  had  held  them  prisoner. 

It  must  be  confessed  that,  at  that  moment,  he  had  no  very 
agreeable  employment  either  for  his  moral  or  his  physical 
perceptions.  The  day  was  dawning  from  a  patch  of  watery 
light  in  the  east,  and  sullen  clouds  came  driving  up  before 
it  from  which  the  rain  descended  in  a  thick,  wet  mist.  It 
streamed  from  every  twig  and  bramble  in  the  hedge  ;  made 
little  gullies  in  the  path  ;  ran  down  a  hundred  channels  in 
the  road  ;  and  punched  innumerable  holes  into  the  face  of 
every  pond  and  gutter.  It  fell  with  an  oozy,  slushy  sound 
among  the  grass  ;  and  made  a  muddy  kennel  of  every  fur- 
row in  the  plowed  fields.  No  living  creature  was  any 
where  to  be  seen.  The  prospect  could  hardly  have  been 
more  desolate  if  animated  nature  had  been  dissolved  in 
water,  and  poured  down  upon   the  earth  again  in  that  form. 

The  range  of  view  within  the  solitary  traveler,  was  quite 
as  cheerless  as  the  scene  without.  Friendless  and  penniless  ; 
incensed  to  the  last  degree  ;  deeply  wounded  in  his  pride 
and  self-love  ;  full  of  independent  schemes,  and  perfectly 
destitute  of  any  means  of  realizing  them  ;  his  most  vindic- 
tive enemy  might  have  been  satisfied  with  the  extent  of  his 
troubles.  To  add  to  his  other  miseries,  he  was  by  this  time 
sensible  of  being  wet  to  the  skin,  and  cold  at  his  very  heart. 

In  this  deplorable  condition,  he  remembered  Mr.  Pinch's 
book  ;  more  because  it  was  rather  troublesome  to  carry,  than 
from  any  hope  of  being  comforted  by  this  parting  gift.  He 
looked  at  the  dingy  lettering  on  the  back,  and  finding  it  to 
be  an  odd  volume  of  the  "  Bachelor  of  Salamanca,"  in  the 
French  tongue,  cursed  Tom  Pinch's  folly,  twenty  times.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  throwing  it  away,  in  his  ill-humor  and 
vexation,  when  he  bethought  himself  that  Tom  had  referred 
him  to  a  leaf,  turned  down  ;  and  opening  it,  at  that  place, 
that  he  might  have  additional  cause  of  complaint  against 
him  for  supposing  that  any  cold  scrap  of  the  bachelor's 
wisdom  could  cheer  him  in  such  circumstances,  found — 

Well,  well  !  not  much,  but  Tom's  all.  The  half-sovereign. 
He  had  wrapped  it  hastily  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  pinned 
it  to  the  leaf.  These  words  were  scrawled  in  pencil  on  the 
inside  :  "  I  don't  want  it,  indeed.  I  should  not  know  what 
to  do  with.it,  if  I  had  it." 

There  are  some  falsehoods,  Tom,  on  which  men  mount,  as 
on  bright   wings,   toward   heav^en.     There  are  some  truths, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  221 

cold,  bitter,  taunting  truths,  wherein  your  worldly  scholars  are 
very  apt  and  punctual,  which  bind  men  down  to  earth  with 
leaden  chains.  Who  would  not  rather  have  to  fan  him,  in 
his  dying  hour,  the  lightest  feather  of  a  falsehood  such  as 
thine,  than  all  the  quills  that  have  been  plucked  from  the 
sharp  porcupine,  reproachful  truth,  since  time  began  ! 

Martin  felt  keenly  for  himself,  and  he  felt  this  good  deed 
of  Tom's  keenly.  After  a  few  minutes  it  had  the  effect  of 
raising  his  spirits,  and  reminding  him  that  he  was  not  alto- 
gether destitute,  as  he  had  left  a  fair  stock  of  clothes  behind 
him,  and  wore  a  gold  hunting-watch  in  his  pocket.  He 
found  a  curious  gratification,  too,  in  thinking  what  a  win- 
ning fellow  he  must  be  to  have  made  such  an  impression 
on  Tom  ;  and  in  reflecting  how  superior  he  was  to  Tom  ; 
and  how  much  more  likely  to  make  his  way  in  the  world. 
Animated  by  these  thoughts,  and  strengthened  in  his  design 
of  endeavoring  to  push  his  fortune  in  another  country,  he 
resolved  to  get  to  London  as  a  rallying-point,  in  the  best 
way  he  could  ;  and  to  lose  no  time  about  it. 

He  was  ten  good  miles  from  the  village  made  illustrious 
by  being  the  abiding-place  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  when  he 
stopped  to  breakfast  at  a  little  road-side  ale-house;  and  resting 
upon  a  high-backed  settle  before  the  fire,  pulled  off  his  coat, 
and  hung  it  before  the  cheerful  blaze,  to  dry.  It  was  a  very 
different  place  from  the  last  tavern  in  which  he  had  regaled  ; 
boasting  no  greater  extent  of  accommodation  than  the  brick- 
floored  kitchen  yielded  ;  but  the  mind  so  soon  accommodates 
itself  to  the  necessities  of  the  body,  that  this  poor  wagoner's 
house  of  call,  which  he  would  have  despised  yesterday  became 
now  quite  a  choice  hotel;  while  his  dish  of  eggs  and  bacon, 
and  his  mug  of  beer,  was' not  by  any  means  the  coarse  fare 
he  had  supposed,  but  fully  bore  out  the  inscription  on  the 
window  shutter,  which  proclaimed  those  viands  to  be  "  good 
entertainment  for  travelers." 

He  pushed  away  his  empty  plate;  and  with  a  second  mug 
upon  the  hearth  before  him,  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  fire 
until  his  eyes  ached.  Then  he  looked  at  the  highly-colored 
scripture  pieces  on  the  wall,  in  little  black  frames  like  com- 
mon shaving-glasses,  and  saw  how  the  wise  men  (with  a  strong 
family  likeness  among  them)  worshiped  in  a  pink  manger; 
and  how  the  prodigal  son  came  home  in  red  rags  to  a 
purple  father,  and  already  feasted  his  imagination  on  a  sea- 
green  calf.  Then  he  glanced  through  the  window  at  the 
falling    rain,  coming  down  aslant  upon  the  sign-post  over 


222  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

against  the  house,  and  overflowing  the  horse-trough;  an  ■ 
then  he  looked  at  the  fire  again,  and  seemed  lo  de^- 
cry  a  doubly  distant  London,  retreating  among  the  fragments 
of  the  burning  wood. 

He  had  repeated  this  process  in  just  the  same  order,  many 
times,  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  necessity,  when  the  sound  of 
wheels  called  his  attention  to  the  window,  out  of  its  regular 
turn;  and  there  he  beheld  a  kind  of  a  light  van  drawn  by  four 
horses;  and  laden,  as  well  as  he  could  see  (for  it  was  covered 
in),  with  com  and  straw.  The  driver,  who  was  alone,  stopped 
at  the  door  to  water  his  team,  and  presently  came  stamping 
and  shaking  the  wet  off  his  ftat  and  coat,  into  the  room  where 
Martin  sat. 

He  was  a  red-faced,  burly  young  fellow;  smart  in  his  way, 
and  with  a  good-humored  countenance.  As  he  advanced 
toward  the  fire,  he  touched  his  shining  forehead  with  the 
forefinger  of  his  stiff  leather  glove,  by  way  of  salutation;  and 
said  (rather  unnecessarily)  that  it  was  an  uncommon  wet 
day. 

*'  Ver)'  wet,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  don't  know  as  ever  I  see  a  wetter.** 

"  I  never  felt  one,"  said  Manin. 

The  driver  glanced  at  Martin's  soiled  dress,  and  his  damp 
shirt  sleeves,  and  his  coat  hung  up  to  dr)';  and  said,  after  a 
pause,  as  he  warmed  his  hands  : 

"  You  have  been  caught  in  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  short  reply. 

**  Out  riding,  may  be  ?  "  said  the  driver. 

"  I  should  have  been,  if  I  owned  a  horse;  but  I  don't," 
returned  Martin. 

"  That's  bad,"  said  the  driver.    ' 

**  And  may  be  worse,"  said  Martin. 

Now  the  driver  said  "  That's  bad,"  not  so  much  because 
Martin  didn't  own  a  horse,  as  because  he  said  he  didn't  with 
ail  the  reckless  desperation  of  his  mood  and  circumstances, 
and  so  left  a  great  deal  to  be  inferred.  Martin  put  his  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  whistled,  when  he  had  retorted  on  the 
driver ;  thus  giving  him  to  understand  that  he  didn't  care  a 
pin  for  fortune;  that  he  was  above  pretending  to  be  her 
favorite  when  he  was  not  ;  and  that  he  snapped  his  fingers  at 
her,  the  driver  and  ever)-  body  else. 

The  driver  looked  at  him  stealthily  for  a  minute  or  so;  and 
in  the  pauses  of  his  warming,  whistled  too.  At  length  he 
iu>ked.  as  he  pointed  his  thumb  toward  the  road. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  223 

"  Up  or  down  ?  " 

"Which  is  up  ?"  said  Martin. 

"  London,  of  course,"  said  the  driver. 

"  Up  then,"  said  Martin.  He  tossed  his  head  in  a  care- 
less manner  afterward,  as  if  he  would  have  added,  "  Now 
you  know  all  about  it;"  put  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets; 
changed  his  tune,  and  whistled  a  little  louder. 

"  I'm  going  up,"  observed  the  driver;  "  Hounslow,  ten 
miles  this  side  of  London." 

*'  Are  you  ?  "  cried  Martin,  stopping  short  and  looking  at 
him. 

The  driver  sprinkled  the  fire  with  his  wet  hat  until  it 
hissed  again,  and  answered,  "  Ay,  to  be  sure  he  was." 

'*  Why,  then,"  said  Martin,  "  I'll  be  plain  with  you.  You 
may  suppose  from  my  dress  that  I  have  money  to  spare.  I 
have  not.  All  I  can  afford  for  coach  hire  is  a  crown,  for  I 
have  but  two.  If  you  can  take  me  for  that,  and  my  waist- 
coat, or  this  silk  handkerchief,  do.  If  you  can't,  leave  it 
alone." 

**  Short  and  sweet,"  remarked  the  driver. 

"You  want  more,"  said  Martin,  "  Then  I  haven't  got 
more,  and  I  can't  get  it,  so  there's  an  end  of  that."  Where- 
upon he  began  to  whistle  again. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  wanted  more,  did  I  ? "  asked  the  driver, 
with  something  like  indignation. 

"  You  didn't  say  my  offer  was  enough,"  rejoined  Martin. 

"  Why  how  could  I,  when  you  wouldn't  let  me  ?  In  regard 
to  the  waistcoat,  I  wouldn't  have  a  man's  waistcoat,  much  less 
a  gentleman's  waistcoat,  on  my  mind,  for  no  consideration; 
but  the  silk  handkerchief's  another  thing;  and  if  you  was 
satisfied  when  we  got  to  Hounslow,  I  shouldn't  object  to 
chat  as  a  gift." 

*'  Is  it  a  bargain,  then  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  returned  the  other, 

*'  Then  finish  this  beer,"  said  Martin,  handing  him  the 
mug,  and  pulling  on  his  coat  with  great  alacrity;  "and  let 
us  be  off  as  soon  as  you  like." 

In  two  minutes  more  he  had  paid  his  bill,  which  amounted 
to  a  shilling;  was  lying  at  full  length  on  a  truss  of  straw, 
high  and  dry  at  the  top  of  the  van,  with  the  tilt  a  little  open 
in  front  for  the  convenience  of  talking  to  his  new  friend; 
and  was  moving  along  in  the  right  direction  with  a  most 
satisfactory  and  encouraging  briskness. 

The  driver's  name,  as  he  soon  informed  Martin,  was  Wil- 


224  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVViT. 

Ham  Simmons,  better  known  as  Bill;  and  his  spruce  appear- 
ance was  sufficiently  explained  by  his  connection  with  a 
large  stage-coaching  establishment  at  Hounslow,  whither  he 
was  conveying  his  load  from  a  farm  belonging  to  the  con- 
cern in  Wiltshire.  He  vvas  frequently  up  and  down  the  road 
on  such  errands,  he  said,  and  to  look  after  the  sick  and  rest 
horses,  of  which  animals  he  had  much  to  relate  that  occu- 
pied a  long  time  in  the  telling.  He  aspired  to  the  dignity 
of  the  regular  box,  and  expected  an  appointment  on  the 
first  vacancy.  He  was  musical  besides,  and  had  a  little 
keybugle  in  his  pocket,  on  which,  whenever  the  conversa- 
tion flagged,  he  played  the  first  part  of  a  great  many  tunes, 
and  regularly  broke  down  in  the  second. 

"Ah!  "  said  Bill,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  drew  the  back  of  his 
hand  across  his  lips,  and  put  this  instrument  in  his  pocket, 
after  screwing  off  the  mouthpiece  to  drain  it;  ''Lummy 
Ned,  of  the  Light  Salisbury,  he  was  the  one  for  musical 
talents.  He  was  a  guard.  What  you  may  call  a  guard'an 
angel,  was  Ned." 

''  Is  he  dead  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Dead!  "  replied  the  other,  with  a  contemptuous  emphasis. 
*'  Not  he.  You  won't  catch  Ned  a-dying  easy.  No,  no.  He 
knows  better  than  that." 

"You  spoke  of  him  in  the  past  tense,"  observed  Martin, 
"  so  I  supposed  he  was  no  more." 

"He's  no  more  in  England,"  said  Bill,  "if  that's  what 
you  mean.     He  went  to  the  U-nited  States." 

"  Did  he  ? "  asked  Martin,  with  sudden  interest.  "  When  ? " 

"  Five  year  ago,  or  thenabout,"  said  Bill.  "  He  had  set 
up  in  the  public  line  here,  and  couldn't  meet  his  engage- 
ments, so  he  cut  off  to  Liverpool  one  day,  without  saying 
any  thing  about  it,  and  went  and  shipped  himself  for  the 
U-nited  States." 

"Well?"  said  Martin. 

"Well!  as  he  landed  there  without  a  penny  to  bless  him- 
self with,  of  course  they  wos  very  glad  to  see  him  in  the 
U-nited  States." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Martin,  with  some  scorn. 

"What  do  I  mean?"  said  Bill.  "Why,  that.  All  men 
are  ahke  in  the  U-nited  States,  an't  they  ?  It  makes  no  odds 
whether  a  man  has  a  thousand  pound,  or  nothing,  there. 
Particular  in  New  York,  I'm  told,  where  Ned  landed." 

"  New  York,  was  it  ?  "  asked  Martin,  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bill.     "  New  York.     I  know  that,  because  he 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  225 

sent  word  home  th?t  it  brought  old  York  to  his  mind,  quite 
wivid,  in  consequence  of  being  so  exactly  unlike  it  in  every 
respect.  I  don't  understand  wot  particular  business  Ned 
turned  his  mind  to  when  he  got  there;  but  he  wrote  home 
that  him  and  his  friends  was  alwas  a-singing  Ale  Columbia, 
and  blowing  up  the  president,  so  I  suppose  it  was  something 
in  the  public  line,  or  free-and-easy  way  again.  Any  how,  he 
made  his  fortune." 

"No!  "  cried  Martin. 

"Yes,  he  did,"  said  Bill.  ''  I  know  that,  because  he  lost 
it  all,  the  day  after,  in  six-and-twenty  banks  as  broke.  He 
settled  a  lot  of  the  notes  on  his  father,  when  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  they  was  really  stopped,  and  sent  'em  over  with 
a  dutiful  letter.  I  know  that,  because  they  was  shown  down 
our  yard  for  the  old  gentleman's  benefit,  that  he  might  treat 
himself  with  tobacco  in  the  workus." 

"  He  was  a  foolish  fellow  not  to  take  care  of  his  money 
when  he  had  it,"  said  Martin,  indignantly. 

"  There  you're  right,"  said  Bill,  *'  especially  as  it  was  all 
in  paper,  and  he  might  have  took  care  of  it  so  very  easy,  by 
folding  it  up  in  a  small  parcel." 

Martin  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  soon  afterward  fell 
asleep,  and  remained  so  for  an  hour  or  more.  When  he  awoke, 
finding  it  had  ceased  to  rain,  he  took  his  seat  beside  the 
driver  and  asked  him  several  questions;  as  how  long  had  the 
fortunate  guard  of  the  Light  Salisbury  been  in  crossing  the 
Atlantic;  at  what  time  of  the  year  had  he  sailed;  what  was 
the  name  of  the  ship  in  which  he  made  the  voyage;  how  much 
had  he  paid  for  passage-money;  did  he  suffer  greatly  from 
sea-sickness?  and  so  forth.  But  on  these  points  of  detail, 
his  friend  was  possessed  of  little  or  no  information;  either 
answering  obviously  at  random,  or  acknowledging  that  he 
had  never  heard,  or  had  forgotten;  nor,  although  he  returned 
to  the  charge  very  often,  could  he  obtain  any  useful  intelli- 
gence on  these  essential  particulars. 

They  jogged  on  all  day,  and  stopped  so  often — now  to 
refresh,  now  to  change  their  team  of  horses,  now  to 
exchange  or  bring  away  a  set  of  harness,  now  on  one  point 
of  business,  and  now  upon  another,  connected  with  the 
coaching  on  that  line  of  road — that  it  was  midnight  when 
they  reached  Hounslow.  A  little  short  of  the  stables  for 
which  the  van  was  bound,  Martin  got  down,  paid  his  crown, 
and  forced  his  silk  handkerchief  upon  his  honest  friend,  not- 
withstanding the  many  protestations  that  he  didn't  wish  to 


226  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

deprive  him  of  it,  with  which  he  tried  to  give  the  lie  to  his 
longing  looks.  That  done,  they  parted  company;  and  when 
the  van  had  driven  into  its  own  yard  and  the  gates  were 
closed,  Martin  stood  in  the  dark  street,  with  a  pretty  strong 
sense  of  being  shut  out,  alone,  upon  the  dreary  world,  with- 
out the  key  of  it. 

But  in  this  moment  of  despondency,  and  often  afterward, 
the  recollection  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  operated  as  a  cordial 
to  him;  awakening  in  his  breast  an  indignation  that  was 
very  wholesome  in  nerving  him  to  obstinate  endurance. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  fiery  dram  he  started  off  for 
London  without  more  ado.  Arriving  there  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  and  not  knowing  where  to  find  a  tavern  open,  he 
was  fain  to  stroll  about  the  streets  and  market-places  until 
morning. 

He  found  himself,  about  an  hour  before  dawn,  in  the 
humbler  regions  of  the  Adelphi;  and  addressing  himself 
to  a  man  in  a  fur-cap,  v/ho  was  taking  down  the  shutters 
of  an  obscure  public-house,  informed  him  that  he  was  a 
stranger,  and  inquired  if  he  could  have  a  bed  there.  It 
happened  by  good  luck  that  he  could.  Though  none  of 
the  gaudiest,  it  was  tolerably  clean,  and  Martin  felt  very  glad 
and  grateful  when  he  crept  into  it,  for  warmth,  rest,  and 
forgetfulness. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  awoke;  and  by 
the  time  he  had  washed  and  dressed,  and  broken  his  fast,  it 
was  growing  dusk  again.  This  was  all  the  better,  for  it  was 
now  a  matter  of  absolute  necessity  that  he  should  part  with 
his  watch  to  some  obliging  pawnbroker.  He  would  have 
waited  until  after  dark  for  this  purpose,  though  it  had  been 
the  longest  day  in  the  year,  and  he  had  begun  it  without  a 
breakfast. 

He  passed  more  golden  balls  than  all  the  jugglers  in 
Europe  have  juggled  with,  in  the  course  of  their  united  per- 
formances, before  he  could  determine  in  favor  of  any  par- 
ticular shop  where  those  symbols  were  displayed.  In  the 
end,  he  came  back  to  one  of  the  first  he  had  seen,  and  enter- 
ing by  a  side-door  in  a  court,  where  the  three  balls,  with  the 
legend  ''  Money  Lent,"  were  repeated  in  a  ghastly  transpar- 
ency, passed  into  one  of  a  series  of  little  closets,  or  private 
boxes,  erected  for  the  accommodation  of  the  more  bashful 
and  uninitiated  customers.  He  bolted  himself  in;  pulled 
out  his  watch;  and  laid  it  on  the  counter, 

"  Upon  my  life  and  soiiT  "  said  a  low  v^ice  in  the  next  box 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  227 

to  the  shopman  who  was  In  treaty  with  him,  "  you  must  make 
it  more;  you  must  make  it  a  trifle  more,  you  must  indeed' 
You  must  dispense  with  one  half-quarter  of  an  ounce  in 
weighing  out  your  pound  of  flesh,  my  best  of  friends,  and 
make  it  two-and-six." 

Martin  drew  back  involuntarily,  for  he  knew  the  voice  at 
once. 

''You're  always  full  of  your  chaff,"  said  the  shopman, 
rolling  up  the  article  (which  looked  like  a  shirt)  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  nibbing  his  pen  upon  the  counter. 

"  I  shall  never  be  full  of  my  wheat,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  as 
long  as  I  come  here.  Ha,  ha;  not  bad!  Make  it  two-and- 
six,  my  dear  friend,  positively  for  this  occasion  only.  Haif- 
a-crown is  a  delightful  coin.  Two-and-six!  Going  at  two- 
and-six!     For  the  last  time  at  two-and-six!  " 

'*  It'll  never  be  the  last  time  till  it's  quite  worn  out," 
rejoined  the  shopman.     ''  It's  grown  yellow  in  the  service  as 

It  IS. 

'*  Its  master  has  grown  yellow  in  the  service,  if  you  mean 
that,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Tigg;  *' in  the  patriotic  service  of 
an  ungrateful  country.  You  are  making  it  two-and-six,  I 
think?" 

"  I'm  making  it,"  returned  the  shopman,  '  what  it  always 
has  been — two  shillings.     Same  name  as  usual,  I  suppose**  " 

''Still  the  same  name,"  said  Mr.  Tigg;  "my  claim  to  the 
dormant  peerage  not  being  yet  established  by  the  House  of 
Lords." 

"  The  old  address?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Tigg;  "  I  have  removed  my  town 
establishment  from  thirty-eight  Mayfair,  to  number  fifteen 
hundred-and-forty-two,  Park  Lane." 

"  Come,  I'm  not  going  to  put  down  that,  you  know,"  said 
the  shopman  with  a  grin. 

"  You  may  put  down  what  you  please,  my  friend,"  quoth 
Mr.  Tigg.  "  The  fact  is  still  the  same.  The  apartments  for 
the  under-butler  and  the  fifth  footman  being  of  a  most  coi- 
founded  low  and  vulgar  kind  at  thirty-eight  Mayfair,  I  have 
been  compelled,  in  my  regard  for  the  feelings  which  do  th  im 
so  much  honor,  to  take  on  lease,  for  seven,  fourteen,  or 
twenty-one  years,  renewable  at  the  option  of  the  tenant,  the 
elegant  and  commodious  family  mansion,  number  fifteen- hun- 
dred-and-forty-two, Park  Lane.  Make  it  two-and-six,  and 
come  and  see  me  !  " 

The  shopman  was  so  highly  entertained  by  this  piece  of 


228  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

humor,  that  Mr.  Tigg  himself  could  not  repress  some  little 
show  of  exultation.  It  vented  itself,  in  part,  in  a  desire  to 
see  how  the  occupant  of  the  next  box  received  his  pleasantry  ; 
to  ascertain  which,  he  glanced  round  the  partition,  and 
immediately,  by  the  gaslight,  recognized  Martin. 

"  I  wish  I  may  die,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  stretching  out  his  body 
so  far  that  his  head  was  as  much  in  Martin's  little  cell  as 
Martin's  own  head  was,  **  but  this  is  one  of  the  most  tremen- 
dous meetings  in  ancient  or  modern  history  !  How  are 
you  ?  What  is  the  news  from  the  agricultural  districts  ? 
How  are  our  friends  the  P.'s  ?  Ha,  ha  !  David,  pay  par- 
ticular attention  to  this  gentleman,  immediately,  as  a  friend 
of  mine,  I  beg." 

"  Here  !  Please  to  give  me  the  most  you  can  for  this," 
said  Martin,  handing  the  watch  to  the  shopman,  "  I  want 
money  sorely." 

'*  He  wants  money  sorely  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tigg  with  exces- 
sive sympathy.  "  David,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  do 
your  very  utmost  for  my  friend,  who  wants  money  sorely. 
You  will  deal  with  my  friend  as  if  he  were  myself.  A  gold 
hunting-watch,  David,  engine-turned,  capped  and  jeweled 
in  four  holes,  escape  movement,  horizontal  lever,  and  war- 
ranted to  perform  correctly,  upon  my  personal  reputation, 
who  have  observed  it  narrowly  for  many  years,  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances  ;  "  here  he  winked  at  Martin,  that 
he  might  understand  this  recommendation  would  have  an 
immense  effect  upon  the  shopman  :  "  what  do  you  say, 
David,  to  my  friend  ?  Be  very  particular  to  deserve  my  cus- 
tom and  recommendation,  David." 

^'  I  can  lend  you  three  pound  on  this,  if  you  like,"  said 
the  shopman  to  Martin,  confidentially.  "  It's  very  old- 
fashioned.     I  couldn't  say  more." 

"  And  devilish  handsome,  too,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg.  "  Two 
twelve-six  for  the  watch,  and  seven-and-six  for  personal 
regard.  I  am  gratified  :  it  may  be  weakness,  but  I  am. 
Three  pound  will  do.  We  take  it.  The  name  of  my  friend 
is  Smivey  :  Chicken  Smivey,  of  Holborn,  twenty-six-and-a- 
half  B  :  lodger."  Here  he  winked  at  Martin  again,  to  apprise 
him  that  all  the  forms  and  ceremonies  prescribed  by  law  were 
now  complied  with,  and  nothing  remained  but  the  receipt 
of  the  money. 

In  point  of  fact,  this  proved  to  be  the  case,  for  Martin, 
who  had  no  resource  but  to  take  what  was  offered  him,  signi- 
fied his  acquiescence  by  a  nod  of  his  head,  and  presently 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  229 

came  out  with  the  cash  in  his  pocket.  He  was  joined  in  the 
entry  by  Mr.  Tigg,  who  warmly  congratulated  him,  as  he 
took  his  arm  and  accompanied  him  into  the  street,  on  the 
successful  issue  of  the  negotiation. 

"  As  for  my  part  in  the  same,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  don't  men- 
tion it.     Don't  compliment  me,  for  I  can't  bear  it  !  " 

"  I  have  no  such  intention,  I  assure  you,"  retorted  Martin, 
releasing  his  arm  and  stopping. 

"  You  oblige  me  very  much,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.  "Thank  you." 

"  Now,  sir,"  observed  Martin,  biting  his  lip,  "  this  is  a 
large  town,  and  we  can  easily  find  different  ways  in  it.  If 
you  will  show  me  which  is  your  way,  I  will  take  another." 

Mr.  Tigg  was  about  to  speak,  but  Martin  interposed  : 

'''  I  need  scarcely  tell  you,  after  what  you  have  just  sfeen, 
that  I  have  nothing  to  bestow  upon  your  friend,  Mr.  Slyme. 
And  it  is  quite  as  unnecessary  for  me  to  tell  you  that  1  don't 
desire  the  honor  of  your  company." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  Hold  ! 
There  is  a  most  remarkably  long-headed,  flowing-bearded, 
and  patriarchal  proverb,  which  observes  that  it  is  the  duty 
of  a  man  to  be  just  before  he  is  generous.  Be  just  now, 
and  you  can  be  generous  presently.  Do  not  confuse  me 
with  the  man  Slyme.  Do  not  distinguish  the  man  Slyme  as 
a  friend  of  mine,  for  he  is  no  such  thing.  I  have  been  com- 
pelled, sir,  to  abandon  the  party  whom  you  call  Slyme.  I 
have  no  knowledge  of  the  party  whom  you  call  Slyme.  I 
am,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  striking  himself  upon  the  breast,  "a 
premium  tulip,  of  a  very  different  growth  and  cultivation 
from  the  cabbage  Slyme,  sir." 

'*  It  matters  very  little  to  me,"  said  Martin  coolly, 
**  whether  you  have  set  up  as  a  vagabond  on  your  own 
account,  or  are  still  trading  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Slyme.  I  wish 
to  hold  no  correspondence  with  you.  In  the  devil's  name, 
man,"  said  Martin,  scarcely  able  despite  his  vexation  to 
repress  a  smile,  as  Mr.  Tigg.  stood  leaning  his  back  against 
the  shutters  of  a  shop  window,  adjusting  his  hair  with  great 
composure,  "  will  you  go  one  way  or  other  ? " 

'*  You  will  allow  me  to  remind  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg, 
with  sudden  dignity,  "  that  you — not  I — that  you — I  say 
emphatically,  you — have  reduced  the  proceedings  of  this 
evening  to  a  cold  and  distant  matter  of  business,  when  I  was 
disposed  to  place  them  on  a  friendly  footing.  It  being  made 
a  matter  of  business,  sir,  I  beg  to  say  that  I  expect  a  trifle 
(which  I  shall  bestow  in  charity)  as  a  commission  upon  the 


230  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

pecuniary  advance,  in  which  I  have  rendered  you  my  humble 
services.  After  the  terms  in  which  you  have  addressed  me, 
sir,"  concluded  Mr.  Tigg,  "you  will  not  insult  me,  if  you 
please,  by  offering  more  than  half-a-crown." 

Martin  drew  that  piece  of  money  from  his  pocket,  and 
tossed  it  toward  him.  Mr.  Tigg  caught  it,  looked  at  it  to 
assure  himself  of  its  goodness,  spun  it  in  the  air  after  the 
manner  of  a  pieman,  and  buttoned  it  up.  Finally,  he  raised 
his  hat  an  inch  or  two  from  his  head,  with  a  military  air, 
and,  after  pausing  a  moment  with  deep  gravity,  as  to  decide 
in  which  direction  he  should  go,  and  to  what  earl  or  mar- 
quis among  his  friends  he  should  give  the  preference  in  his 
next  call,  stuck  his  hands  in  his  skirt-pockets  and  swaggered 
round  the  corner.  Martin  took  the  directly  opposite  course  ; 
and  so,  to  his  great  content,  they  parted  company. 

It  was  with  a  bitter  sense  of  humiliation  that  he  cursed, 
again  and  again,  the  mischance  of  having  encountered  this 
man  in  the  pawnbroker's  shop.  The  only  comfort  he  had  in 
the  recollection  was,  Mr.  Tigg's  voluntary  avowal  of  a  sep- 
aration between  himself  and  Slyme,  that  would  at  least  pre- 
vent his  circumstances  (so  Martin  argued)  from  being  known 
to  any  member  of  his  family,  the  bare  possibility  of  which 
filled  him  with  shame  and  wounded  pride.  Abstractedly, 
there  was  greater  reason,  perhaps,  for  supposing  any  declar- 
ation of  Mr.  Tigg's  to  be  false,  than  for  attaching  the  least 
credence  to  it ;  but  remembering  the  terms  on  which  the 
intimacy  between  that  gentleman  and  his  bosom  friend  had 
subsisted,  and  the  strong  probability  of  Mr.  Tigg's  having 
established  an  independent  business  of  his  own  on  Mr.  Slyme's 
connection,  it  had  a  reasonable  appearance  of  probability  ; 
at  all  events,  Martin  hoped  so  ;  and  that  went  a  long  way. 

His  first  step,  now  that  he  had  a  supply  of  ready  money 
for  his  present  necessities,  was,  to  retain  his  bed  at  the  pub- 
lic-house until  further  notice,  and  to  write  a  formal  note  to 
Tom  Pinch  (for  he  knew  Pecksniff  would  see  it)  requesting 
to  have  his  clothes  forwarded  to  London  by  coach,  with  a 
direction  to  be  left  at  the  office  until  called  f^n  These 
measures  taken,  he  passed  the  interval  before  theJsox  arrived 
— three  days — in  making  inquiries  relative  to  American  ves- 
sels at  the  offices  of  various  shipping-agents  in  the  city  ;  and 
in  lingering  about  the  docks  and  wharves,  with  the  faint  hope 
of  stumbling  upon  some  engagement  for  the  voyage,  as  clerk 
or  supercargo,  or  custodian  of  something  or  somebody,  which 
would  enable  him  to  procure  a  free  passage.     But,  findmg 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  231 

soon,  that  no  such  means  of  employment  were  likely  to  pre- 
sent themselves,  and  dreading  the  consequences  of  delay,  he 
drew  up  an  advertisement,  stating  what  he  wanted,  and 
inserted  it  in  the  leading  newspapers.  Pending  the  receipt 
of  the  twenty  or  thirty  answers  which  he  vaguely  expected, 
he  reduced  his  wardrobe  to  the  narrowest  limits  consistent 
with  decent  respectability,  and  carried  the  overplus  at  dif- 
ferent times  to  the  pawnbroker's  shop,  for  conversion  into 
money. 

And  it  was  strange,  very  strange,  even  to  himself,  to  find, 
how  by  quick  though  almost  imperceptible  degrees  he  lost 
his  delicacy  and  self-respect,  and  gradually  came  to  do  that 
as  a  matter  of  course,  without  the  least  compunction,  which 
but  a  few  short  days  before  had  galled  him  to  the  quick.  The 
first  time  he  visited  the  pawnbroker's,  he  felt  on  his  way 
there  as  if  every  person  whom  he  passed  suspected  whither 
he  was  going  ;  and  on  his  way  back  again  as  if  the  whole 
human  tide  he  stemmed,  knew  well  where  he  had  come  from. 
When  did  he  care  to  think  of  their  discernment  now  !  In 
his  first  wanderings  up  and  down  the  weary  streets,  he 
coun<"3rfeited  the  walk  of  one  who  had  an  object  in  view  ; 
but  soon  there  came  upon  him  the  sauntering,  slipshod  gait 
of  listless  idleness,  and  the  lounging  at  street-corners, 
and  plucking  and  biting  of  stray  bits  of  straw,  and  strolling 
up  and  down  the  same  place,  and  looking  into  the 
same  shop-windows,  with  a  miserable  indifference, 
fifty  times  a  day.  At  first,  he  came  out  from  his 
lodgings  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  being  observed — even 
by  those  chance  passers-by,  on  whom  he  had  never 
looked  before,  and  hundreds  to  one  would  never  see  again — 
issuing  in  the  morning  from  a  public-house;  but  now,  in  his 
comings-out  and  goings-in  he  did  not  mind  to  lounge  about 
the  door,  or  to  stand  sunning  himself  in  careless  thought 
beside  the  wooden  stem,  studded  from  head  to  heel  with 
pegs,  on  which  the  beer-pots  dangled  like  so  many  bows 
upon  a  pewter-tree.  And  yet  it  took  but  five  weeks  to  reach 
the  lowest  round  of  this  tall  ladder! 

Oh,  moralists,  who  treat  of  happiness  and  self-respect, 
innate  in  every  sphere  of  life,  and  shedding  light  on  every 
grain  of  dust  in  God's  highway,  so  smooth  below  your  car- 
riage-wheels, so  rough  beneath  the  tread  of  naked  feet, 
bethink  yourselves  in  looking  on  the  swift  descent  of  men 
who  have  lived  in  their  own  esteem,  that  there  are  scores  of 
thousands  breathing  now,  and  breathing  thick  with  painful 


232  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

toil,  who  in  that  high  respect  have  never  lived  at  all,  nor 
had  a  chance  of  life!  Go  ye,  who  rest  sc  placidly  upon  the 
sacred  bard  who  had  been  young,  and  when  he  strung  his 
harp  was  old,  and  had  never  seen  the  righteous  forsaken,  or 
his  seed  begging  their  bread;  go,  teachers  of  content  and 
honest  pride,  into  the  mine,  the  mill,  the  forge,  the  squalid 
depths  of  deepest  ignorance,  and  uttermost  abyss  of  man's 
neglect,  and  say  can  any  hopeful  plant  spring  up  in  air  so 
foul  that  it  extinguishes  the  soul's  bright  torch  as  fast  as  it 
is  kindled!  And,  oh!  ye  Pharisees  of  the  nineteen  hun- 
dredth year  of  Christian  knowledge,  who  soundingly  appeal 
to  human  nature,  see  that  it  be  human  first.  Take  heed  it 
has  not  been  transformed,  during  your  slumber  and  the 
sleep  of  generations,  into  the  nature  of  the  beasts. 

Five  weeks!  Of  all  the  twenty  or  thirty  answers,  not  one 
had  come.  His  money,  even  the  additional  stock  he  had 
raised  from  the  disposal  of  his  spare  clothes  (and  that  was 
not  much,  for  clothes,  though  dear  to  buy,  are  cheap  to 
pawn),  was  fast  diminishing.  Yet  what  could  he  do  ?  At 
times  an  agony  came  over  him  in  which  he  darted  forth 
again,  though  he  was  but  newly  home;  and,  returning  to 
some  place  where  he  had  been  already  twenty  times,  made 
some  new  attempt  to  gain  his  end,  but  always  unsuccess- 
fully. He  was  years  and  years  too  old  for  a  cabin  boy,  and 
years  upon  years  too  inexperienced  to  be  accepted  as  a  com- 
mon seaman.  His  dress  and  manner,  too,  militated  fatally 
against  any  such  proposal  as  the  latter;  and  yet  he  was 
reduced  to  making  it;  for,  even  if  he  could  have  contem- 
plated the  being  set  down  in  America,  totally  without  money, 
he  had  not  enough  left  now  for  a  steerage-passage  and  the 
poorest  provisions  upon  the  voyage. 

It  is  an  illustration  of  a  very  common  tendency  in  the 
mind  of  man,  that  all  this  time  he  never  once  doubted,  one 
may  almost  say  the  certainty  of  doing  great  things  in  the 
new  world,  if  he  could  only  get  there.  In  proportion  as  he 
became  more  and  more  dejected  by  his  present  circum- 
stances, and  the  means  of  gaining  America  receded  from 
his  grasp,  the  more  he  fretted  himself  with  the  conviction 
that  that  was  the  only  place  in  which  he  could  hoj)c  to 
achieve  any  high  end,  and  worried  his  brain  with  the  tht)ught 
that  men  going  there  in  the  meanwhile  might  anticipate  him 
in  the  attainment  of  those  objects  which  were  dearest  to  his 
heart.  He  often  thought  of  John  Westlock,  and  besides  look- 
ing out  for  liim  on  all  occasions,  actually  walked  about  Lon- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  233 

Jon  for  three  days  together,  for  the  express  purpose  of  meet- 
ing  with  him.  But,  although  he  failed  in  this;  and  although 
he  would  not  have  scrupled  to  borrow  money  of  him;  and 
although  he  believed  that  John  would  have  lent  it;  yet  still  he 
could  not  bring  his  mind  to  write  to  Pinch  and  inquire  where 
he  was  to  be  found.  For  although,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was 
fond  of  Tom  after  his  own  fashion,  he  could  not  endure 
the  thought  (feeling  so  superior  to  Tom),  of  making  him  the 
stepping-stone  to  his  fortune,  or  being  any  thing  to  him  but 
a  patron;  and  his  pride  so  revolted  from  the  idea,  that  it 
restrained  him  even  now. 

It  might  have  yielded,  however;  and  no  doubt  must  have 
yielded  soon,  but  for  a  very  strange  and  unlooked-for  occur- 
rence. 

The  five  weeks  had  quite  run  out,  and  he  was  in  a  truly 
desperate  plight,  when  one  evening,  having  just  returned  to 
his  lodging,  and  being  in  the  act  of  lighting  his  candle  at  the 
gas  jet  in  the  bar  before  stalking  moodily  up-stairs  to  his  own 
room,  his  landlord  called  him  by  his  name.  Now,  as  he  had 
never  told  it  to  the  man,  but  had  scrupulously  kept  it  to  him- 
self, he  was  not  a  little  startled  by  this,  and  so  plainly  showed 
his  agitation,  that  the  landlord,  to  re-assure  him,  said  "  it  was 
only  a  letter." 

"A  letter!  "  cried  Martin. 

'*  For  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  said  the  landlord,  reading 
the  superscription  of  one  he  held  in  his  hand.  "  Noon. 
Chief  office.     Paid." 

Martin  took  it  from  him,  thanked  him,  and  walked  up- 
stairs. It  was  not  sealed,  but  pasted  close;  the  handwrit- 
ing was  quite  unknown  to  him.  He  opened  it,  and  found 
inclosed,  without  any  name,  address,  or  other  inscription  or 
explanation  of  any  kind  whatever,  a  Bank  of  England  note 
for  twenty  pounds. 

To  say  that  he  was  perfectly  stunned  with  astonishment 
and  delight  ;  that  he  looked  again  and  again  at  the  note  and 
the  wrapper  ;  that  he  hurried  below  stairs  to  make  quite  cer- 
tain that  the  note  was  a  good  note  ;  and  then  hurried  up 
again  to  satisfy  himself  for  the  fiftieth  time  that  he  had  not 
overlooked  some  scrap  of  writing  on  the  wTapper  ;  that  he 
exhausted  and  bewildered  himself  with  conjectures  ;  and 
could  make  nothing  of  it  but  that  there  the  note  was,  and  he 
was  suddenly  enriched  ;  would  be  only  to  relate  so  many 
matters  of  course,  to  no  purpose.  The  final  upshot  of  the 
business  at  that  time  was,  that  he  resolved    to    treat   hmi- 


234  Mi^RTlN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

self  to  a  comfortable  but  frugal  meal  in  his  own  chamber;  and 
having  ordered  a  fire  to  be  kindled,  went  out  to  purchase  it 
forthwith. 

He  bought  some  cold  beef,  and  ham,  and  French  bread, 
and  butter,  and  came  back  with  his  pockets  pretty  heavily 
laden.  It  was  somewhat  of  a  damping  circumstance  to  find 
the  room  full  of  smoke,  which  was  attributable  to  tv\-o  causes; 
firstly,  to  the  flue  being  naturally  vicious  and  a  smoker;  and 
secondly,  to  their  having  forgotten,  in  lighting  the  fire,  an  odd 
sack  or  two  and  some  other  trifles,  which  had  been  put  up  the 
chimney  to  keep  the  rain  out.  They  had  already  remedied 
this  over-sight,  however  ;  and  propped  up  the  window-sash 
with  a  bundle  of  firev»^ood  to  keep  it  open  ;  so  that  except 
in  being  rather  inflammatory  to  the  eyes  and  choking  to 
the  lungs,  the  apartment  was  quite  comfortable. 

Martin  was  in  no  vein  to  quarrel  vrith  it,  if  it  had  been  in 
less  tolerable  order,  especially  when  a  gleaming  pint  of  por- 
ter was  set  upon  the  table,  and  the  servant  girl  withdrew, 
bearing  with  her  particular  instructions  relative  to  the  pro- 
duction of  something  hot,  when  he  should  ring  the  bell. 
The  cold  meat  being  wrapped  in  a  play-bill,  Martin  laid  the 
cloth  by  spreading  the  document  on  the  little  round  table 
with  the  print  downwards  ;  and  arranging  the  collation  upon 
it.  The  foot  of  the  bed,  which  was  very  close  to  the  fire, 
answered  for  a  sideboard  ;  and  when  he  had  completed 
these  preparations,  he  squeezed  an  old  arm-chair  into  the 
warmest  corner,  and  sat  down  to  enjoy  himself. 

He  had  begun  to  eat  with  great  appetite,  glancing  round 
the  room  meanwhile  with  a  triumphant  anticipation  of 
quitting  it  forever  on  the  morrow,  when  his  attention  was 
arrested  by  a  stealthy  footstep  on  the  stairs,  and  presently 
by  a  knock  at  the  chamber  door,  which,  although  it  was  a 
gentle  knock  enough,  communicated  such  a  start  to  the 
bundle  of  firewood,  that  it  instantly  leaped  out  of  window, 
and  plunged  into  the  street. 

"  More  coals,  I  suppose,"   said  Martin.     "  Come  in  !  " 

"  It  ain't  a  liberty,  sir,  though  it  seems  so,"  rejoined  a  man's 
voice.     "  Your  servant,  sir.     Hope  you're  pretty  well,  sir." 

Martin  stared  at  the  face  that  was  bowing  in  the  doorway; 
perfectly  remembering  the  features  and  expression,  but 
quite  forgetting  to  whom  they  belonged. 

"  Tapley,  sir,"  said  his  visitor.  "  Him  as  formerly  lived 
at  the  Dragon,  sir,  and  was  forced  to  leave  in  consequence 
of  a  want  of  jollity,  sir," 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  235 

"  To  be  sure  I  "  cried  Martin.  "  Why,  how  did  you 
come  here  ? " 

"  Right  through  the  passage,  and  up-stairs,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  How  did  you  find  me  out,  I  mean  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I've  passed  you  once  or  twice 
in  the  street  if  I'm  not  mistaken  ;  and  when  I  was  a-looking 
in  at  the  beef-and-ham  shop  just  now,  along  with  a  hungry 
sweep,  as  was  very  much  calculated  to  make  a  man  jolly, 
sir,  I  see  you  a-buying  that." 

Martin  reddened  as  he  pointed  to  the  table,  and  said 
somewhat  hastily  : 

''  Well  !     What  then  ?  " 

*'  Why  then,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I  made  bold  to  foller  ; 
and  as  I  told  'em  down-stairs  that  you  expected  me,  I  was 
let  up." 

"  Are  you  charged  with  any  message,  that  you  told  them 
you  were  expected  ?  "  inquired  Martin. 

*'  No,  sir,  I  an't,"  said  Mark.  "  That  was  what  you  may 
call  a  pious  fraud,  sir,  that  w^as." 

Martin  cast  an  angry  look  at  him  ;  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  fellow's  merry  face,  and  in  his  manner,  which 
with  all  its  cheerfulness  was  far  from  being  obtrusive  or 
familiar,  that  quite  disarmed  him  He  had  lived  a  solitary 
life  too,  for  many  weeks,  and  the  voice  was  pleasant  in 
his  ear. 

"  Tapley,"  he  said,  '^  I'll  deal  openly  Avith  you.  From  all 
I  can  judge,  and  from  all  I  have  heard  of  you  through  Pinch, 
you  are  not  a  likely  kind  of  fellow  to  have  been  brought  here 
by  impertinent  curiosity  or  any  other  offensive  motive.  Sit 
down.     I'm  glad  to  see  you." 

'^  Thankee,  sir,"  said  Mark.     ''  I'd  as  lieve  stand." 

"  If  you  don't  sit  down,"  retorted  Martin,  '*  I'll  not  talk  to 
you." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  observed  Mark.  "  Your  will's  a  law, 
sir.  Down  it  is  ;  "  and  he  sat  down  accordingly,  upon  the 
bedstead. 

*'  Help  yourself,"  said  Martin,  handing  him  the  only  knife. 

'*  Thankee,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.     "  After  you've  done." 

**  If  you  don't  take  it  now,  you'll  not  have  any,"  said 
Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.  "  That  being  your 
desire — now  it  is."  With  which  reply  he  gravely  helped 
himself,  and  went  on  eating.  Martin  having  done  the  like 
for  a  short  time  in  silence,  said  abruptly  : 


236  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  London  ?  " 

'*  Nothing  at  all,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark. 

"  How's  that  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  I  want  a  place,"  said  Mark. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,"  said  Martin. 

'' — To  attend  upon  a  single  gentleman,"  resumed  Mark. 
'*  If  from  the  country  the  more  desirable.  Makeshifts 
would  be  preferred.     Wages  no  object." 

He  said  this  so  pointedly,  that  Martin  stopped  in  his  eat- 
ing, and  said  : 

''  If  you  mean  me — 

"  Yes,  I  do,  sir,"  interposed  Mark. 

"  Then  you  may  judge  from  my  style  of  living  here,  of  my 
means  of  keeping  a  man-servant.  Besides,  I  am  going  to 
America  immediately." 

"Well,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  quite  unmoved  by  this  intel- 
ligence, "  from  all  that  ever  I  heard  about  it,  I  should  say 
America  is  a  very  likely  sort  of  place  for  me  to  be  jolly  in  !  " 

Again  Martin  looked  at  him  angrily  ;  and  again  his  anger 
melted  away  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  what  t's  the  use  of  us 
a-going  round  and  round,  and  hiding  behind  the  corner, 
and  dodging  up  and  down,  when  we  can  come  straight  to 
the  point  in  six  words  ?  I've  had  my  eye  upon  you  any 
time  this  fortnight.  I  see  well  enough  there's  a  screw  loose 
in  your  affairs.  I  know'd  well  enough  the  first  time  I  see 
you  down  at  the  Dragon  that  it  must  be  so,  sooner  or  later. 
Now,  sir,  here  am  I,  without  a  sitiwation  ;  without  any  want 
of  wages  for  a  year  to  come  ;  for  I  saved  up  (I  didn't  mean 
to  do  it  but  I  couldn't  help  it)  at  the  Dragon — here  am  I 
with  a  liking  for  what's  wentersome,  and  a  liking  for  you, 
and  a  wish  to  come  out  strong  under  circumstances  as  would 
keep  other  men  down  ;  and  will  you  take  me,  or  will  you 
leave  me  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  take  you  ? "  cried  Martin. 

"  When  I  say  take  !  "  rejoined  Mark,  "  I  mean  will  you 
let  me  go  ?  and  when  I  say  will  you  let  me  go,  I  mean  will 
you  let  me  go  along  with  you  ?  for  go  I  will,  somehow  or 
other.  Now  that  you've  said  America,  I  see  clear  at  once, 
that  that's  the  place  for  me  to  be  jolly  in.  l^iercfore,  if  I 
don't  pay  my  own  passage  in  the  ship  you  go  in,  sir,  I'll  pay 
my  own  passage  in  another.  And  mark  my  words,  if  I 
go  alone  it  shall  be,  to  carry  out  the  principle,  in  the 
rottenest,  craziest,  leakingest   tub  of  a  wessel  that  a  place 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  237 

can  be  got  in  for  love  or  money.  So  if  I'm  lost  upon  the 
way,  sir,  there'll  be  a  drowned  man  at  your  door — and 
always  a  knocking  double  knocks  at  it,  too,  or  never  trust 
me  !  " 

*'  This  is  mere  folly,"  said  Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  it, 
because  if  you  don't  mean  to  let  me  go,  you'll  be  more 
comfortable,  perhaps,  on  account  of  thinking  so.  There- 
fore I  contradict  no  gentleman.  But  all  I  say  is,  that  if  I 
don't  emigrate  to  America  in  that  case,  in  the  beastliest  old 
cockleshell  as  goes  out  of  port,  I'm " 

"  You  don't  mean  what  you   say,  I'm  sure,"   said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  cried  Mark. 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  better,"  rejoined  Martin. 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mark,  with  the  same  air  of  perfect 
satisfaction.  "  Let  it  stand  that  way  at  present,  sir,  and 
wait  and  see  how  it  turns  out.  Why,  love  my  heart  alive  ! 
the  only  doubt  I  have,  is,  whether  there's  any  credit  in  going 
with  a  gentleman  like  you,  that's  as  certain  to  make  his 
way  there  as  a  gimlet  is  to  go  through  soft  deal." 

This  was  touching  Martin  on  his  weak  point,  and  having 
him  at  a  great  advantage.  He  could  not  help  thinking, 
either,  what  a  brisk  fellow  this  Mark  was,  and  how  great  a 
change  he  had  wrought  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  dismal 
little  room  already. 

"  Why,  certainly,  Mark,"  he  said,  *'  I  have  hopes  of  doing 
well  there,  or  I  shouldn't  go.  I  may  have  the  qualifications 
for  doing  well,  perhaps." 

"  Of  course  you  have,  sir,"  returned  Mark  Tapley. 
"  Every  body  knows  that." 

"  You  see,"  said  Martin,  leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand, 
and  looking  at  the  fire,  ''  ornamental  architecture  applied  to 
domestic  purposes,  can  hardly  fail  to  be  in  great  request  in 
that  country  ;  for  men  are  constantly  changing  their  resi- 
dences there,  and  moving  further  off  ;  and  its  clear  they 
must  have  houses  to  live  in." 

"  I  should  say,  sir,"  observed  Mark,  "that  that's  a  state  of 
things  as  opens  one  of  the  jolliest  look-outs  for  domestic 
architecture  that  ever  I  heerd  tell  on." 

Martin  glanced  at  him  hastily,  not  feeling  quite  free  from 
a  suspicion  that  this  remark  implied  a  doubt  of  the  success- 
ful issue  of  his  plans.  But  Mr.  Tapley  was  eating  the  boiled 
beef  and  bread  with  such  entire  good  faith  and  singleness  of 
purpose  expressed  in  his  visage,  that  he  could  not  but  be 


235  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

satisfied.  Another  doubt  arose  in  his  mind,  however,  as  this 
one  disappeared.  He  produced  the  blank  cover  in  which 
the  note  had  been  inclosed,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  Mark  as 
he  put  it  in  his  hands,  said: 

"  Now  tell  me  the  truth.  Do  you  know  any  thing  about 
that  ? " 

Mark  turned  it  over  and  over  ;  held  it  near  his  eyes  ;  held 
it  away  from  him  at  arm's  length  ;  held  it  with  the  super- 
scription upward,  and  with  the  superscription  downward  ; 
and  shook  his  head  with  such  a  genuine  expression  of  aston- 
ishment at  being  asked  the  question,  that  Martin  said,  as  he 
took  it  from  him  again  : 

''  No,  I  see  you  don't.  How  should  you  ?  Though,  indeed, 
your  knowing  about  it  would  not  be  more  extraordinary  than 
its  being  here.  Come,  Tapley,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  "I'll  trust  you  with  my  history,  such  as  it  is,  and 
then  you'll  see,  more  clearly,  what  sort  of  fortunes  you 
would  link  yourself  to,  if  you  followed  me." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mark;  "but  afore  you 
enter  upon  it,  will  you  take  me  if  I  choose  to  go  ?  Will  you 
turn  off  me,  Mark  Tapley,  formerly  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  as 
can  be  well  recommended  by  Mr.  Pinch,  and  as  wants  a 
gentleman  of  your  strength  of  mind  to  look  up  to  ;  or  will 
you,  in  climbing  the  ladder  as  you're  certain  to  get  to  the 
top  of,  take  me  along  with  you  at  a  respectful  distance  ? 
Now,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  it's  of  very  little  importance  to  you  I 
know  ;  there's  the  difficulty  ;  but  it's  of  very  great  import- 
ance   to  me,  and  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  consider  of  it  ?  " 

If  this  were  meant  as  a  second  appeal  to  Martin's  weak 
side,  founded  on  his  observation  of  the  effect  of  the  first,  Mr. 
Tapley  was  a  skillful  and  shrewd  observer.  Whether  an 
intentional  or  an  accidental  shot,  it  hit  the  mark  full  ;  for 
Martin,  relenting  more  and  more,  said,  with  a  condescension 
which  was  inexpressibly  delicious  to  him,  after  his  recent 
humiliation  : 

"  We'll  see  about  it,  Tapley.  You  shall  tell  me  in  what 
disposition  you  find  yourself  to-morrow." 

*'  Then,  sir,"  said  Mark,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  the  job's 
done.     Go  on,  sir,  if  you  please.     I'm  all  attention." 

Throwing  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and  looking  at 
the  fire,  with  now  and  then  a  glance  at  Mark,  who  at  such 
times  nodded  his  head  sagely,  to  express  his  profound  inter- 
est and  attention  ;  Martin  ran  over  the  chief  points  in  his 
history,  to  the  same  effect  as  he  bad  related  them,  weeks 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  239 

before,  to  Mr.  Pinch.  But  he  adapted  them,  according  to 
the  best  of  his  judgment,  to  Mr.  Tapley's  comprehension  ; 
and  Avith  that  view  made  as  Hght  of  his  love  affair  as  he  could, 
and  referred  to  it  in  very  few  words.  But  here  he  reckoned 
without  his  host  ;  for  Mark's  interest  was  keenest  in  this 
part  of  the  business,  and  prompted  him  to  ask  sundry  ques- 
tions in  relation  to  it  ;  for  which  he  apologized  as  one  in 
some  measure  privileged  to  do  so,  from  having  seen  (as 
Martin  explained  to  him)  the  young  lady  at  the  Blue  Dragon. 

"  And  a  young  lady  as  any  gentleman  ought  to  feel  more 
proud  of  being  in  love  with,"  said  Mark,  energetically, 
**  don't  draw  breath." 

"  Ah  !  You  saw  her  when  she  was  not  happy,"  said  Mar- 
tin, gazing  at  the  fire  again.  *'  If  you  had  seen  her  in  the 
old  times,  indeed — " 

**  Why,  she  certainly  was  a  little  down-hearted,  sir,  and 
something  paler  in  her  color  than  I  could  have  wished,"  said 
Mark,  '*  but  none  the  worse  in  her  looks  for  that.  I  think 
she  seemed  better,  sir,  after  she  came  to  London." 

Martin  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  fire  ;  stared  at  Mark 
as  if  he  thought  he  had  suddenly  gone  mad  ;  and  asked  him 
what  he  meant. 

'*  No  offense  intended,  sir,"  urged  Mark.  "  I  don't  mean 
to  say  she  was  any  the  happier  without  you  ;  but  I  thought 
she  was  a  looking  better,  sir." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she  has  been  in  London  ?  "  asked 
Martin,  rising  hurriedly,  and  pushing  back  his  chair. 

''  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Mark,  rising  too,  in  great  amaze- 
ment from  the  bedstead. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she's  in  London  now  ?" 

*'  Most  likely,  sir.     I  mean  to  say  she  was  a  week  ago." 

"  And  you  know  where  ?  " 

''  Yes  !  "  cried  Mark.     "  What  !  Don't  you  !  " 

**  My  good  fellow,"  exclaimed  Martin,  clutching  him  by 
both  arms,  "  I  have  never  seen  her  since  I  left  my  grand- 
father's house." 

"  Why  then  !  "  cried  Mark,  giving  the  little  table  such  a 
blow  with  his  clenched  fist  that  the  slices  of  beef  and  ham 
danced  upon  it,  while  all  his  features  seemed,  with  delight,  to 
be  going  up  into  his  forehead,  and  never  coming  back  again 
any  more,  "  if  I  ain't  your  nat'ral  born  servant,  hired  by 
fate,  there  ain't  such  a  thing  in  natur'  as  a  Blue  Dragon. 
What  !  when  I  was  a-rambling  up  and  down  a  old  church- 
yard in  the  city,  getting  myself  into  a  jolly   state,  didn't  I 


240  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

see  your  grandfather  a-toddling  to  and  fro  for  pretty  nigh  a 
mortal  hour  !  Didn't  I  watch  him  into  Todgers's  commer- 
cial boarding-house,  and  watch  him  out,  and  watch  him 
home  to  his  hotel,  and  go  and  tell  him  as  his  was  the  service 
for  my  money,  and  I  had  said  so  afore  I  left  the  Dragon  ! 
Wasn't  the  young  lady  a-sitting  with  him  then,  and  didn't 
she  fall  a-laughing  in  a  manner  as  was  beautiful  to  see  ! 
Didn't  your  grandfather  say,  'Come  back  again  next  week,* 
and  didn't  I  go  next  week;  and  didn't  he  say  that  he  couldn't 
make  up  his  mind  to  trust  nobody  no  more;  and  therefore 
wouldn't  engage  me;  but  at  the  same  time  stood  something 
to  drink  as  was  handsome  !  Why,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  with  a 
comical  mixture  of  delight  and  chagrin,  "where's  the  credit 
of  a  man's  being  jolly  under  such  circumstances  !  Who  could 
help  it,  when  things  come  about  like  this  I  " 

For  some  moments  Martin  stood  gazing  at  him,  as  if  he 
really  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  senses,  and  could  not 
believe  that  Mark  stood  there,  in  the  body,  before  him.  At 
length  he  asked  him  whether,  if  the  young  lady  were  still  in 
London,  he  thought  he  could  contrive  to  deliver  a  letter  to 
her  secretly. 

"  Do  I  think  I  can  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  Think  I  can  !  Here, 
sit  down,  sir.     Write  it  out,  sir  !  " 

With  that  he  cleared  the  table  by  the  summary  process  of 
tilting  every  thing  upon  it  into  the  fire-place;  snatched  some 
writing  materials  from  the  mantle-shelf;  set  Martin's  chair 
before  them;  forced  him  down  into  it;  dipped  a  pen  into  the 
ink;  and  put  it  in  his  hand. 

**  Cut  away,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark.  ''  Make  it  strong,  sir.  Let 
It  be  wcry  pinted,  sir.  Do  I  think  so  ?  /  should  think  so. 
Go  to  work,  sir  !  " 

Martin  required  no  further  adjuration,  but  went  to  work 
at  a  great  rate;  while  Mr.  Tapley,  installing  himself  without 
any  more  formalities  into  the  functions  of  his  valet  and  gen- 
eral attendant,  divested  himself  of  his  coat,  and  went  on  to 
clear  the  fire-place  and  arrange  the  room;  talking  to  himself 
in  a  low  voice  the  whole  time. 

*'  Jolly  sort  of  lodgings,"  said  Mark,  rubbing  his  nose  with 
the  nob  at  the  end  of  tlie  fire-shovcl,  and  looking  round  the 
poor  chamber;  "  that's  a  comfort.  The  rain's  come  througli 
the  roof  too.  That  ain't  bad.  A  lively  old  bedstead,  LI) 
be  bound;  populated  by  lots  of  wampires,  no  doubt.  Come, 
nay  spirits  is  a-gctting  uj)  again.  An  uncommon  ragged 
nightcap  this.     A  very  good  sign.     We  shall  do  yet  !    Here 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWiT.  241 

Jane,  my  dear,"  calling  down  the  stairs,  "bring  up  that  there 
hot  tumbler  for  my  master  as  was  a-mixing  when  I  come  in. 
That's  right,  sir,"  to  Martin.  "  Go  at  it  as  if  you  meant  it, 
sir.  Be  very  tender,  sir,  if  you  please.  You  can't  make  it 
too  strong,  sir  !  " 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  WHICH  MARTIN  BIDS  ADIEU  TO  THE  LADY  OF  HIS  LOVE; 
AND  HONORS  AN  OBSCURE  INDIVIDUAL  WHOSE  FORTUNE  HE 
INTENDS  TO  MAKE,  BY  COMMENDING  HER  TO  HIS  PRO- 
TECTION. 

The  letter  being  duly  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  was 
handed  to  Mark  Tapley  for  immediate  conveyance,  if  pos- 
sible. And  he  succeeded  so  well  in  his  embassy  as  to  be 
enabled  to  return  that  same  night,  just  as  the  house  was  clos- 
ing, with  the  welcome  intelligence  that  he  had  sent  it  up-stairs 
to  the  young  lady,  inclosed  in  a  small  manuscript  of  his  own, 
purporting  to  contain  his  further  petition  to  be  engaged  in  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit's  service;  and  that  she  had  herself  come  down  and 
told  him,  in  great  haste  and  agitation,  that  she  would  meet  the 
gentleman  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  in  St.  James's 
Park.  It  was  then  agreed  between  the  new  master  and  the 
new  man  that  Mark  should  be  in  waiting  near  the  hotel  in 
good  time,  to  escort  the  young  lady  to  the  place  of  appoint- 
ment; and  when  they  had  parted  for  the  night  with  this 
understanding,  Martin  took  up  his  pen  again;  and  before  he 
went  to  bed  wrote  another  letter,  whereof  more  will  be  seen 
presently. 

He  was  up  before  day-break,  and  came  upon  the  park  with 
the  morning,  which  was  clad  with  the  least  engaging  of  the 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  dresses  in  the  wardrobe  of  the 
year.  It  was  raw,  damp,  dark,  and  dismal;  the  clouds  were 
as  muddy  as  the  ground;  and  the  short  perspective  of  every 
street  and  avenue,  was  closed  up  by  the  mist  as  by  a  filthy 
curtain. 

"Fine  weather  indeed,"  Martin  bitterly  soliloquized,  " to 
be  wandering  up  and  down  here  in,  like  a  thief  !  Fine 
weather  indeed,  for  a  meeting  of  lovers  in  the  open  air,  and 
in  a  public  walk  !  I  need  be  aeparting,  with  all  speed,  for 
another  country;  for  I  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  in  this  !  " 

He  might  perhaps  have  gone  on  to  reflect  that  of  all 
mornings  in  the   year,  it  was  not   the  best  calculated  for  a 


242  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

young  lady's  coming  forth  on  such  an  errand,  either.  But 
he  was  stopped  on  the  road  to  this  reflection,  if  his  thoughts 
tended  that  way,  by  her  appearance  at  a  short  distance,  on 
which  he  hurried  forward  to  meet  her.  Her  squire,  Mr. 
Tapley,  at  the  same  time,  fell  discreetly  back,  and  surveyed 
the  fog  above  him  with  an  appearance  of  attentive  interest. 

"  My  dear  Martin,"  said  Mary. 

"  My  dear  Mary,"  said  Martin;  and  lovers  are  such  a  sin- 
gular kind  of  people  that  this  is  all  they  did  say  just  then, 
though  Martin  took  her  arm,  and  her  hand  too,  and  they 
paced  up  and  down  a  short  walk  that  was  least  exposed  to 
observation,  half  a  dozen  times. 

"  If  you  have  changed  at  all,  my  love,  since  we  parted," 
said  Martin  at  length,  as  he  looked  upon  her  with  a  proud 
delight,  "  it  is  only  to  be  more  beautiful  than  ever  !" 

Had  she  been  of  the  common  metal  of  love-worn  young 
ladies,  she  would  have  denied  this  in  her  most  interesting 
manner,  and  would  have  told  him  that  she  knew  she  had 
become  a  perfect  fright;  or  that  she  had  wasted  away  with 
weeping  and  anxiety;  or  that  she  was  dwindling  gently  into 
an  early  grave;  or  that  her  mental  sufi^erings  were  unspeaka- 
ble; or  would,  either  by  tears  or  words,  or  a  mixture  of  both, 
have  furnished  him  with  some  other  information  to  that 
effect,  and  made  him  as  miserable  as  possible.  But  she  had 
been  reared  up  in  a  sterner  school  than  the  minds  of  most 
young  girls  are  formed  in;  she  had  had  her  nature  strength- 
ened by  the  hands  of  hard  endurance  and  necessity;  had 
come  out  from  her  young  trials  constant,  self-denying,  earnest, 
and  devoted;  had  acquired  in  her  maidenhood — whether' 
happily  in  the  end,  for  herself  or  him,  is  foreign  to  our 
present  purpose  to  inquire — something  of  that  nobler  quality 
of  gentle  hearts  which  is  developed  often  by  the  sorrows  and 
struggles  of  matronly  years,  but  often  by  their  lessons  only. 
Unspoiled,  unpampered  in  her  joys  or  griefs;  with  frank  and 
full,  and  deep  affection  for  the  object  of  her  early  love,  she 
saw  in  him  one  who  for  her  sake  was  an  outcast  from  his 
home  and  fortune,  and  she  had  no  more  idea  of  bestowing 
that  love  upon  him  in  other  than  cheerful  and  sustaining 
words,  full  of  high  hope  and  grateful  trustfulness,  than  she 
had  of  being  unworthy  of  it,  in  her  lightest  thought  or  deed, 
for  any  base  temptation  that  the  world  could  offer. 

"What  change  is  there  in  yo//,  Martin,"  she  replied;  "for 
that  concerns  me  nearest  ?  You  look  more  anxious  and  more 
thoughtful  than  you  used." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  243 

"  Why  as  to  that,  my  love,"  said  Martin,  as  he  drew  her 
waist  within  his  arm,  first  looking  round  to  see  that  there 
were  no  observers  near,  and  beholding  Mr.  Tapley  more 
intent  than  ever  on  the  fog;  "it  would  be  strange  if  I  did 
not;  for  my  life,  especially  of  late,  has  been  a  hard  one." 

"  I  know  it  must  have  been,"  she  answered.  "  When  have 
I  forgotten  to  think  of  it  and  you  ? " 

''  Not  often,  I  hope,"  said  Martin.  ''  Not  often,  I  am  sure. 
Not  often,  I  have  some  right  to  expect,  Mary;  for  I  have 
undergone  a  great  deal  of  vexation  and  privation,  and  I 
naturall^^  look  for  that  return,  you  know." 

*'  A  very,  very  poor  return,"  she  answered  with  a  fainter 
smile.  **  But  you  have  it,  and  will  have  it  always.  You 
have  paid  a  dear  price  for  a  poor  heart,  Martin;  but  it  is  at 
least  your  own,  and  a  true  one." 

*'  Of  course  I  feel  quite  certain  of  that,"  said  Martin,  "  or 
I  shouldn't  have  put  myself  in  my  present  position.  And 
don't  say  a  poor  heart,  Mary,  for  I  say  a  rich  one.  Now,  I 
am  about  to  break  a  design  to  you,  dearest,  which  will  startle 
you  at  first,  but  which  is  undertaken  for  your  sake.  I  am 
going,"  he  added  slowly,  looking  far  into  the  deep  wonder  of 
her  bright,  dark  eyes,  *'  abroad." 

"  Abroad,  Martin  !  " 

"  Only  to  America,     See  now.     How  you  droop  directly!" 

"If  I  do,  or  I  hope  I  may  say,  if  I  did,"  she  answered, 
raising  her  head  after  a  short  silence,  and  looking  once  more 
into  his  face,  "  it  was  for  grief  to  think  of  what  you  are 
resolved  to  undergo  for  me.  I  would  not  venture  to  dissuade 
you,  Martin  ;  but  it  is  a  long,  long  distance  ;  there  is  a  wide 
ocean  to  be  crossed  ;  illness  and  want  are  sad  calamities  in 
any  place,  but  in  a  foreign  country  dreadful  to  endure.  Have 
you  thought  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  Thought  of  it  !  "  cried  Martin,  abating  in  his  fondness — 
and  he  was  very  fond  of  her — hardly  an  iota  of  his  usual 
impetuosity.  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  It's  very  well  to  say, 
have  I  thought  of  it  ?  my  love  ;  but  you  should  ask  me  in 
the  same  breath,  have  I  thought  of  starving  at  home  ;  have  I 
thought  of  doing  porter's  work  for  a  living;  have  J  thought 
of  holding  horses  in  the  streets  to  earn  my  roll  of  bread  from 
day  to  day  ?  Come,  come,"  he  added,  in  a  gentler  tone, 
"  do  not  hang  down  your  head,  my  dear,  for  I  need  the 
encouragement  that  your  sweet  face  alone  can  give  me. 
Why,  that's  well  !     Now  you  are  brave  again," 

"  I  am  endeavoring  to  be/'  she  answered,  smiling  through 
her  tears. 


244  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVTT. 

"  Endeavoring  to  be  any  thing  that's  good,  and  being  it, 
is,  with  you,  all  one.  Don't  I  know  that  of  old  ?"  cried 
Martin,  gayly.  "  So  !  That's  famous  !  Now  I  can  tell  you 
all  my  plans  as  cheerfully  as  if  you  were  my  little  wife 
already,  Mary." 

She  hung  more  closely  on  his  arm,  and  looking  upward  in 
his  face,  bade  him  speak  on. 

"  You  see,"  said  Martin,  playing  with  the  little  hand  upon 
his  wrist,  "  that  my  attempts  to  advance  myself  at  home  have 
been  baffled  and  rendered  abortive.  I  will  not  say  by  whom, 
Mary,  for  that  would  give  pain  to  us  both.  But  so  it  is. 
Have  you  heard  him  speak  of  late  of  any  relative  of  mine  or 
his,  called  Pecksniff  ?  Only  tell  me  what  I  ask  you,  no 
more." 

''  I  have  heard,  to  my  surprise,  that  he  is  a  better  man 
than  was  supposed." 

'*  I  thought  so,"  interrupted  Martin. 

"  And  that  it  is  likely  we  may  come  to  know  him,  if  not  to 
visit  and  reside  with  him  and — I  think — his  daughters.  He 
has  daughters,  has  he,  love  ?  " 

**  A  pair  of  them,"  Martin  answered.  ''A  precious  pair  ! 
Gems  of  the  first  water  !  " 

^*  Ah  !     You  are  jesting  !  " 

*'  There  is  a  sort  of  jesting  which  is  very  much  in  earnest, 
and  includes  some  pretty  serious  disgust,"  said  Martin.  *'  I 
jest  in  reference  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  (at  whose  house  I  have 
been  living  as  his  assistant,  and  at  whose  hands  I  have 
received  insult  and  injury),  in  that  vein.  Whatever  betides, 
or  however  closely  you  may  be  brought  into  communication 
with  his  family,  never  forget  that,  Mary  ;  and  never  for  an 
instant  whatever  appearances  may  seem  to  contradict  me,  lose 
sight  of  this  assurance:  Pecksniff  is  a  scoundrel." 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  \\\  thought,  and  in  deed,  and  in  every  thing  else.  A 
scoundrel  from  the  topmost  hair  of  his  head,  to  the  nether- 
most atom  of  his  heel.  Of  his  daughters  I  will  only  say  that 
to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  they  are  dutiful 
young  ladies,  and  take  after  their  father  closely.  This  is  a 
digression  from  the  main  point,  and  yet  it  brings  me  to  what 
I  was  going  to  say." 

He  stopped  to  look  into  her  eyes  again,  and  seeing,  in  a 
hasty  glance  over  his  shoulder,  that  there  was  no  one  near, 
and  that  Mark  was  still  intent  upon  the  fog,  not  only  looked 
at  her  lips  too,  but  kissed  them  into  the  bargain. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


245 


"  Now,  I  am  going  to  America,  with  great  prospects  of 
doing  well,  and  of  returning  home  myself  very  soon;  it  may 
be  to  take  you  there  for  a  few  years,  but,  at  all  events,  to 
claim  you  for  my  wife;  which,  after  such  trials,  I  should  do 
with  no  fear  of  your  still  thinking  it  a  duty  to  cleave  to  him 
who  will  not  suffer  me  to  live  (for  this  is  true),  if  he  can  help 
it,  in  my  own  land.  How  long  I  may  be  absent  is,  of  course, 
uncertain  ;  but  it  shall  not  be  very  long.    Trust  me  for  that." 

"  In  the  meantime,  dear  Martin — " 

"  That's  the  very  thing  I  am  coming  to.  In  the  mean- 
time you  shall  hear,  constantly,  of  all  my  goings-on.     Thus." 

He  paused  to  take  from  his  pocket  the  letter  he  had  writ- 
ten over-night,  and  then  resumed: 

"  In  this  fellow's  employment  and  living  in  this  fellow's 
house  (by  fellow,  I  mean  Mr.  Pecksniff,  of  course),  there  is 
a  certain  person  of  the  name  of  Pinch.  Don't  forget  ;  a  poor 
strange,  simple  oddity,  Mary;  but  thoroughly  honest  and 
sincere,  full  of  zeal,  and  with  a  cordial  regard  for  me.  Which 
I  mean  to  return  one  of  these  days,  by  setting  him  up  in  life 
in  some  way  or  other." 

"  Your  old  kind  nature,  Martin  !  " 

"Oh!"  said  Martin,  "that's  not  worth  speaking  of,  my 
love.  He's  very  grateful  and  desirous  to  serve  me  ;  and  I 
am  more  than  repaid.  Now  one  night  I  told  this  Pinch  my 
history,  and  all  about  myself  and  you  ;  in  which  he  was  not 
a  little  interested,  I  can  tell  you,  for  he  knows  you  !  Ay,  you 
may  looked  surprised, and  the  longer  the  better,for  it  becomes 
you,  but  you  have  heard  him  play  the  organ  in  the  church 
of  that  village  before  now  ;  and  he  has  seen  you  listening  to 
his  music  ;  and  has  caught  his  inspiration  from  you, 
too  !  " 

"  Was  he  the  organist  ? "  cried  Mary.  *'  I  thank  him  from 
my  heart  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  was,"  said  Martin,  "  and  is,  and  gets  nothing 
for  it  either.  There  never  was  such  a  simple  fellow  !  Quite 
an  infant  !  But  a  very  good  sort   of  creature,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  am  sure  of  that,"  she  said,  with  great  earnestness. 
"  He  must  be  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  no  doubt  at  all  about  it,"  rejoined  Martin,  in 
his  usual  careless  way.  "  He  is.  Well  !  It  has  occurred  to 
me — but  stay.  If  I  read  you  what  I  have  written  and  intend 
sending  to  him  by  post  to-night,  it  will  explain  itself.  '  My 
dear  Tom  Pinch.'  That's  rather  familiar,  perhaps,"  said 
Martin,  suddenly  remembering  that  he  was  proud  when  they 


246  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

had  last  met,  "  but  I  call  him  my  dear  Tom  Pinch,  because 
he  likes  it,  and  it  pleases  him." 

"  Very  right,  and  very  kind,"  said  Mary. 

"  Exactly  so  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  It's  as  well  to  be  kind 
whenever  one  can  ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  he  really  is  an 
excellent  fellow.  '  My  dear  Tom  Pinch.  I  address  this 
under  cover  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  at  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  have 
begged  her  in  a  short  note  to  deliver  it  to  you  without  say- 
ing any  thing  about  it  elsewhere  ;  and  to  do  the  same  with 
all  future  letters  she  may  receive  from  me.  My  reason  for 
so  doing  will  be  at  once  apparent  to  you."  I  don't  know 
that  it  will  be,  by  the  by,"  said  Martin,  breaking  off,  **  for 
he's  slow  of  comprehension,  poor  fellow  ;  but  he'll  find  it 
out  in  time.  My  reason  simply  is,  that  I  don't  want  my  let- 
ters to  be  read  by  other  people  ;  and  particularly  by  the 
scoundrel  whom  he  thinks  an  angel." 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff  again  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"  The  same,"  said  Martin  ;  ** ' — will  be  at  once  apparent 
to  you.  I  have  completed  my  arrangements  for  going  to 
America  ;  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  am  to  be 
accompanied  by  Mark  Tapley,  upon  whom  I  have  stumbled 
strangely  in  London,  and  who  insists  on  putting  himself 
under  my  protection  ;  '  meaning,  my  love,"  said  Martin, 
breaking  off  again,  "our  friend  in  the  rear,  of  course." 

She  was  delighted  to  hear  this,  and  bestov.-ed  a  kind  glance 
upon  Mark,  which  he  brought  his  eyes  down  from  the  fog 
to  encounter,  and  received  with  immense  satisfaction.  She 
said  in  his  hearing,  too,  that  he  was  a  good  soul  and  a  merry 
creature,  and  would  be  faithful,  she  was  certain  ;  commen- 
dations which  Mr.  Tapley  inwardly  resolved  to  deserve,  from 
such  lips,  if  he  died  for  it. 

'' '  Now,  my  dear  Pinch,'  "  resumed  Martin,  proceeding 
with  his  letter  ;  "  '  I  am  going  to  repose  great  trust  in  you, 
knowing  that  I  may  do  so  with  perfect  reliance  on  your 
honor  and  secrecy,  and  having  nobody  else  just  now  to  trust 
in.'" 

"  I  don't  think  I  would  say  that,  Martin." 

"  Wouldn't  you  ?  Well  !  I'll  take  that  out.  It's  perfectly 
true,  though." 

"  But  it  might  seem  ungracious,  perhaps." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  Pinch,"  said  Martin.  "There's  no 
occasion  to  stand  on  any  ceremony  with////;/.  However,  I'll 
take  it  out,  as  you  wish  it,  and  make  the  full  stop  at  *  secrecy.' 
Very  well  !  '  I  shall  not  only  ' — this  is  the  letter  again,  you 
know." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  247 

"  I  understand." 

" '  I  shall  not  only  inclose  my  letters  to  the  young  lady  of 
whom  I  have  told  you,  to  your  charge,  to  be  forwarded  as 
she  may  request  ;  but  I  most  earnestly  commit  her,  the 
young  lady  herself,  to  your  care  and  regard,  in  the  event  of 
your  meeting  in  my  absence.  I  have  reason  to  think  that 
the  probabilities  of  your  encountering  each  other — perhaps 
very  frequently — are  now  neither  remote  nor  few  ;  and 
although  in  your  position  you  can  do  very  little  to  lessen  the 
uneasiness  of  hers,  I  trust  to  you  implicitly  to  do  that  much, 
and  so  deserve  the  confidence  I  have  reposed  in  you.'  You 
see,  my  dear  Mary,"  said  Martin,  "  it  will  be  a  great  conso- 
lation to  you  to  have  any  body,  no  matter  how  simple,  with 
whom  you  can  speak  about  me  ;  and  the  very  first  time  you 
talk  to  Pinch,  you'll  feel  at  once,  that  there  is  no  more  occa- 
sion for  any  embarrassment  or  hesitation  in  talking  to  him, 
than  if  he  were  an  old  woman." 

"  However  that  may  be,"  she  returned,  smiling,  "  he  is 
your  friend,  and  that  is  enough." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  my  friend,"  said  Martin,  *'  certainly.  In 
fact,  1  have  told  him  in  so  many  words  that  we'll  always 
take  notice  of  him,  and  protect  him;  and  it's  a  good  trait  in 
his  character  that  he's  grateful,  very  grateful,  indeed.  You'll 
like  him  of  all  things,  my  love,  I  know.  You'll  observe  very 
much  that's  comical  and  old-fashioned  about  Pinch,  but  you 
needn't  mind  laughing  at  him;  for  he'll  not  care  about  it. 
He'll  rather  like  it,  indeed!  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  put  that  to  the  test,  Martin." 

"  You  won't  if  you  can  help  it,  of  course,"  he  said,  "but  I 
think  you'll  find  him  a  little  too  much  for  your  gravity. 
However,  that's  neither  here  nor  there,  and  it  certainly  is 
not  the  letter;  which  ends  thus:  'Knowing  that  I  need  not 
impress  the  nature  and  extent  of  that  confidence  upon  you 
at  any  greater  length,  as  it  is  already  sufficiently  estab- 
lished in  your  mind,  I  will  only  say  in  bidding  you  farewell, 
and  looking  forward  to  our  next  meeting,  that  J  shall  charge 
myself  from  this  time,  through  all  changes  for  the  better, 
with  your  advancement  and  happiness,  as  if  they  were  my 
own.  You  may  rely  upon  that.  And  always  believe  me, 
my  dear  Tom  Pinch,  faithfully  your  friend,  Martin  Chuzzle- 
v.'it.  P.  S.  I  enclose  the  amount  which  you  so  kindly  ' — 
Oh,"  said  Martin,  checking  himself  and  folding  up  the  let- 
ter, *'  that's  nothing!  " 

At  this  crisis   Mark   Tapley   interposed,  with   an  apology 


248  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

for  remarking  that  the  clock  at  the  horse  guards  was  strik- 
ing- 

"  Which  I  shouldn't  have  said  nothing  about,  sir,"  added 

Mark,  *'  if  the  young  lady  hadn't  begged  me   to  be  particu- 
lar in  mentioning  it." 

"  I  did,"  said  Mary.  "  Thank  you.  You  are  quite  right. 
In  another  minute  I  shall  be  ready  to  return.  We  have  time 
for  a  verv  few  words  more,  dear  Martin,  and  although  I  had 
much  to  say,  it  must  remain  unsaid  until  the  happy  time  of 
our  next  meeting.  Heaven  send  it  may  come  speedily  and 
prosperously!     But  I  have  no  fear  of  that." 

**Fear!"  cried  Martin.  *' Why,  who  has?  What  are  a 
few  months  ?  What  is  a  whole  year  ?  When  I  come  gayly 
back,  with  a  road  through  life  hewn  out  before  me,  then, 
indeed,  looking  back  upon  this  parting,  it  may  seem  a  dis- 
mal one.  But  now!  I  swear  1  wouldn't  have  it  happen 
under  more  favorable  auspices,  if  I  could;  for  then  I  should 
be  less  inclined  to  go,  and  less  impressed  with  the  necessity." 

"  Yes,  yes.     I  feel  that,  too.     When  do  you  go  ?  '' 

'*  To-night.  We  leave  for  Liverpool  to-night.  A  vessel 
sails  from  that  port,  as  I  hear,  in  three  days.  In  a  month, 
or  less,  v/e  shall  be  there.  Why,  what's  a  month  I  How 
many  months  have  flown  by  since  our  last  parting!  " 

*'  Long  to  look  back  upon,"  said  Mary,  echoing  his  cheer- 
ful tone,  "but  nothing  in  their  course!  " 

''Nothing  at  all!"  cried  Martin.  "I  shall  have  change 
of  scene  and  change  of  place;  change  of  people,  change  of 
manners,  change  of  cares  and  hopes!  Time  will  wearwirgs, 
indeed!  I  can  bear  any  thing,  so  that  I  have  swift  action, 
Mary." 

Was  he  thinking  solely  of  her  care  for  him,  when  he  took 
so  little  heed  of  her  share  in  the  separation;  of  her  quiet, 
monotonous  endurance,  and  her  slow  anxiety  from  day  to 
day  !  Was  there  nothing  jarring  and  discordant  even  in  his 
tone  of  courage,  with  this  one  note  "self"  forever  audible, 
however  high  the  strain  ?  Not  in  her  ears.  It  had  been 
better  otherwise,  perhaps,  but  so  it  was.  She  heard  the 
same  bold  spirit  which  had  flung  away  as  dross  all  gain  and 
profit  for  her  sake,  making  light  of  peril  and  privation  that 
she  might  be  calm  and  happy;  and  she  heard  no  more. 
That  heart  where  self  has  found  no  place  and  raised  no 
throne,  is  slow  to  recognize  its  ugly  presence  when  it  looks 
upon  it.  As  one  possessed  of  an  evil  spirit,  was  held  in  old 
time  to  be  alone  conscious  of  the  lurking  demon  in   the 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  249 

breasts  of  other  men,  so  kindred  vices  know  each  other  in 
their  hiding-places  every  day,  when  virtue  is  incredulous 
and  blind. 

"  The  quarter's  gone!  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  voice  of 
admonition. 

"  I  shall  be  ready  to  return  immediately,"  she  said.  "  One 
thing,  dear  Martin,  I  am  bound  to  tell  you.  You  entreated 
me  a  few  minutes  since  only  to  answer  what  you  asked  me 
in  reference  to  one  theme,  but  you  should  and  must  know 
(otherwise  I  could  not  be  at  ease),  that  since  that  separa- 
tion of  which  I  was  the  unhappy  occasion,  he  has  never 
once  uttered  your  name;  has  never  coupled  it,  or  any  faint 
allusion  to  it,  with  passion  or  reproach;  and  has  never 
abated  in  his  kindness  to  me." 

"  I  thank  him  for  that  last  act,"  said  Martin,  "and  for 
nothing  else.  Though  on  consideration  1  may  thank  him 
for  his  other  forbearance  also,  inasmuch  as  I  neither  expect 
nor  desire  that  he  will  mention  my  name  again.  He  may 
once,  perhaps — to  couple  it  with  reproach — in  his  will.  Let 
him,  if  he  please!  By  the  time  it  reaches  me  he  will  be  in 
his  grave;  a  satire  on  his  own  anger,  God  help  him!  " 

'*  Martin  !  If  you  would  but  sometimes,  in  some  quiet 
hour;  beside  the  winter  fire;  in  the  summer  air;  when  you 
hear  gentle  music,  or  think  of  death,  or  home,  or  childhood; 
if  vou  would  at  such  a  season  resolve  to  think,  but  once  a 
month,  or  even  once  a  year,  of  him,  or  any  one  who  ever 
wronged  you,  you  would  forgive  him  in  your  heart,  I 
know!" 

"  If  you  believe  that  to  be  true,  Mary,"  he  replied,  "  I 
Avould  resolve  at  no  such  time  to  bear  him  in  my  mind, 
wishing  to  spare  myself  the  shame  of  such  a  weakness.  I 
was  not  born  to  be  the  toy  and  puppet  of  any  man,  far  less 
his;  to  whose  pleasure  and  caprice,  in  return  for  any  good  he 
did  me,  my  whole  youth  was  sacrificed.  It  became  between 
us  two  a  fair  exchange,  a  barter,  and  no  more;  and  there  is 
no  such  balance  against  me  that  I  need  throw  in  a  mawkish 
forgiveness  to  poise  the  scale.  He  has  forbidden  all  mention 
of  me  to  you,  I  know,"  he  added  hastily.  "  Come  !  Has 
he  not  ?  " 

'^  That  was  long  ago,"  she  returned;  "immediately  after 
your  parting  ;  before  you  had  left  the  house.  He  has  never 
done  so  since." 

"  He  has  never  done  so  since,  because  he  has  seen  no 
occasion,"  said  Martin;  "but  that  is  of  little  consequence, 


250 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 


one  way  or  other.  Let  all  allusion  to  him  between  you  and 
me  be  interdicted  from  this  time  forth.  And  therefore, 
love" — he  drew  her  quickly  to  him,  for  the  time  of  parting 
had  now  come — "in  the  first  letter  that  you  write  to  me 
through  the  post-office,  addressed  to  New  York — and  in  all 
the  others  that  you  send  through  Pinch  —remember  he  has 
no  existence,  but  has  become  to  us  as  one  who  is  dead.  Now, 
God  bless  you  !  This  is  a  strange  place  for  such  a  meeting 
and  such  a  parting;  but  our  next  meeting  shall  be  in  a  bet- 
ter; and  our  next  and  last  parting  in  a  worse." 

^'  One  other  question,  Martin,  I  must  ask.  Have  you  pro- 
vided money  for  this  journey  ?  " 

"  Have  I  ?"  cried  Martin  ;  it  might  have  been  in  his  pride; 
it  might  have  been  in  his  desire  to  set  her  mind  at  ease  ; 
"  Have  I  provided  money  ?  Why,  there's  a  question  for  an 
emigrant's  wife  !  How  could  I  move  on  land  or  sea  without 
it,  love  ? " 

"  I  mean  enough." 

"  Enough  !  More  than  enough.  Twenty  times  more  than 
enough.  A  pocketfull.  Mark  and  I,  for  all  essential  ends, 
are  quite  as  rich  as  if  we  had  a  purse  of  Fortunatus  in  our 
baggage." 

"  The  half- hour's  a-going  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Good-by  a  hundred  times,"  cried  Mary  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

But  how  cold  the  comfort  in  good-by  !  Mark  Tapley 
knew  it  perfectly.  Perhaps  he  knew  it  from  his  reading,  per- 
haps from  his  experience,  perhaps  from  intuition.  It  is 
impossible  to  say;  but  however  he  knew  it,  his  knowledge 
instinctively  suggested  to  him  the  wisest  course  of  proceed- 
ing that  any  man  could  have  adopted  under  the  circum- 
stances. He  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit  of  sneezing,  and 
was  obliged  to  turn  his  head  another  way.  In  doing  which, 
he,  in  a  manner,  fenced  and  screened  the  lovers  into  a  cor- 
ner by  themselves. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  but  Mark  had  an  undefined  sen- 
sation that  it  was  a  satisfactory  one  in  its  way.  Then  Mary, 
with  her  veil  lowered,  passed  him  with  a  quick  step,  and 
beckoned  him  to  follow.  She  stopped  once  more  before  they 
lost  that  corner,  looked  back  and  waved  her  hand  to  Martin. 
He  made  a  start  toward  them  at  the  moment  as  if  he  had 
some  other  farewell  words  to  say  ;  but  she  only  hurried  off 
the  faster,  and  Mr.  Tapley  followed  as  in  duty  bound. 

When  he  rejoined  Martin  again  in  his  o\vn  chamber,  he 


^ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  251 

found  that  gentleman  seated  moodily  before  the  dusty  grate, 
with  his  two  feet  on  the  fender,  his  two  elbows  on  his  knees, 
and  his  chin  supported,  in  not  a  very  ornamental  manner, 
on  the  palms  of  his  hands. 

"Well,  Mark." 

**  Well,  sir,"  said  Mark,  taking  a  long  breath,  "I  see  the 
young  lady  safe  home,  and  I  feel  pretty  comfortable  after  it. 
She  sent  a  lot  of  kind  words,  sir,  and  this,"  handing  him  a 
ring,  "for  a  parting  keepsake." 

"  Diamonds  !  "  said  IMartin,  kissing  it — let  us  do  him 
justice,  it  was  for  her  sake  not  for  theirs — and  putting  it  on 
his  little  finger.  "  Splendid  diamonds  !  My  grandfather  is 
a  singular  character,  Mark.  He  must  have  given  her  this, 
now." 

Mark  Tapley  knew  as  well  that  she  had  bought  it,  to  the 
end  that  that  unconscious  speaker  might  carry  some  article  of 
sterling  value  with  him  in  his  necessity;  as  he  knew  that  it 
was  day,  and  not  night.  Though  he  had  no  more  acquaint- 
ance of  his  own  knowledge  with  the  history  of  the  glittering 
trinket  on  Martin's  outspread  finger,  than  Martin  himself 
had,  he  was  as  certain  that  in  its  purchase  she  had  expended 
her  whole  stock  of  hoarded  money,  as  if  he  had  seen  it  paid 
down  coin  by  coin.  Her  lover's  strange  obtuseness  in  rela- 
tion to  this  little  incident,  promptly  suggested  to  Mark's  mind 
its  real  cause  and  root  ;  and  from  that  moment  he  had  a 
clear  and  perfect  insight  into  the  one  absorbing  principle  of 
Martin's  character. 

"  She  is  worthy  of  the  sacrifices  I  have  made,"  said  Martin, 
folding  his  arms,  and  looking  at  the  ashes  in  the  stove,  as  if 
in  resumption  of  some  former  thoughts.  "  Well  worthy  of 
them.  No  riches  " — here  he  stroked  his  chin,  and  mused — 
"  could  have  compensated  for  the  loss  of  such  a  nature.  Not 
to  mention  that  in  gaining  her  affection,  I  have  followed  the 
bent  of  my  own  wishes,  and  balked  the  selfish  schemes  of 
others  who  had  no  right  to  form  them.  She  is  quite  worthy, 
more  than  worthy,  of  the  sacrifices  I  have  made.  Yes,  she  is. 
No  doubt  of  it." 

These  ruminations  might  or  might  not  have  reached  Mark 
Tapley  ;  for  though  they  were  by  no  means  addressed  to 
him,  yet  they  were  softly  uttered.  In  any  case,  he  stood 
there,  watching  Martin  with  an  indescribable  and  most 
involved  expression  on  his  visage,  until  that  young  man 
roused  himself  and  Pooked  tov/ard  him  ;  when  he  turned 
?>way,  as  being  suddenly  intent  on  certain  preparations  for 


252  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  journey,  and,  without  giving  vent  to  any  articulate  sound, 
smiled  with  surpassing  ghastliness,  and  seemed  by  a  twist  of 
his  features  and  a  motion   of  his  lips,   to  release  himself  of 
this  word — 
^' Jolly!" 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    BURDEN    WHEREOF    IS,    HAIL,    COLUMBIA  ! 

A  dark  and  dreary  night  ;  people  nestling  in  their  beds  or 
circling  late  about  the  fire  ;  want,  colder  than  charity,  shiv- 
ering at  the  street  corners  ;  church-towers  humming  with 
the  faint  vibration  of  their  own  tongues,  but  newly  resting 
from  the  ghostly  preachment  "One  !  "  The  earth  covered 
with  a  sable  pall  as  for  the  burial  of  yesterday  ;  the  clumps 
of  dark  trees,  its  giant  plumes  of  funeral  feathers,  waving 
sadly  to  and  fro  ;  all  hushed,  all  noiseless,  and  in  deep 
repose,  save  the  swift  clouds  that  skim  across  the  moon,  and 
the  cautious  wind,  as,  creeping  after  them  upon  the  ground, 
it  stops  to  listen,  and  goes  rustling  on,  and  stops  again,  and 
follows,  like  a  savage  on  the  trail. 

Whither  go  the  clouds  and  winds,  so  eagerly  ?  If,  like 
guilty  spirits,  they  repair  to  some  dread  conference  with 
powers  like  themselves,  in  what  wild  regions  do  the  elements 
hold  council,  or  where  unbend  in  terrible  disport  ? 

Here  !  Free  from  that  cramped  prison  called  the  earth, 
and  out  upon  the  waste  of  water.  Here,  roaring,  raging, 
shrieking,  howling,  all  night  long.  Hither  comes  the  sound- 
ing voices  from  the  caverns  on  the  coast  of  that  small  island, 
sleeping,  a  thousand  miles  away,  so  quietly  in  the  midst  of 
angry  waves  ;  and  hither,  to  meet  them,  rush  the  blasts  from 
unknown  desert  places  of  the  world.  Here,  in  the  fury  of 
their  unchecked  liberty,  they  storm  and  buffet  with  each 
other,  until  the  sea,  lashed  into  passion  like  their  own,  leaps 
up  in  ravings  mightier  than  theirs,  and  the  whole  scene  is 
madness. 

On,  on,  on,  over  the  countless  miles  of  angry  space  roll 
the  long  heaving  billows.  Mountains  and  caves  are  here, 
and  yet  are  not ;  for  what  is  now  the  one,  is  now  the 
other  ;  then  all  is  but  a  boiling  heap  of  rushing  water.  Pur- 
suit and  flight,  and  mad  return  of  wave  on  wave,  and  savage 
struggle,  ending  in  a  spouting-up  of  foam  that  whitens  the 
black  night ;  incessant  change  of  place,  and  form,  and  hue  ; 


MARTIN   CHU/ZLEVVTT.  253 

constancy  in  nothing,  but  eternal  strife  ;  on,  on,  on,  they  roll, 
and  darker  grows  the  night,  and  louder  howls  the  wind,  and 
more  clamorous  and  fierce  become  the  million  voices  in  the 
sea,  when  the  wild  cry  goes  forth  upon  the  storr :  "A  ship  !  " 

Onward  she  comes,  in  gallant  combat  with  the  elements, 
her  tall  masts  trembling,  and  her  timbers  starting  on  the 
strain  ;  onward  she  comes,  now  high  upon  the  curling  bil- 
lows, now  low  down  in  the  hollows  of  the  sea,  as  hiding  for 
the  moment  from  its  fury  ;  and  every  storm-voice  in  the  air 
and  water,  cries  more  loudly  yet,  "A  ship  !  " 

Still  she  comes  striving  on  ;  and  at  her  boldness  and  the 
spreading  cry,  the  angry  waves  rise  up  above  each  other's 
hoary  heads  to  look  ;  and  round  about  the  vessel,  far  as  the 
mariners  on  her  deck  can  pierce  into  the  gloom,  they  press 
upon  her,  forcing  each  other  down,  and  starting  up,  and 
rushing  forward  from  afar,  in  dreadful  curiosity.  High  over 
her  they  break;  and  round  her  surge  and  roar;  and  giving 
place  to  others,  meaningly  depart,  and  dash  themselves  to 
fragments  in  their  baffled  anger.  Still  she  comes  onward 
bravely.  And  though  the  eager  multitude  crowd  thick  and 
fast  upon  her  all  the  night,  and  dawn  of  day  discovers  the 
untiring  train  yet  bearing  down  upon  the  ship  in  an  eternity 
of  troubled  water,  onward  she  comes,  with  dim  lights  burn- 
ing in  her  hull,  and  people  there,  asleep,  as  if  no  deadly  ele- 
ment were  peering  in  at  every  seam  and  chink,  and  no 
drowned  seaman's  grave,  with  but  a  plank  to  cover  it,  were 
yawning  in  the  unfathomable  depths  below. 

Among  these  sleeping  voyagers  were  Martin  and  Mark 
Tapley,  who,  rocked  into  a  heavy  drowsiness  -by  the  unac- 
customed motion,  were  as  insensible  to  the  foul  air  in  which 
they  lay,  as  to  the  uproar  without.  It  was  broad  day,  when 
the  latter  awoke  with  a  dim  idea  that  he  was  dreaming  of 
having  gone  to  sleep  in  a  four-post  bedstead  which  had 
turned  bottom  upward  in  the  course  of  the  night.  There 
was  more  reason  in  this,  too,  than  in  the  roasting  of  eggs: 
for  the  first  objects  Mr.  Tapley  recognized  when  he  opened 
his  eyes  were  his  own  heels — looking  down  to  him,  as  he 
afterward  observed,  from    a  nearly  perpendicular  elevation. 

"  Well  !"  said  Mark,  getting  himself  into  a  sitting  posture, 
after  various  ineffectual  struggles  with  the  rolling  of  the 
ship,  "  This  is  the  first  time  as  ever  I  stood  on  my  head  all 
night." 

"  You  shouldn't  go  to  sleep  upon  the  ground  with  your 
head  to  leeward  then,"  growled  a  man  in  one  of  the  berths. 


254  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  With  my  head  to  ivhere  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

The  man  repeated  his  previous  sentiment. 

"No,  I  won't  another  time,"  said  Mark,  **  when  I  know 
whereabout  on  the  map  that  country  is.  In  the  meanwhile 
I  can  give  you  a  better  piece  of  advice.  Don't  you  nor  any 
other  friend  of  mine  never  go  to  sleep  with  his  head  in  a 
ship  any  more." 

The  man  gave  a  grunt  of  discontented  acquiescence,  turned 
over  in  his  berth,  and  drew  his  blanket  over  his  head. 

'' — For,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  pursuing  the  theme  by  way  of 
soliloquy,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice;  *'  the  sea  is  as  nonsensical 
a  thing  as  any  going.  It  never  knows  what  to  do  with  itself. 
It  hasn't  got  no  employment  for  its  mind,  and  is  always  in  a 
state  of  vacancy.  Like  them  polar  bears  in  the  wild-beast 
shows  as  is  constantly  a-nodding  their  heads  from  side  to 
side,  it  never  can  be  quiet.  Which  is  entirely  owing  to  its 
uncommon  stupidity." 

"  Is  that  you,  Mark  ?  "  asked  a  faint  voice  from  another 
berth. 

"  It's  as  much  of  me  as  is  left,  sir,  after  a  fortnight  of  this 
work,"  Mr.  Tapley  replied.  "What  with  leading  the  life  of  a 
fly,  ever  since  I've  been  aboard — for  I've  been  perpetually 
holding  on  to  something  or  other,  in  a  upside-down  position 
— what  with  that,  sir,  and  putting  a  very  little  into  myself, 
and  taking  a  good  deal  out  of  yourself,  there  ain't  too  much 
of  me  to  swear  by.  How  do  you  find  yourself  this  morning, 
sir?" 

"  Very  miserable,"  said  Martin,  with  a  peevish  groan. 
*'Ugh  !  This  is  wretched,  indeed  !  " 

*'  Creditable,"  muttered  Mark,  pressing  one  hand  upon  his 
aching  head  and  looking  round  him  with  a  rueful  grin. 
**  That's  the  great  comfort.  It  is  creditable  to  keep  up  one's 
spirits  here.     Virtue's  its  own  reward.     So's  jollity." 

Mark  was  so  far  right,  that  unquestionably  any  man  who 
retained  his  cheerfulness  among  the  steerage  accommoda- 
tions of  that  noble  and  fast-sailing-line-of-packet-ship,  The 
Screw^  was  solely  indebted  to  his  own  resources,  and  shipped 
his  good  humor,  like  his  provisions,  without  any  contribution 
or  assistance  from  the  owners.  A  dark,  low,  stifling  cabin, 
surrounded  by  berths  all  filled  to  overflowing  with  men, 
women  and  children,  in  various  stages  of  sickness  and  mis- 
t^ry,  is  not  the  liveliest  place  of  assembly  at  any  time;  but 
when  it  is  so  crowded  (as  the  steerage  cabin  of  The  Screw 
was  every  passage  out),  that  mattresses  and  beds  are  heaped 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  25S 

upon  the  floor,  to  the  extinction  of  every  thing  like  comfort, 
'"cleanliness,  and  decency,  it  is  liable  to  operate  not  only  as  a 
pretty  strong  barrier  against  amiability  of  temper,  but  as  a 
positive  encourager  of  selfish  and  rough  humors.  Mark  felt 
this,  as  he  sat  looking  about  him;  and  his  spirits  rose  pro- 
portionately. 

There  were  English  people,  Irish  people,  Welsh  people,  and 
Scotch  people  there;  all  with  their  little  store  of  coarse  food 
and  shabby  clothes;  and  nearly  all  with  their  families  of  chil- 
dren. There  were  children  of  all  ages;  from  the  baby  at  the 
breast  to  the  slattern-girl  who  was  as  much  a  grown  woman 
as  her  mother.  Everv  kind  of  domestic  suffering  that  is 
bred  in  poverty,  illness,  banishment,  sorrow,  and  long  travel 
in  bad  weather,  was  crammed  into  the  little  space;  and  yet 
was  there  infinitely  less  of  complaint  and  querulousness,  and 
infinitely  more  of  mutual  assistance  and  general  kindness  to 
be  found  in  that  unwholesome  ark,  than  in  many  brilliant 
ball-rooms. 

Mark  looked  about  him  wustf ully,  and  his  face  brightened 
as  he  looked.  Here  an  old  grandmother  was  crooning  over 
a  sick  child,  and  recking  it  to  and  fro,  in  arms  hardly  more 
wasted  than  its  own  young  limbs;  here  a  poor  v/oman  with 
an  infant  in  her  lap,  mended  another  little  creature's  clothes, 
and  quieted  another  who  was  creeping  up  about  her  from 
their  scanty  bed  upon  the  floor.  Here  were  old  men  awk- 
wardly engaged  in  little  household  offices,  wherein  they 
would  have  been  ridiculous  but  for  their  good-will  and  kind 
purpose  ;  and  here  were  swarthy  fellows — g^"ants  in  their 
way — doing  such  little  acts  of  tenderness  for  those  about 
them,  as  might  have  belonged  to  gentlest-hearted  dwarfs. 
The  very  idiot  in  the  corner  who  sat  mowing  there,  all  day, 
had  his  faculty  of  imitation  roused  by  what  he  saw  about 
him  ;  and  snapped  his  fingers,  to  amuse  a  crying  child. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Mark,  nodding  to  a  woman  who  was 
dressing  her  three  children  at  no  great  distance  from  him — 
and  the  grin  upon  his  face  had  by  this  time  spread  from  ear 
to  ear — "  hand  over  one  of  them  young  uns  according  ,to 
custom." 

"  I  wish  you'd  get  breakfast,  Mark,  instead  of  worrying 
with  people  who  don't  belong  to  you,"  observed  Martin, 
petulantlv. 

"All  right,"  said  Mark.  ''Shell  do  that.  It's  a  fair 
division  of  labor,  sir.  I  wash  her  boys,  and  she  makes  our 
tea.     I  never  could  make  tea,  but  any  one  can  wash  a  boy."^ 


2S6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  woman,  who  was  delicate  and  ill,  felt  and  understood 
his  kindness,  as  well  she  might,  for  she  had  been  covered 
every  night  with  his  great-coat,  while  he  had  had  for  his 
own  bed  the  bare  boards  and  a  rug.  But,  Martin,  who  sel-= 
dom  got  up  or  looked  about  him,  was  quite  incensed  by  the 
folly  of  this  speech,  and  expressed  his  dissatisfaction,  by  an 
impatient  groan. 

"  So  it  is,  certainly,"  said  Mark,  brushing  the  child's  hair 
as  coolly  as  if  hfe  had  been  born  and  bred  a  barber. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  now  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  What  you  said,"  replied  Mark  ;  '*  or  what  you  meant, 
when  you  gave  that  there  dismal  vent  to  your  feelings.  I 
quite  go  along  with  it,  sir.     It  t's  very  hard  upon  her." 

"  What  is  ?  " 

"  Making  the  voyage  by  herself  along  with  these  young 
impediments  here,  and  going  such  a  way  at  such  a  time  of 
the  year  to  join  her  husband.  If  you  don't  want  to  be  driven 
mad  with  yellow  soap  in  your  eye,  young  man,"  said  Mr, 
Tapley  to  the  second  urchin,  who  was  by  this  time  under 
his  hands  at  the  basin,  "  you'd  better  shut  it." 

*'  Where  does  she  join  her  husband  ? "  asked  Martin, 
yawning. 

*'  Why,  I'm  very  much  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Tapley  in  a  low 
voice,  "  that  she  don't  know.  I  hope  she  mayn't  miss  him. 
But  she  sent  her  last  letter  by  hand,  and  it  don't  seem  to 
have  been  very  clearly  understood  betv/een  'em  without  it, 
and  if  she  don't  see  him  a  waving  his  pocket-handkerchief 
on  the  shore,  like  a  pictur  out  of  a  song-book,  my  opinion  is, 
she'll  break  her  heart." 

"  Why,  how,  in  folly's  name,  does  the  woman  come  to  be 
on  board  ship  on  such  a  wild-goose  venture  !  "  cried  Martin. 

Mr.  Tapley  glanced  at  him  for  a  moment  as  he  lay  pros- 
trate in  his  berth,  and  then  said,  very  quickly  : 

"  Ah  !  How,  indeed  !  I  can't  think  !  He's  been  away 
from  her,  for  two  years  ;  she's  been  very  poor  and  lonely  in 
her  own  country  ;  and  has  always  been  a-looking  forward  to 
meeting  him.  It's  very  strange  she  should  be  here.  Quite 
amazing  !  A  little  mad,  perhaps  !  There  can't  be  no  other 
way  of  accounting  for  it." 

Martin  was  too  far  gone  in  the  lassitude  of  sea-sickness 
to  make  any  reply  to  these  words,  or  even  to  attend  to  them 
as  they  were  spoken.  And  the  subject  of  their  discourse 
returning  at  this  crisis  with  some  hot  tea,  effectually  put  a 
stop  to  any  resumption  of  the  theme  by   Mr.    'lapley  ;  who, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  257 

when  the  meal  was  over,  and  he  had  adjusted  Martin's  bed, 
went  up  on  deck  to  wash  the  breakfast  service,  which  con- 
sisted of  two  half-pint  tin  mugs,  and  a  shaving-pot  of  the 
same  metal. 

It  is  due  to  Mark  Tapley  to  state,  that  he  suffered  at  least 
as  much  from  sea-sickness  as  any  man,  woman,  or  child,  on 
board  ;  and  that  he  had  a  peculiar  faculty  of  knocking  him- 
self about  on  the  smallest  provocation,  and  losing  his  legs 
at  every  lurch  of  the  ship.  But  resolved,  in  his  usual 
phrase,  to  "  come  out  strong  "  under  disadvantageous  cir- 
cumstances, he  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  steerage,  and 
made  no  more  of  stopping  in  the  middle  of  a  facetious  con- 
versation to  go  away  and  be  excessively  ill  by  himself,  and 
afterward  come  back  in  the  very  best  and  gayest  of  tempers 
to  resume  it,  than  if  such  a  course  of  proceeding  had  been 
the  commonest  in  the  world. 

It  can  not  be  said  that  as  his  illness  wore  off,  his  cheerful- 
ness and  good-nature  increased,  because  they  would  hardly 
admit  of  augmentation  ;  but  his  usefulness  among  the  weaker 
members  of  the  party  was  much  enlarged  ;  and  at  all  times 
and  seasons  there  he  was  exerting  it.  If  a  gleam  of  sun 
shone  out  of  the  dark  sky  down  Mark  tumbled  into  the  cabin, 
and  presently  up  he  came  again  with  a  woman  in  his  arms, 
or  half-a-dozen  children,  or  a  man,  or  a  bed,  or  a  saucepan, 
or  a  basket,  or  something  animate  or  inanimate,  that  he 
thought  would  be  the  better  for  the  air.  If  an  hour  or  two 
of  fine  weather  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  tempted  those  who 
seldom  or  never  came  on  deck  at  other  times,  to  crawl  into 
the  long-boat,  or  lie  down  upon  the  spare  spars,  and  try  to 
eat  there,  in  the  center  of  the  group  was  Mr.  Tapley,  hand- 
ing about  salt  beef  and  biscuit,  or  dispensing  tastes  of  grog, 
or  cutting  up  the  children's  provisions  with  his  pocket-knife, 
for  their  greater  ease  and  comfort,  or  reading  aloud  from  a 
venerable  newspaper,  or  singing  some  roaring  old  song  to  a 
select  party,  or  writing  the  beginnings  of  letters  to  their 
friends  at  home  for  people  who  couldn't  write,  or  cracking 
jokes  with  the  crew,  or  nearly  getting  blown  over  the  side, 
or  emerging,  half-drowned,  from  a  shower  of  spray,  or  lend- 
ing a  hand  somewhere  or  other  ;  but  always  doing  some- 
thing for  the  general  entertainment.  At  night,  when  the 
cooking-fire  was  lighted  on  the  deck,  and  the  driving  sparks 
that  flew  among  the  rigging,  and  the  cloud  of  sails,  seemed 
to  menace  the  ship  with  certain  annihilation  by  fire,  in  case 
the  elements  of  air  and  water  failed  to  compass  her  destruc- 


2s8  Martin  chuzzlewit. 

tion  ;  there,  again,  was  Mr.  Tapley,  with  his  coat  off  and 
his  shirt-sleeves  turned  up  to  his  elbows,  doing  all  kinds  of 
culinary  offices  ;  compounding  the  strangest  dishes  ;  recog- 
nized by  every  one  as  an  established  authority  ;  and  helping 
all  parties  to  achieve  something,  which,  left  to  themselves, 
they  never  could  have  done,  and  never  would  have  dreamed 
of.  In  short,  there  never  was  a  more  popular  character 
than  Mark  Tapley  became,  on  board  that  noble  and  fast- 
sailing-line-of-packet-ship.  The  Screw;  and  he  attained  at 
last  to  such  a  pitch  of  universal  admiration,  that  he  began 
to  hav^e  grave  doubts  within  himself  whether  a  man  might 
reasonably  claim  any  credit  for  being  jolly  under  such 
exciting  circumstances. 

"  If  this  was  going  to  last,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  there'd  be 
no  great  difference  as  I  can  perceive,  between  The  Screw  and 
the  Dragon.  I  never  am  to  get  any  credit,  I  think.  I  begin  to 
be  afraid  that  the  fates  is  determined  to  make  the  world 
easy  to  me." 

"  Well,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  near  whose  berth  he  had 
ruminated  to  this  effect.     "  "When  will  this  be  over  ? " 

"  Another  week,  they  say,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  will  most 
likely  bring  us  into  port.  The  ship's  a-going  along  at  pres- 
ent, as  sensible  as  a  ship  can,  sir  ;  though  I  don't  mean  to 
say  as  that's  any  very  high  praise." 

'*  I  don't  think  it  is,  indeed,"  groaned  Martin. 

*'  You'd  feel  all  the  better  for  it,  sir,  if  you  was  to  turn 
out,"  observed  Mark. 

"  And  be  seen  by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  the  after- 
deck,"  returned  Martin,  with  a  scornful  emphasis  upon  the 
words,  "  mingling  with  the  beggarly  crowd  that  are  stowed 
away  in  this  vile  hole.  I  should  be  greatly  the  better  for 
that,  no  doubt  !  " 

"  I'm  thankful  that  I  can't  say  from  my  own  experience 
what  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman  may  be,"  said  Mark,  "  but 
I  should  have  thought,  sir,  as  a  gentleman  would  feel  a  deal 
more  uncomfortable  down  here,  than  up  in  the  fresh  air, 
especially  when  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  after-cabin 
know  just  as  much  about  him,  and  are  likely  to  trouble 
their  heads  about  him,  in  the  same  proportion.  I  should 
have  thought  that,  certainly." 

"  I  tell  you,  then,"  rejoined  Martin,  *'  you  would  have 
thought  wrong,  and  do  think  wrong." 

"  Very  likely,  sir,"  said  Mark,  with  imperturbable  good 
temper.     "I  often  do." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  259 

"  As  to  lying  here,"  cried  Martin,  raising  himself  on  his 
elbow,  and  looking  angrily  at  his  follower.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose it's  a  pleasure  to  lie  here  ?  " 

**  All  the  mad-hoLises  in  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Tapley, 
*'  couldn't  produce  such  a  maniac  as  the  man  must  be  who 
could  think  that." 

''  Then  why  are  you  forever  goading  and  urging  me  to 
o-et  up  ?  "  asked  Martin.  *'  I  lie  here  because  I  don't  wish 
to  be  recognized,  in  the  better  days  to  which  I  aspire,  by 
any  purse-proud  ci-tizen,  as  the  man  who  came  over  with 
him  among  the  steerage  passengers.  I  lie  here,  because  I  wish 
to  conceal  my  circumstances  and  myself,  and  not  to  arrive 
in  a  new  world  badged  and  ticketed  as  an  utterly  poverty- 
stricken  man.  If  I  could  have  afforded  a  passage  in  the 
after-cabin,  I  should  have  held  up  my  head  with  the  rest. 
As  I  couldn't,  I  hide  it.     Do  you  understand  that  ?  " 

*'  1  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  didn't  know  you 
took  it  so  much  to  heart  as  this  comes  to" 

^'  Of  course  you  didn't  know,"  returned  his  master.  "  How 
should  you  know,  unless  I  told  you?  It's  no  trial  to  you, 
Mark,  to  make  yourself  comfortable  and  to  bustle  about. 
It's  as  natural  for  you  to  do  so  under  the  circumstances  as 
it  is  for  me  not  to  do  so.  Why,  you  don't  suppose  there  is 
a  living  creature  in  this  ship  who  can  by  possibility  have 
half  so  much  to  undergo  on  board  of  her  as  /  have  ?  Do 
you  ?  "  he  asked,  sitting  upright  in  his  berth  and  looking  at 
Mark,  with  an  expression  of  great  earnestness  not  unmixed 
with  wonder. 

Mark  twisted  his  face  into  a  tight  knot,  and  wath  his  head 
very  much  on  one  side  pondered  upon  this  question  as  if  he 
felt  it  an  extremely  difficult  one  to  answer.  He  was  relieved 
from  his  embarrassment  by  Martin  himself,  who  said,  as  he 
stretched  himself  upon  his  back  again  and  resumed  the.  book 
he  had  been  reading. 

^'  But  what  is  the  use  of  my  putting  such  a  case  to  you, 
when  the  very  essence  of  what  I  have  been  saying,  is,  that 
you  can  not  by  possibility  understand  it  !  Make  me  a  little 
brandy-and-water,  cold  and  very  weak,  and  give  me  a  bis- 
cuit, and  tell  your  friend,  who  is  a  nearer  neighbor  of  ours 
than  I  could  wish,  to  try  and  keep  her  children  a  little  quieter 
to-night  than  she  did  last  night  ;  that's  a  good  fellow." 

Mr.  Tapley  set  himself  to  obey  these  orders  with  great 
alacrity,  and  pending  their  execution,  it  may  be  presumed 
his   flagging   spirits  revived,   inasmuch  as  he   several   times 


26o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

observed,  below  his  breath,  that  in  respect  of  its  power  of 
imparting  a  credit  to  jollity,  The  Screw  unquestionably  had 
some  decided  advantages  over  the  Dragon.  He  also 
remarked,  that  it  was  a  high  gratification  to  him  to  reflect  that 
he  would  carry  its  main  excellence  ashore  with  him,  and 
have  it  constantly  beside  him,  wherever  he  went  ;  but  what 
he  meant  by  these  consolatory  thoughts  he  did  not  explain. 

And  now  a  general  excitement  began  to  prevail  on  board; 
and  various  predictions  relative  to  the  precise  day,  and  even 
the  precise  hour  at  which  they  would  reach  New  York,  were 
freely  broached.  There  was  infinitely  more  crowding  on 
deck  and  looking  over  the  ship's  side  than  there  had  been 
before  ;  and  an  epidemic  broke  out  for  packing  up  things 
every  morning,  which  required  unpacking  again  every  night. 
Those  who  had  any  letters  to  deliver,  or  any  friends  to  meet, 
or  any  settled  plans  of  going  anywhere  or  doing  any  thing, 
discussed  their  prospects  a  hundred  times  a  day  ;  and  as 
this  class  of  passengers  was  very  small,  and  the  number  of 
those  who  had  no  prospects  whatever  was  very  large,  there 
were  plenty  of  listeners  and  few  talkers.  Those  who  had 
been  ill  all  along,  got  well  now,  and  those  who  had  been 
well,  got  better.  An  American  gentleman  in  the  after-cabin, 
who  had  been  wrapped  up  in  fur  and  oilskin  the  whole  pas- 
sage, unexpectedly  appeared  in  a  very  shiny,  tall,  black  hat, 
and  constantly  overhauled  a  very  little  valise  of  pale  leather, 
which  contained  his  clothes,  linen,  brushes,  shaving  appara- 
tus, books,  trinkets,  and  other  baggage.  He  likewise  stuck 
his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets,  and  walked  the  deck  with 
his  nostrils  dilated,  as  already  inhaling  the  air  of  freedom 
which  carries  death  to  all  tyrants,  and  can  never  (under  any 
circumstances  worth  mentioning)  be  breathed  by  slaves. 
An  English  gentleman  who  was  strongly  suspected  of  hav- 
ing run  away  from  a  bank,  with  something  in  his  possession 
belonging  to  its  strong-box  besides  the  key,  grew  eloquent 
upon  the  subject  of  the  rights  of  man,  and  hummed  the 
Marseillaise  hymn  constantly.  In  a  word,  one  great  sensa- 
tion pervaded  the  whole  ship,  and  the  soil  of  America  lay 
close  before  them,  so  close  at  last,  that,  upon  a  certain  star- 
light night,  they  took  a  pilot  on  board,  and  within  a  few 
hours  afterward  lay  to  until  the  morning,  awaiting  the  arri- 
val of  a  steamboat  in  which  the  passengers  were  to  be  con- 
veyed ashore. 

Off  she  came,  soon  after  it  was  light  next  morning,  and 
lying  alongside  an  hour  or  more — during  which  period  her 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  261 

very  firemen  were  objects  of  hardly  less  interest  and  curi- 
osity, than  if  they  had  been  so  many  angels,  good  or  bad — 
took  all  her  living  freight  aboard.  Among  them,  Mark,  who 
still  had  his  friend  and  her  three  children  under  his  close 
protection  ;  and  Martin,  who  had  once  more  dressed  him- 
self in  his  usual  attire,  but  wore  a  soiled,  old  cloak  above 
his  ordinary  clothes,  until  such  time  as  he  should  separate 
forever  from  his  late  companions. 

The  steamer — which,  with  its  machinery  on  deck,  looked, 
as  it  worked  its  long  slim  legs,  like  some  enormously  mag- 
nified insect  or  antediluvian  monster — dashed  at  great  speed 
up  a  beautiful  bay  ;  and  presently  they  saw  some  heights, 
and  islands,  and  a  long,  flat,  straggling  city. 

''And  this,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  looking  far  ahead,  "is  the 
land  of  liberty,  is  it  ?  Very  well.  I'm  agreeable.  Any  land 
will  do  for  me,  after  so  much  water  ! " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MART'N  DISEMBARKS  FROM  THAT  NOBLE  AND  FAST-SAILING- 
LINE-OF-PACKET  SHIP,  THE  SCREW,  AT  THE  PORT  OF  NEW- 
YORK,  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA.  HE  MAKES 
SOME  ACQUAINTANCES,  AND  DINES  AT  A  BOARDING-HOUSE. 
THE  PARTICULARS  OF  THOSE    TRANSACTIONS. 

Some  trifling  excitement  prevailed  upon  the  very  brink 
and  margin  of  the  land  of  liberty;  for  an  alderman  had  been 
elected  the  day  before,  and  party  feeling  naturally  running 
rather  high  on  such  an  exciting  occasion,  the  friends  of  the 
disappointed  candidate  had  found  it  necessary  to  assert  the 
great  principles  of  purity  of  election  and  freedom  of 
opinion  by  breaking  a  few  legs  and  arms,  and  furthermore 
pursuing  one  obnoxious  gentleman  through  the  streets  with 
the  design  of  slitting  his  nose.  These  good-humored  little 
outbursts  of  the  popular  fancy  were  not  in  themselves  suffi- 
ciently remarkable  to  create  any  great  stir,  after  the  lapse  of 
a  whole  night;  but  they  found  fresh  life  and  notoriety  in  the 
breath  of  the  newsboys,  who  not  only  proclaimed  them  with 
shrill  yells  in  all  the  highways  and  by-ways  of  the  town, 
upon  the  wharves  and  among  the  shipping,  but  on  the  deck 
and  down  in  the  cabins  of  the  steamboat;  which  before 
she  touched  the  shore,  was  boarded  and  overrun  by  a  legion 
of  those  young  citizens. 


262  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

**  Here's  this  morning's  New  York  Sewer!  "  cried  one. 
"  Here's  this  morning's  New  York  Stabber!  Here's  the  New 
York  Family  Spy!  Here's  the  New  York  Private  Listener! 
Here's  the  New  York  Peeper!  Here's  the  New  York 
Plunderer!  Here's  the  New  York  Keyhole  Reporter! 
Here's  the  New  York  Rowdy  Journal!  Here's  all  the  New 
York  papers!  Here's  full  particulars  of  the  patriotic  Loco- 
foco  movement  yesterday,  in  which  the  Whigs  was  so 
chawed  up;  and  the  last  Alabama  gouging  case;  and  the 
interesting  Arkansas  dooel  with  Bowie  knives;  and  all  the 
political,  commercial,  and  fashionable  news.  Here  they 
are!     Here  they  are!     Here's  the  papers,  here's  the  papers!  " 

"  Here's  the  Sewer!  "  cried  another.  "  Here's  the  New 
York  Sewer!  Here's  some  of  the  twelfth  thousand  of 
to-day's  Sewer,  with  the  best  accounts  of  the  markets,  and  all 
the  shipping  news,  and  four  whole  columns  of  country  corre- 
spondence, and  a  full  account  of  the  ball  at  Mrs.  White's 
last  night,  where  all  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  New  York 
was  assembled;  with  the  Sewer's  own  particulars  of  the 
private  lives  of  all  the  ladies  that  was  there.  Here's  the 
Sewer!  Here's  some  of  the  twelfth  thousand  of  the  New 
York  Sewer!  Here's  the  Sewer's  exposure  of  the  Wall 
street  gang,  and  the  Sewer's  exposure  of  the  Washington 
gang,  and  the  Sewer's  exclusive  account  of  a  flagrant  act 
of  dishonesty  committed  by  the  secretary  of  state  when  he 
was  eight  years  old;  now  communicated,  at  a  great  expense, 
by  his  own  nurse.  Here's  the  Sewer!  Here's  the  New 
York  Sewer,  in  its  twelfth  thousand,  with  a  whole  column 
of  New  Yorkers  to  be  shown  up,  and  all  their  names  printed. 
Here's  the  Sewer's  article  upon  the  judge  that  tried  him, 
day  afore  yesterday,  for  libel,  and  the  Sewer's  tribute  to  the 
independent  jury  that  didn't  convict  him,  and  the  Sewer's 
account  of  what  they  might  have  expected  if  they  had! 
Here's  the  Sewer,  here's  the  Sewer!  Here's  the  wide-awake 
Sewer;  always  on  the  look-out;  the  leading  journal  of  the 
United  States,  nov/  in  its  twelfth  thousand,  and  still  a  print- 
ing off.     Here's  the  New  York  Sewer!  " 

**  It  is  in  such  enlightened  means,"  said  a  voice  almost  in 
Martin's  ear,  ''  that  the  bubbling  passions  of  my  country  find 
a  vent." 

Martin  turned  involuntarily,  and  saw,  standing  close  at 
his  side,  a  sallow  gentleman,  with  sunken  cheeks,  black  hair 
small  twinkling  eyes,  and  a  singular  expression  hovering 
about   that   region  of   his   face,  which   was  not  a    frown, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  263 

nor  a  leer,  and  yet  might  have  been  mistaken  at  the 
first  glance  for  either.  Indeed  it  would  have  been  difficult 
on  a  much  closer  acquaintance,  to  describe  it  in  any  more 
satisfactory  terms  than  as  a  mixed  expression  of  vulgar 
cunning  and  conceit.  This  gentleman  wore  a  rather 
broad-brimmed  hat  for  the  greater  wisdom  of  his  appear- 
ance; and  had  his  arms  folded  for  the  greater  impres- 
siveness  of  his  attitude.  He  was  somewhat  shabbily 
dressed  in  a  blue  surtout  reaching  nearly  to  his  ankles, 
short  loose  trowsers  of  the  same  color,  and  a  faded  buff  waist- 
coat, through  which  a  discolored  shirt-frill  struggled  to  force 
itself  into  notice,  as  asserting  an  equality  of  civil  rights 
with  the  other  portions  of  his  dress,  and  maintaining  a 
declaration  of  independence  on  its  own  account.  His  feet, 
which  were  of  unusually  large  proportions,  were  leisurely 
crossed  before  him  as  he  half  leaned  against,  half  sat  upon, 
the  steamboat's  bulwark  ;  and  his  thick  cane,  shod  with  a 
mighty  ferule  at  one  end  and  armed  with  a  great  metal  knob 
at  the  other,  depended  from  a  line-and-tassel  on  his  wrist. 
Thus  attired,  and  thus  composed  into  an  aspect  of  great  pro- 
fundity, the  gentleman  twitched  up  the  right-hand  corner  of 
his  mouth  and  his  right  eye,  simultaneously,  and  said,  once 
more: 

**  It  is  in  such  enlightened  means,  that  the  bubbling  pas- 
sions of  my  country  find  a  vent." 

As  he  looked  at  Martin,  and  nobody  else  was  by,  Martin 
inclined  his  head,  and  said  : 

"  You  allude  to—?  " 

"  To  the  palladium  of  rational  liberty  at  home,  sir,  and  the 
dread  of  foreign  oppression  abroad,"  returned  the  gentle- 
man, as  he  pointed  with  his  cane  to  an  uncommonly  dirty 
newsboy  with  one  eye.  "  To  the  envy  of  the  world,  sir,  and 
the  leaders  of  human  civilization.  Let  me  ask  you,  sir,"  he 
added,  bringing  the  ferule  of  his  stick  heavily  upon  the  deck 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  must  not  be  equivocated  with, 
"  how  do  you  like  my  country  ?  " 

"  I  am  hardly  prepared  to  answer  that  question  yet."  said 
Martin,  "seeing  that  I  have  not  been  ashore." 

"  Well,  I  should  expect  you  were  not  prepared,  sir/'  said 
the  gentleman,  "  to  behold  such  signs  of  national  prosperity 
as  those  ? " 

He  pointed  to  the  vessels  lying  at  the  wharves  ;  and  then 
gave  a  vague  flourish  with  his  stick,  as  if  he  would  include 
the  air  and  water,  generally,  in  this  remark. 


264  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Really,"  said  Martin,  "  I  don't  know.  Yes.  I  think  I 
was." 

The  gentleman  glanced  at  him  with  a  knowing  look,  and 
said  he  liked  his  policy.  It  was  natural,  he  said,  and  it 
pleased  him  as  a  philosopher  to  observe  the  prejudices  of 
human  nature. 

"  You  have  brought,  I  see,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  round 
toward  Martin,  and  resting  his  chin  on  the  top  of  his  stick, 
"  the  usual  amount  of  misery  and  poverty  and  ignorance  and 
crime,  to  be  located  in  the  bosom  of  the  great  republic. 
Well,  sir  !  let  'em  come  on  in  ship-loads  from  the  old 
country.  When  vessels  are  about  to  founder,  the  rats  are 
said  to  leave  'em.  There  is  considerable  of  truth,  I  find,  in 
that  remark." 

*'  The  old  ship  will  keep  afloat  a  year  or  two  longer  yet, 
perhaps,"  said  Martin  with  a  smile,  partly  occasioned  by 
what  the  gentleman  said,  and  partly  by  his  manner  of  saying 
it,  which  was  odd  enough,  for  he  emphasized  all  the  small 
words  and  syllables  in  his  discourse,  and  left  the  others  to 
take  care  of  themselves,  as  if  he  thought  the  larger  parts  of 
speech  could  be  trusted  alone,  but  the  little  ones  required  to 
be  constantly  looked  after. 

"  Hope  is  said  by  the  poet,  sir,"  observed  the  gentleman, 
"  to  be  the  nurse  of  young  desire." 

Martin  signified  that  he  had  heard  of  the  cardinal  virtue 
in  question  serving  occasionally  in  that  domestic  capacity. 

*'  She  will  not  rear  her  infant  in  the  present  instance,  sir, 
you'll  find,"  observed  the  gentleman. 

"  Time  will  show,"  said  Martin. 

The  gentleman  nodded  his  head,  gravely,  and  said  ; 
''  What  is  your  name,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  told  him. 

"  How  old  are  you,  sir  ? " 

Martin  told  him. 

"  What  it  your  profession,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  told  him  that,  also. 

"  What  is  your  destination,  sir  ?  "    inquired  the  gentleman. 

*'  Really,"  said  Martin,  laughing,  *'  I  can't  satisfy  you  in 
that  particular,  for  I  don't  know  it  myself." 

*'  Yes  ?  "   said  the  gentleman. 

''  No,"  said  Martin. 

The  gentleman  adjusted  his  cane  under  his  left  arm,  and 
took  a  more  deliberate  and  complete  survey  of  Martin  than 
he  had  yet  had  leisure  to  make.     Wlicn   he   had   completed 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  265 

his  inspection,  he   put  out   his  right  hand,  shook   Martin's 
hand,  and  said  : 

"  My  name  is  Colonel  Diver,  sir.  I  am  the  editor  of  the 
New  York  Rowdy  Journal." 

Martin  received  the  communication  with  that  degree  of 
respect  which  an  announcement  so  distinguished  appeared 
to  demand. 

"  The  New  York  Rowdy  Journal,  sir,"  resumed  the  colo- 
nel, "  is,  as  I  expect  you  know,  the  organ  of  our  aristocracy 
in  this  city." 

''  Oh  !  there  is  an  aristocracy  here,  then  ? "  said  Martin. 
*'  Of  what  is  it  composed  ?  " 

"  Of  intelligence,  sir,"  replied  the  colonel  ;  "  of  intelli- 
gence and  virtue.  And  of  their  necessary  consequence  in 
this  republic.     Dollars,  sir." 

Martin  was  very  glad  to  hear  this,  feeling  well  assured  that 
if  intelligence  and  virtue  led,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the 
acquisition  of  dollars,  he  would  speedily  become  a  great  cap- 
italist. He  was  about  to  express  the  gratification  such  news 
afforded  him,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  captain  of  the 
ship,  who  came  up  at  the  moment  to  shake  hands  with  the 
colonel;  and  who,  seeing  a  well-dressed  stranger  on  the  deck 
(for  Martin  had  thrown  aside  his  cloak),  shook  hands  with 
him  also.  This  was  an  unspeakable  relief  to  Martin,  who,  in 
spite  of  the  acknowledged  supremacy  of  intelligence  and  vir- 
tue in  that  happy  country,  would  have  been  deeply  mortified 
to  appear  before  Colonel  Diver  in  the  poor  character  of  a 
steerage  passenger. 

"  Well,  cap'en!  "  said  the  colonel, 

"Well,  colonel!"  cried  the  captain.  "You're  looking 
most  uncommon  bright,  sir.  I  can  hardly  realize  its  being 
you,  and  that's  a  fact." 

"  A  good  passage,  cap'en? "  inquired  the  colonel,  taking 
him  aside. 

"  Well,  now!  It  was  a  pretty  spanking  run,  sir,"  said,  or 
rather  sung,  the  captain,  who  was  a  genuine  New  Englander, 
"  considerin'  the  weather." 

"  Yes?"  said  the  colonel. 

"  Well,  it  was,  sir,"  said  the  captain.  "  I've  just  now 
sent  a  boy  up  to  your  office  with  the  passenger-list,  colonel." 

"You  haven't  got  another  boy  to  spare,  p'raps,  cap'en?" 
said  the  colonel,  in  a  tone  almost  amounting  to  severity. 

"  I  guess  there  air  a  dozen,  if  you  want  'em,  colonel,"  said 
the  captain. 


266  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  One  moderate  big  'un  could  convey  a  dozen  of  cham- 
pagne, perhaps,"  observed  the  colonel  musing,  "  to  my  office. 
You  said  a  spanking  run,  I  think  ? " 

"  Well,  so  I  did,"  was  the  reply. 

**  It's  very  nigh  you  know,"  observed  the  colonel.  "  I'm 
glad  it  was  a  spanking  run,  cap'en.  Don't  mind  about  quarts 
if  you're  short  of  'em.  The  boy  can  as  well  bring  four-and- 
twenty  pints,  and  travel  twice  as  once.  A  first-rate  spanker, 
cap'en,  was  it?     Yes? " 

"  A  most  e — tarnal  spanker,"  said  the  skipper. 

"  I  admire  at  your  good  fortun,  cap'en.  You  might  loan 
me  a  corkscrew  at  the  same  time,  and  half-a-dozen  glasses  if 
you  liked.  However  bad  the  elements  combine  against  my 
country's  noble  packet-ship,  the  Sci-eiv,  sir,"  said  the  colonel, 
turning  to  Martin,  and  drawing  a  flourish  on  the  surface  of 
the  deck  with  his  cane,  "  her  passage  either  way  is  almost 
certain  to  eventuate  a  spanker!  " 

The  captain,  who  had  the  Sewer  below  at  that  moment, 
lunching  expensively  in  one  cabin,  while  the  amiable  Stab- 
ber  was  drinking  himself  into  a  state  of  blind  madness  in 
another,  took  a  cordial  leave  of  his  friend  the  colonel,  and 
hurried  away  to  dispatch  the  champagne,  well-knowing  (as  it 
afterward  appeared)  that  if  he  failed  to  conciliate  the  editor 
of  the  Rowdy  Journal,  that  potentate  would  denounce  him 
and  his  ship  in  large  capitals  before  he  was  a  day  older;  and 
would  probably  assault  the  memory  of  his  mother  also,  who 
had  not  been  dead  more  than  twenty  years.  The  colonel 
being  again  left  alone  with  Martin,  checked  him  as  he  was 
moving  away,  and  offered,  in  consideration  of  his  being  an 
Englishman,  to  show  him  the  town,  and  to  introduce  him,  if 
such  were  his  desire,  to  a  genteel  boarding-house.  But 
before  they  entered  on  these  proceedings  (he  said),  he  would 
beseech  the  honor  of  his  company  at  the  office  of  the  Rowdy 
Journal,  to  partake  of  a  bottle  of  champagne  of  his  own 
importation. 

AH  this  was  so  extremely  kind  and  hospitable,  that  Martin, 
though  it  was  quite  early  in  the  morning,  readily  acquiesced. 
So,  instructing  Mark,  who  was  deeply  engaged  with  his  friend 
and  her  three  children,  that  when  he  had  done  assisting  them, 
and  had  cleared  the  baggage,  he  was  to  wait  for  further  orders 
at  the  Rowdy  Journal  office,  Martin  accompanied  his  new 
friend  on  shore. 

They  made  their  way  as  they  best  could  through  the  mel- 
ancholy crowd  of  emigrants  upon  the  wharf,  who,  grouped 


.     MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  267 

about  their  beds  and  boxes,  with  the  bare  ground  below  them 
and  the  bare  sky  above,  might  have  fallen  from  another  planet, 
for  any  thing  they  knew  of  the  country;  and  walked  for  some 
short  distance  along  a  busy  street,  bounded  on  one  side  by 
the  quays  and  shipping;  and  on  the  other  by  a  long  row  of 
staring  red-brick  store-houses  and  offices,  ornamented  with 
more  black  boards  and  white  letters,  and  more  white  boards 
and  black  letters,  than  Martin  had  ever  seen  before,  in  fifty 
times  the  space.  Presently  they  turned  up  a  narrow  street, 
and  presently  into  other  narrow  streets,  until  at  last  they 
stopped  before  a  house  whereon  was  painted  in  great  charac- 
ters, "  Rowdy  Journal." 

The  colonel,  who  had  walked  the  whole  way  with  one  hand 
in  his  breast,  his  head  occasionally  vvagging  from  side  to  side, 
and  his  hat  thrown  back  upon  his  ears,  like  a  man  who  was 
oppressed  to  inconvenience  by  a  sense  of  his  own  greatness, 
led  the  way  up  a  dark  and  dirty  flight  of  stairs  into  a  room 
of  similar  character,  all  littered  and  bestrewn  with  odds  and 
ends  of  newspapers  and  other  crumpled  fragments,  both  in 
proof  and  manuscript.  Behind  a  mangy  old  writing-table  in 
this  apartment,  sat  a  figure  with  a  stump  of  a  pen  in  his 
mouth  and  a  great  pair  of  scissors  in  its  right  hand,  clipping 
and  slicing  at  a  file  of  Rowdy  Journals;  and  it  was  such  a 
laughable  figure  that  Martin  had  some  difficulty  in  preserv- 
ing his  gravity,  though  conscious  of  the  close  observation  of 
Colonel  Diver. 

The  individual  who  sat  clipping  and  slicing  as  aforesaid 
at  the  Rowdy  Journals,  was  a  small  young  gentleman  of  very 
juvenile  appearance,  and  unwholesomely  pale  in  the  face; 
partly,  perhaps,  from  intense  thought,  but  partly,  there  is  no 
doubt  from  the  excessive  use  of  tobacco,which  he  was  at  that 
moment  chewing  vigorously.  He  wore  his  shirt-collar 
turned  down  over  a  black  ribbon;  and  his  lank  hair,  a  fragile 
crop,  was  not  only  smoothed  and  parted  back  from  his  brow, 
that  none  of  the  poetry  of  his  aspect  might  be  lost,  but  had, 
here  and  there,  been  grubbed  up  by  the  roots,  which 
accounted  for  his  loftiest  developments  being  somewhat 
pimply.  He  had  that  order  of  nose  on  which  the  envy  of 
mankind  has  bestowed  the  appellation  *' snub,"  and  it  was 
very  much  turned  up  at  the  end,  as  with  a  lofty  scorn.  Upon 
the  upper  lip  of  this  young  gentleman,  were  tokens  of  a 
sandy  down,  so  very,  very  smooth  and  scant,  that,  though 
encouraged  to  the  utmost,  it  looked  more  like  a  recent  trace 
of  gingerbread,  than  the  fair  promise   of  a  mustache;  and 


265  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.      ' 

this  conjecture,  his  apparently  tender  age  went  far  to 
strengthen.  He  was  intent  upon  his  work.  Every  time  he 
snapped  the  great  pair  of  scissors,  he  made  a  corresponding 
motion  with  his  jaws,  which  gave  him  a  very  terrible 
appearance. 

Martin  was  not  long  in  determining  within  himself  that 
this  must  be  Colonel  Diver's  son;  the  hope  of  the  family, 
and  future  mainspring  of  the  Rowdy  Journal.  Indeed  he 
had  begun  to  say  that  he  presumed  this  was  the  colonel's 
little  boy,  and  that  it  was  very  pleasant  to  see  him  playing  at 
editor  in  all  the  guilelessness  of  childhood,  when  the  colonel 
proudly  interposed  and  said: 

"  My  war  correspondent,  sir,  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  !  " 

Martin  could  not  help  starting  at  this  unexpected 
announcement,  and  the  consciousness  of  the  irretrievable 
mistake  he  had  nearly  made. 

Mr.  Brick  seemed  pleased  with  the  sensation  he  produced 
upon  the  stranger,  and  shook  hands  with  him,  with  an  air  of 
patronage  designed  to  reassure  him,  and  to  let  him  know 
that  there  was  no  occasion  to  be  frightened,  for  he  (Brick) 
wouldn't  hurt  him. 

*'  You  have  heard  of  Jefferson  Brick  I  see,  sir,"  quoth  the 
colonel,  with  a  smile.  *'  England  has  heard  of  Jefferson 
Brick,  Europe  has  heard  of  Jefferson  Brick.  Let  me  see. 
When  did  you  leave  England,  sir  ?  " 

"  Five  weeks  ago,"  said  Martin. 

"Five  weeks  ago,"  repeated  the  colonel,  thoughtfully;  as 
he  took  his  seat  upon  the  table  and  swung  his  legs.  ''  Now 
let  me  ask  you,  sir,  which  of  Mr.  Brick's  articles  had  become 
at  that  time  the  most  obnoxious  to  the  British  parliament  and 
the  court  of  Saint  James's  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Martin,  "  I — " 

"  I  have  reason  to  know,  sir,"  interrupted  the  colonel, 
"  that  the  aristocratic  circles  of  your  country  quail  before  the 
name  of  Jefferson  Brick.  I  should  like  to  be  informed,  sir, 
from  your  lips,  which  of  his  sentiments  has  struck  the  dead- 
liest blow — " 

**  At  the  hundred  heads  of  the  hydra  of  corruption  now 
groveling  in  the  dust  beneath  the  lance  of  reason,  and 
spouting  up  to  the  universal  arch  above  us,  its  sanguinary 
gore,"  said  Mr.  Brick,  putting  on  a  little  blue  cloth  cap  with 
a  glazed  front,  and  quoting  his  last  article. 

"  The  libation  of  freedom,  Brick,"  hinted  the  colonel. 

**  Must  sometimes    be  quaffed  in  blood,  colonel,"  cried 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  269 

Brick.  And  when  he  said  "blood,"  he  gave  the  great  pair 
of  scissors  a  sharp  snap,  as  if  they  said  blood  too,  and  were 
quite  of  his  opinion. 

This  done,  they  both  looked  at  Martin,  pausing  for  a 
reply. 

"  Upon  my  life,"  said  Martin,  who  had  by  this  time  quite 
recovered  his  usual  coolness,  ''  I  can't  give  you  any  satisfac- 
tory information  about  it;  for  the  truth  is  that  I — " 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  the  colonel,  glancing  sternly  at  his  war 
correspondent,  and  giving  his  head  one  shake  after  every 
sentence.  "  That  you  never  heard  of  Jefferson  Brick,  sir. 
That  you  never  read  Jefferson  Brick,  sir.  That  you  never 
saw  the  Rowdy  Journal,  sir.  That  you  never  knew,  sir,  of 
its  mighty  influence  upon  the  cabinets  of  Eu — rope.    Yes  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  was  about  to  observe,  certainly,"  said 
Martin. 

"  Keep  cool,  Jefferson,"  said  the  colonel  gravely.  *'  Don't 
bust  !  oh  you  Europeans  !  Arter  that,  let's  have  a  glass  of 
wine  !  "  So  saying,  he  got  down  from  the  table,  and  pro- 
duced, from  a  basket  outside  the  door,  a  bottle  of  champagne, 
and  three  glasses. 

"  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  filling  Mar- 
tin's glass  and  his  own,  and  pushing  the  bottle  to  that  gen- 
tleman, 'Svill  give  us  a  sentiment." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  cried  the  war  correspondent,  "  since  you 
have  concluded  to  call  upon  me,  I  will  respond.  I  will  give 
you,  sir,  the  Rowdy  Journal  and  its  brethren  ;  the  well  of 
truth,  whose  waters  are  black  from  being  composed  of 
printer's  ink,  but  are  quite  clear  enough  for  my  country  to 
behold  the  shadow  of  her  destiny  reflected  in." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  cried  the  colonel,  with  great  complacency. 
*'  There  are  flowery  components,  sir,  in  the  language  of  my 
friend  ? " 

*'  Very  much  so,  indeed,"  said  Martin. 

'*  There  is  to-day's  Rowdy,  sir,"  observed  the  colonel, 
handing  him  a  paper.  "  You'll  find  Jefferson  Brick  at  his 
usual  post  in  the  van  of  human  civilization  and  moral  purity." 

The  colonel  was  by  this  time  seated  on  the  table  again. 
Mr.  Brick  also  took  up  a  position  on  that  same  piece  of  fur- 
niture ;  and  they  fell  to  drinking  pretty  hard.  They  often 
looked  at  Martin  as  he  read  the  paper,  and  then  at  each 
other.  When  he  laid  it  down,  which  was  not  until  they  had 
finished  a  second  bottle,  the  colonel  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  it. 


270  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  Why,  it's  horribly  personal,"  said  Martin. 

The  colonel  seemed  much  flattered  by  this  remark  ;  and 
said  he  hoped  it  was, 

'^  We  are  independent  here,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 
*'We  do  as  we  like." 

^'  If  I  may  judge  from  this  specimen,"  returned  Martin, 
"  there  mu^t  be  a  few  thousands  here,  rather  the  reverse  of 
independent,  who  do  as  they  don't  like." 

"  Well  !  They  yield  to  the  mighty  mind  of  the  popular 
instructor,  sir,"  said  the  colonel.  "  They  rile  up,  sometimes  ; 
but  in  general  we  have  a  hold  upon  our  citizens,  both  in  pub- 
lic and  in  private  life,  which  is  as  much  one  of  the  ennobling 
institutions  of  our  happy  country  as — " 

*'  As  nigger  slavery  itself,"  suggested  Mr.  Brick. 

"  En — tirely  so,"  remarked  the  colonel. 

"  Pray,"  said  Martin,  after  some  hesitation,  ^'  may  I  ven- 
ture to  ask,  with  reference  to  a  case  I  observe  in  this  paper 
of  yours,  whether  the  popular  instructor  often  deals  in — I 
am  at  a  loss  to  express  it  without  giving  you  offense — in 
forgery  ?  In  forged  letters,  for  instance,"  he  pursued,  for 
the  colonel  was  perfectly  calm  and  quite  at  his  ease, 
"  solemnly  purporting  to  have  been  written  at  recent  periods 
by  living  men  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  replied  the  colonel.  *'  It  does,  now  and 
then." 

"  And  the  popular  instructed  ;  what  do  they  do  }  "  asked 
Martin. 

"  Buy  'em,"  said  the  colonel. 

Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  expectorated  and  laughed  ;  the  forme* 
copiously,  the  latter  approvingly. 

"  Buy  'em  by  hundreds  of  thousands,"  resumed  the 
colonel.  ''  We  are  a  smart  people  here,  and  can  appreciate 
smartness." 

*'  Is  smartness  American  for  forgery  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

''Well  !  "  said  the  colonel,  "  I  expect  it's  American  for  a 
good  many  things  that  you  call  by  other  names.  But  you 
can't  help  yourselves  in  Europe.     We  can." 

"  And  do,  sometimes,"  thought  Martin.  "  You  help  your- 
selves with  very  little  ceremony,  too  !  " 

"  At  all  events,  whatever  name  we  choose  to  employ,"  said 
the  colonel,  stooping  down  to  roll  the  third  empty  bottle  into 
a  corner  after  the  other  two,  "  I  suppose  the  art  of  forgery 
was  not  invented  here,  sir  ?  " 

^'I  suppose  not,"  replied  Martin. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  271 

"  Nor  any  other  kind  of  smartness,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Invented  !     No,  I  presume  not." 

"  Well  !  "  said  the  colonel  ;  *'  then  we  got  it  all  from  the 
old  country,  and  the  old  country's  to  blame  for  it,  and  not 
the  new  'un.  There's  an  end  of  that.  Now,  if  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son Brick  and  you  will  be  so  good  as  clear,  I'll  come  out 
last,  and  lock  the  door." 

Rightly  interpreting  this  as  the  signal  for  their  departure, 
Martin  walked  down-stairs  after  the  war  correspondent,  who 
preceded  him  with  great  majesty.  The  colonel  following, 
they  left  the  Rowdy  Journal  office  and  walked  forth  into 
the  streets,  Martin  feeling  doubtful  whether  he  ought  to  kick 
the  colonel  for  having  presumed  to  speak  to  him,  or  whether 
it  came  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  he  and  his 
establishment  could  be  among  the  boasted  usages  of  that 
regenerated  land. 

It  was  clear  that  Colonel  Diver,  in  the  security  of  his 
strong  position,  and  in  his  perfect  understanding  of  the  pub- 
lic sentiment,  cared  very  little  what  Martin  or  any  body  else 
thought  about  him.  His  high-spiced  wares  were  made  to 
sell,  and  they  sold;  and  his  thousands  of  readers  could  as 
rationally  charge  their  delight  in  filth  upon  him,  as  a  glutton 
can  shift  upon  his  cook  the  responsibility  of  his  beastly 
excess.  Nothing  would  have  delighted  the  colonel  more 
than  to  be  told  that  no  such  man  as  he,  could  walk  in  high 
success  the  streets  of  any  other  country  in  the  Avorld  ;  for 
that  would  only  have  been  a  logical  assurance  to  him  of  the 
correct  adaptation  of  his  labors  to  the  prevailing  taste,  and 
of  his  being  strictly  and  peculiarly  a  national  feature  of 
America. 

They  walked  a  mile  or  more  along  a  handsome  street 
which  the  colonel  said  was  called  Broadway,  and  which  Mr. 
Jefferson  Brick  said  ^'whipped  the  universe."  Turning,  at 
length,  into  one  of  the  numerous  streets  which  branched  from 
this  main  thoroughfare,  they  stopped  before  a  rather  mean- 
looking  house  with  jalousie  blinds  to  every  window;  a  flight 
of  steps  before  the  green  street-door;  a  shining  white  orna- 
ment on  the  rails  on  either  side  like  a  petrified  pine  apple, 
polished;  a  little  oblong  plate  of  the  same  material  over  the 
knocker,  whereon  the  name  of  "  Pawkins  "  was  engraved  ; 
and  four  accidental  pigs  looking  down  the  area. 

The  colonel  knocked  at  this  house  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  lived  there;  and  an  Irish  girl  popped  her  head  out  of 
one  of   the  top  windows  to   see  who  it  vras,     Pending  her 


272  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

journey  down  stairs,  the  pigs  were  joined  by  two  or  three 
friends  from  the  next  street,  in  company  with  whom  they  lay 
down  sociably  in  the  gutter. 

,  "  Is   the   major  in-doors  ? "    inquired  the    colonel,  as  he 
entered. 

"  Is  it  the  master,  sir  ?  "  returned  the  girl,  with  a  hesitation 
which  seemed  to  imply  that  they  were  rather  flush  of  majors 
in  that  establishment. 

"  The  master  !  "  said  Colonel  Diver,  stopping  s?  ort  and 
looking  round  at  his  war  correspondent. 

"  Oh  !  The  depressing  institutions  of  that  British  empire, 
colonel,"  said  Jefferson  Brick.     "  Master  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  word  ?  "  asked  Martin. 
^     "  I  should  hope  it   was  never    heard  in    our  country,  sir; 
that's  all,"  said  Jefferson  Brick;  ''except  when  it  is  used  by 
some  degraded  help,  as  new  to  the  blessings  of  our  form  of 
government,  as  this  help  is.     There  are  no  masters  here." 

"  All  '  owners,'  are  they  ?  "  said  Martin. 

Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  followed  in  the  Rowdy  Journal's  foot- 
steps without  returning  any  answer.  Martin  took  the  same 
course,  thinking  as  he  went,  that  perhaps  the  free  and  inde- 
pendent citizens,  who  in  their  moral  elevation,  owned  the 
colonel  for  their  master,  might  render  better  homage  to  the 
goddess,  Liberty,  in  nightly  dreams  upon  the  oven  of  a  Rus- 
sian serf. 

The  colonel  led  the  way  into  a  room  at  the  back  of  the 
house  upon  the  ground-floor,  light,  and  of  fair  dimensions, 
but  exquisitely  uncomfortable,  having  nothing  in  it  but  the 
four  cold  white  walls  and  ceilings,  a  mean  carpet,  a  dreary 
waste  of  dining-table  reaching  from  end  to  end,  and  a 
bewildering  collection  of  cane-bottomed  chairs.  In  a  further 
region  of  this  banqueting-hall  was  a  stove,  garnished  on 
either  side  with  a  great  brass  spittoon,  and  shaped  itself  like 
three  little  iron  barrels  set  up  on  end  in  a  fender,  and  joined 
together  on  the  principle  of  the  Siamese  twins.  Before  it, 
swinging  himself  in  a  rocking-chair,  lounged  a  large  gentle- 
man with  his  hat  on,  who  amused  himself  by  spitting  alter- 
nately into  the  spittoon  on  the  right  hand  of  the  stove,  and 
the  spittoon  on  the  left,  and  then  working  his  way  back  again 
in  the  same  order.  A  negro  lad  in  a  soiled  white  jacket  was 
busily  engaged  in  placing  on  the  table  two  long  rows  of 
knives  and  forks,  relieved  at  intervals  by  jugs  of  water;  and 
as  he  traveled  down  one  side  of  this  festive  board,  he  straight- 
ened with  his  dirty  lis-nds  the  dirtier  cloth,which  was  all  askew, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  273 

and  had  not  been  removed  since  breakfast.  The  atmos- 
phere of  this  room  was  rendered  intensely  hot  and  stifling  by 
the  stove;  but  being  further  flavored  by  a  sickly  gush  of 
soup  from  the  kitchen,  and  by  such  remote  suggestions  of 
tobacco  as  lingered  within  the  brazen  receptacles  already 
mentioned,  it  became,  to  a  stranger's  senses,  almost  insup- 
portable. 

The  gentleman  in  the  rocking-chair  having  his  back 
toward  them,  and  being  much  engaged  in  his  intellectual 
pastime,  was  not  aware  of  their  approach  until  the  colonel 
walking  up  to  the  stove,  contributedhis  mite  toward  the  sup- 
port of  the  left-hand  spittoon,  just  as  the  major — for  it  was 
the  major — bore  down  upon  it.  Major  Pawkins  then  reserved 
his  fire,  and  looking  upward,  said,  with  a  peculiar  air  of 
quiet  weariness,  like  a  man  who  had  been  up  all  night — an  air 
which  Martin  had  already  observed  both  in  the  colonel  and 
Mr.  Jefferson  Brick — 

^'Well,  colonel!" 

*'  Here  is  a  gentleman  from  England,  major,"  the  colonel 
replied,  "  who  has  concluded  to  locate  himself  here  if  the 
amount  of  compensation  suits  him." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  observed  the  major,  shaking 
hands  with  Martin,  and  not  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face. 
**  You  are  pretty  bright,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Never  better,"  said  Martin. 

*'  You  are  never  likely  to  be,"  returned  the  major.  "  You 
will  see  the  sun  shine  /lere." 

*'  I  think  I  remember  to  have  seen  it  shine  at  home  some- 
times," said  Martin,  smiling. 

'*  I  think  not,"  replied  the  major.  He  said  so  with  a 
stoical  indifference,  certainly,  but  still  in  a  tone  of  firmness 
which  admitted  of  no  further  dispute  on  that  point.  When 
he  had  thus  settled  the  question,  he  put  his  hat  a  little  on 
one  side  for  the  greater  convenience  of  scratching  his  head, 
and  saluted  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  with  a  lazy  nod. 

Major  Pawkins  (a  gentleman  of  Pennsylvanian  origin), 
was  distinguished  by  a  very  large  skull  and  a  great  mass  of 
yellow  forehead;  in  deference  to  which  commodities,  it  was 
currently  held  in  bar-rooms  and  other  such  places  of  resort, 
that  the  major  was  a  man  of  huge  sagacity.  He  was  further 
to  be  known  by  a  heavy  eye  and  a  dull,  slow  manner;  and 
for  being  a  man  of  that  kind  who,  mentally  speaking,  requires 
a  deal  of  room  to  turn  himself  in.  But,  in  trading  on  his 
Stock  of  wisdom,  he  invariably  proceeded  on  the  principle 


274  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

of  putting  all  the  goods  he  had  (and  more)  into  his  window; 
and  that  went  a  great  way  with  his  constituency  of  admirers. 
It  went  a  great  way,  perhaps,  with  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  who 
took  occasion  to  whisper  in  Martin's  ear: 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in   our  country,  sir!  " 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  perpetual 
exhibition  in  the  market-place  of  all  his  stock-in-trade  for 
sale  or  hire,  was  the  major's  sole  claim  to  a  very  large  share 
of  sympathy  and  support.  He  was  a  great  politician;  and 
the  one  article  of  his  creed,  in  reference  to  all  public  obliga- 
tions involving  the  good  faith  and  integrity  of  his  country, 
was,  *'  run  a  moist  pen  slick  through  every  thing,  and  start 
fresh."  This  made  him  a  patriot.  In  commercial  affairs 
he  was  a  bold  speculator.  In  plainer  words,  he  had  a  most 
distinguished  genius  for  swindling,  and  could  start  a  bank, 
or  negotiate  a  loan,  or  form  a  land-jobbing  company  (entail- 
ing ruin,  pestilence,  and  death,  on  hundreds  of  families), 
with  any  gifted  creature  in  the  Union.  This  made  him  an 
admirable  man  of  business.  He  could  hang  about  a  bar- 
room, discussing  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  for  twelve  hours 
together;  and  in  that  time  could  hold  forthwith  more  intol- 
erable dullness,  chew  more  tobacco,  smoke  more  tobacco, 
drink  more  rum-toddy,  mint-julep,  gin-sling,  and  cock-tail, 
than  any  private  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance.  This  made 
him  an  orator  and  a  man  of  the  people.  In  a  word,  the 
major  was  a  rising  character,  and  a  popular  character,  and 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  sent  by  the  popular  party  to  the 
state  house  of  ISTew  York,  if  not  in  the  end  to  Washington 
itself.  But  as  a  man's  private  prosperity  does  not  always 
keep  pace  with  his  patriotic  devotion  to  public  affairs;  and 
as  fraudulent  transactions  have  their  downs  as  well  as  ups; 
the  major  was  occasionally  under  a  cloud.  Hence,  just 
now,  Mrs.  Pawkins  kept  a  boarding-house,  and  Major  Paw- 
kins  rather  *'  loafed  "  his  time  away  than  otherwise. 

'*  You  have  come  to-visit  our  country,  sir,  at  a  season  of 
great  commercial  depression,"  said  the  major. 

"At  an  alarming  crisis,"  said  the  colonel. 

"At  a  period  of  unprecedented  stagnation,"  said  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson Brick. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  returned  Martin.  "  It's  not 
likely  to  last,  I  hope  ?  " 

Martin  knew  nothing  about  America,  or  he  would  have 
known  perfectly  well  that  if  its  individual  citizens,  to  a  man, 
are  to  be  believed,  it  always  /V  depressed,  and  always  is  stag- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  275 

nated,  and  always  is  at  an  alarming  crisis,  and  never  was 
otherwise;  though  as  a  body  they  are  ready  to  make  oath 
upon  the  evangelists  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  that  it 
is  the  most  thriving  and  prosperous  of  all  countries  on  the 
habitable  globe. 

"  It's  not  likely  to  last,  I  hope  ? "  said  Martin. 

"  Well!  "  returned  the  major,  "  I  expect  we  shall  get  along 
somehow,  and  come  right  in  the  end." 

"  We  are  an  elastic  country,"  said  the  Rowdy  Journal. 

"  We  are  a  young  lion,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 

"  We  have  revivifying  and  vigorous  principles  within  our- 
selves," observed  the  major.  "  Shall  we  drink  a  bitter  afore 
dinner,  colonel  ? " 

The  colonel  assenting  to  this  proposal  with  great  alacrity, 
Major  Pawkins  proposed  an  adjournment  to  a  neighboring 
bar-room,  which,  as  he  observed,  was  "  only  in  the  next 
block."  He  then  referred  Martin  to  Mrs.  Pawkins  for  all 
particulars  connected  with  the  rate  of  board  and  lodging,  and 
informed  him  that  he  would  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that 
lady  at  dinner,  which  would  soon  be  ready,  as  the  dinner 
hour  was  two  o'clock,  and  it  only  wanted  a  quarter  now. 
This  reminded  him  that  if  the  bitter  were  to  be  taken  at  all, 
there  was  no  time  to  lose  ;  so  he  walked  off  without  more 
ado,  and  left  them  to  follow  if  they  thought  proper. 

When  the  major  rose  from  his  rocking-chair  before  the 
stove  and  so  disturbed  the  hot  air  and  balmy  whiff  of  soup 
which  fanned  their  brows,  the  odor  of  stale  tobacco  became 
so  decidedly  prevalent  as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  its  proceed- 
ing mainly  from  that  gentleman's  attire.  Indeed,  as  Martin 
walked  behind  him  to  the  bar-room,  he  could  not  help  think- 
ing that  the  great  square  major,  in  his  listlessness  and  lan- 
guor, looked  very  much  like  a  stale  weed  himself  ;  such  as 
might  be  hoed  out  of  the  public  garden,  with  great  advan- 
tage to  the  decent  growth  of  that  preserve,  and  tossed  on 
some  congenial  dung-hill. 

They  encountered  more  weeds  in  the  bar-room,  some  of 
whom  (being  thirsty  souls  as  well  as  dirty)  were  pretty  stale  in 
one  sense,  and  pretty  fresh  in  another.  Among  them  was 
a  gentleman  who,  as  Martin  gathered  from  the  conversation 
that  took  place  over  the  bitter,  started  that  afternoon  for 
the  Far  West  on  a  six  months'  business  tour;  and  who,  as  his 
outfit  and  equipment  for  this  journey,  had  just  such  another 
shiny  hat  and  just  such  another  little  pale  valise,  as  had  com- 
posed the  luggage  of  the  gentleman  who  came  from  England 
in  The  Screw, 


276  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT. 

They  were  walking  back  very  leisurely,  Martin  arm-in- 
arm with  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  and  the  major  and  the  colonel 
side  by  side  before  them,  when,  as  they  came  within  a  house 
or  two  of  the  major's  residence,  they  heard  a  bell  ringing  vio- 
lently. The  instant  this  sound  struck  upon  their  ears,  the 
colonel  and  the  major  darted  off,  dashed  up  the  steps  and  in 
at  the  street-door  (which  stood  ajar)  like  lunatics  ;  while 
Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  detaching  his  arm  from  Martin's,  made 
a  precipitate  dive  in  the  same  direction,  and  vanished  also. 

"  Good  heaven  !  "  thought  Martin.  "The  premises  are 
on  fire  !     It  was  an  alarm-bell  !  " 

But  there  was  no  smoke  to  be  seen,  nor  any  flame,  nor  was 
there  any  smell  of  fire.  As  Martin  faltered  on  the  pavement, 
three  more  gentlemen,  with  horror  and  agitation 
depicted  in  their  faces,  came,  plunging  wildly  round 
the  street  corner;  jostled  each  other  on  the  steps;  strug- 
gled for  an  instant;  and  rushed  into  the  house,  in  a  confused 
heap  of  arms  and  legs.  Unable  to  bear  it  any  longer,  Martin 
followed.  Even  in  his  rapid  progress,  he  was  run  down,  thrust 
aside,  and  passed,  by  two  more  gentleman,  stark  mad,  as  it 
appeared,  with  fierce  excitement. 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  cried  Martin,  breathlessly,  to  a  negro, 
whom  he  encountered  in  the  passage. 

*'  In  a  eatin'  room,  sa.  '  Kernal,  sa,  him  kep  a  seat  'side 
himself,  sa." 

"  A  seat !  "  cried  Martin. 

'^  For  a  dinnar,  sa." 

Martin  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  burst  into  a 
hearty  laugh;  to  which  the  negro,  out  of  his  natural  good 
humor,  and  desire  to  please,  so  heartily  responded,  that  his 
teeth  shone  like  a  gleam  of  light.  "  You're  the  pleasantest 
fellow  I  have  seen  yet,"  said  Martin,  clapping  him  on  the 
back,  "  and  give  me  a  better  appetite  than  bitters." 

With  this  sentiment  he  walked  into  the  dining-room  and 
slipped  into  a  chair  next  the  colonel,  which  that  gentleman 
(by  this  time  nearly  through  his  dinner),  had  turned  down 
in  reserve  for  him,  with  its  back  against  the  table. 

It  was  a  numerous  company,  eighteen  or  twenty  perhaps. 
Of  these  some  five  or  six  were  ladies,  who  sat  wedged  together 
in  a  little  phalanx  by  themselves.  All  the  knives  and  forks 
were  working  away  at  a  rate  that  was  quite  alarming;  very 
few  words  were  spoken;  and  everybody  seemed  to  eat  his 
utmost  in  self-defense,  as  if  a  famine  were  expected  to  set  in 
before  breakfast  time  to-morrow  morning,  and  it  had  become 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  277 

high  time  to  assert  the  first  law  of  nature.  The  poultry, 
which  may  perhaps  be  considered  to  have  formed  the  staple 
of  the  entertainment — for  there  was  a  turkey  at  the  top, 
a  pair  of  ducks  at  the  bottom,  and  two  fowls  in  the  middle 
—disappeared  as  rapidly  as  if  every  bird  had  had  the  use  of 
its  wings,  and  had  flown  in  desperation  down  a  human  throat. 
The  oysters,  stewed  and  pickled,  leaped  from  their  capa- 
cious reservoirs,  and  slid  by  scores  into  the  mouths  of  the 
assembly.  The  sharpest  pickles  vanished,  whole  cucum- 
bers at  once,  like  sugar-plumbs,  and  no  man  winked  his  eye. 
Great  heaps  of  indigestible  matter  melted  away  as  ice  before 
the  sun.  It  was  a  solemn  and  an  awful  thing  to  see.  Dys- 
peptic individuals  bolted  their  food  in  wedges  ;  feeding  not 
themselves,  but  broods  of  nightmares,  who  were  continually 
standing  at  livery  within  them.  Spare  men,  with  lank  and 
rigid  cheeks,  came  out  unsatisfied  from  the  destruction  of 
heavy  dishes,  and  glared  with  watchful  eyes  upon  the  pas- 
try. What  Mrs.  Pawkins  felt  each  day  at  dinner-time  is 
hidden  from  all  human  knowledge.  But  she  had  one  com- 
fort.    It  was  very  soon  over. 

When  the  colonel  had  finished  his  dinner,  which  event 
took  place  while  Martin,  who  had  sent  his  plate  for  some 
turkey,  was  waiting  to  begin,  he  asked  him  what  he  thought 
of  the  boarders,  who  were  from  all  parts  of  the  Union,  and 
whether  he  would  like  to  know  any  particulars  concerning 
them. 

"  Pray,"  said  Martin,  **  who  was  that  sickly  little  girl 
opposite,  with  the  tight  round  eyes  ?  I  don't  see  any  body 
here,  who  looks  like  her  mother,  or  who  seems  to  have  charge 
of  her." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  matron  in  blue,  sir  ?  "  asked  the 
colonel,  with  emphasis.  ''  That  is  Mrs.  Jefferson  Brick, 
sir." 

*'  No,  no,"  said  Martin,  "  I  mean  the  little  girl,  like  a  doll  ; 
directly  opposite." 

''  Well,  sir  !  "  cried  the  colonel.  "  T/iai  is  Mrs.  Jeffer- 
son Brick." 

Martin  glanced  at  the  colonel's  face,  but  he  was  quite 
serious. 

"  Bless  my  soul  ;  I  suppose  there  will  be  a  young  Brick 
then,  one  of  these  days  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  There  are  two  young  Bricks  already,  sir,"  returned  the 
colonel. 

The  matron  looked   so  uncommonly  like  a  child,  herself, 


278  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

that  Martin  could  not  help  saying  as  much,  "  Yes,  sir," 
returned  the  colonel,  "  but  some  institutions  develop  human 
natur  ;  others  re — tard  it." 

"  Jefferson  Brick,"  he  observed  after  a  short  silence,  in 
commendation  of  his  correspondent,  "  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  men  in  our  country,  sir  !  " 

This  had  passed  almost  in  whisper,  for  the  distinguished 
gentleman  alluded  to,  sat  on  Martin's  other  hand. 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Brick,"  said  Martin  turning  to  him,  and  ask- 
ing a  question  more  for  conversation's  sake  than  from  any 
feeling  of  interest  in  its  subject,  "  who  is  that  " — he  was 
going  to  say  "  young  "  but  thought  it  prudent  to  eschew  the 
word — "  that  very  short  gentleman  yonder,  with  the  red 
nose  ?  " 

"  That  is  Pro — fessor  Mullit,  sir,"  replied  Jefferson. 

"  May  I  ask  what  he  is  professor  of  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Of  education,  sir,"  said  Jefferson  Brick. 

"  A  sort  of  schoolmaster,  possibly  ?  "  Martin  ventured  to 
observe. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  fine  moral  elements,  sir,  and  not  com- 
monly endowed,"  said  the  war  correspondent.  "  He  felt  it 
necessary,  at  the  last  election  for  president,  to  repudiate  and 
denounce  his  father,  who  voted  on  the  wrong  interest.  He 
has  since  written  some  powerful  pamphlets,  under  the  signa- 
ture of  '  Suturb,*  or  Brutus  reversed.  He  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  men  in  our  country,  sir." 

*'  There  seem  to  be  plenty  of  'em,"  thought  Martin,  "at 
any  rate." 

Pursuing  his  inquiries,  Martin  found  that  there  were  no 
fewer  than  four  majors  present,  two  colonels,  one  general 
and  a  captain,  so  that  he  could  not  help  thinking  how 
strongly  of^cered  the  America  militia  must  be  ;  and  wonder- 
ing very  much  whether  the  officers  commanded  each  other  ; 
or  if  they  did  not,  where  on  earth  the  privates  came  from. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  man  there  without  a  title  ;  for  those 
who  had  not  attained  to  military  honors  were  either  doctors, 
professors,  or  reverends.  Three  very  hard  and  disagreeable 
gentlemen  were  on  missions  from  neighboring  states  ;  one 
on  monetary  affairs,  one  on  political,  one  on  sectarian. 
Among  the  ladies,  there  were  Mrs.  Pawkins,  who  was  very 
straight,  bony,  and  silent  ;  and  a  wiry-faced  old  damsel, 
who  held  strong  sentiments  touching  the  rights  of  women, 
and  had  diffused  the  same  in  lectures  ;  but  the  rest  were 
strangely  devoid  of  individual  traits  of  character,  insomuch 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  279 

that  any  one  of  them  might  have  changed  minds  with  the 
other,  and  nobody  would  have  found  it  out.  These,  by  the 
way,  were  the  only  members  of  the  party  who  did  not 
appear  to  be  among  the  most  remarkable  people  in  the 
country. 

Several  of  the  gentlemen  got  up,  one  by  one,  and  walked 
off  as  they  swallowed  their  last  morsel;  pausing  generally 
by  the  stove  for  a  minute  or  so  to  refresh  themselves  at  the 
brass  spittoons.  A  few  sedentary  characters,  however, 
remained  at  the  table  full  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  did  not 
rise  until  the  ladies  rose,  when  all  stood  up. 

"  Where  are  they  going  ? "  asked  Martin,  in  the  ear  of 
Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 

**  To  their  bed-rooms,  sir." 

"  Is  there  no  dessert,  or  other  interval  of  conversation  !  " 
asked  Martin,  who  was  disposed  to  enjoy  himself  after  his 
long  voyage. 

'*  We  are  a  busy  people  here,  sir,  and  have  no  time  for 
that,"  was  the  reply. 

So  the  ladies  passed  out  in  single  file  ;  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick 
and  such  other  married  gentlemen  as  were  left,  acknowledg- 
ing the  departure  of  their  other  halves  by  a  nod  ;  and  there 
was  an  end  of  them.  Martin  thought  this  an  uncomfortable 
custom,  but  he  kept  his  opinion  to  himself  for  the  present, 
being  anxious  to  hear,  and  inform  himself,  by  the  conver- 
sation of  the  busy  gentlemen,  who  now  lounged  about  the 
stove  as  if  a  great  weight  had  been  taken  off  their  minds  by 
the  withdrawal  of  the  other  sex  ;  and  who  made  a  plentiful 
use  of  the  spittoons  and  their  toothpicks. 

It  was  rather  barren  of  interest,  to  say  the  truth  ;  and  the 
greater  part  of  it  may  be  summed  up  in  one  word.  Dollars. 
All  their  cares,  hopes,  joys,  affections,  virtues,  and  associa- 
tions, seemed  to  be  melted  down  into  dollars.  Whatever 
the  chance  contributions  that  fell  into  the  slow  caldron  of 
their  talk,  they  made  the  gruel  thick  and  slab  with  dollars. 
Men  were  weighed  by  their  dollars,  measures  gauged  by 
their  dollars  ;  life  was  auctioneered,  appraised,  put  up,  and 
knocked  down  for  its  dollars.  The  next  respectable  thing 
to  dollars  was  any  venture  having  their  attainment  for  its 
end.  The  more  of  that  worthless  ballast,  honor  and  fair 
dealing,  which  any  man  cast  overboard  from  the  ship  of  his 
good  name  and  good  intent,  the  more  ample  stowage-room 
he  had  for  dollars.  Make  commerce  one  huge  lie  and 
mighty  theft.     Deface  the  banner  of  the  nation  for  an  idle 


28o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

rag  ;  pollute  it  star  by  star  ;  and  cut  out  stripe  by  stripe  as 
from  the  arm  of  a  degraded  soldier.  Do  any  thing  for  dol- 
lars !  What  is  a  flag  to  the7n  ! 

One  who  rides  at  all  hazards  of  limb  and  life  in  the  chase 
of  a  fox,  will  prefer  to  ride  recklessly  at  most  times.  So  it 
was  with  these  gentlemen.  He  was  the  greatest  patriot,  in 
their  eyes,  who  brawled  the  loudest,  and  who  cared  the  least 
for  decency.  He  was  their  champion,  who  in  the  brutal 
fury  of  his  own  pursuit,  could  cast  no  stigma  upon  them, 
for  the  hot  knavery  of  theirs.  Thus,  Martin  learning  in  the 
five  minutes*  straggling  talk  about  the  stove,  that  to  carry 
pistols  into  legislative  assemblies,  and  swords  in  sticks,  and 
other  such  peaceful  toys  ;  to  seize  opponents  by  the  throat, 
as  dogs  or  rats  might  do  ;  to  bluster,  bully,  and  overbear  by 
personal  assailment  ;  were  glowing  deeds.  Not  thrusts  and 
stabs  at  freedom,  striking  far  deeper  into  her  house  of  life 
than  any  sultan's  cimeter  could  reach  ;  but  rare  incense 
on  her  altars,  having  a  grateful  scent  in  patriotic  nostrils, 
and  curling  upward  to  the  seventh  heaven  of  fame. 

Once  or  twicj,  when  there  was  a  pause,  Martin  asked  such 
questions  as  naturally  occurred  to  him,  being  a  stranger, 
about  the  national  poets,  the  theater,  literature,  and  the  arts. 
But  the  information  which  these  gentlemen  were  in  a  con- 
dition to  give  him  on  such  topics,  did  not  extend  beyond  the 
effusions  of  such  master-spirits  of  the  time,  as  Colonel 
Diver,  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  and  others,  renowned,  as  it 
appeared,  for  excellence  in  the  achievement  of  a  peculiar 
style  of  broadside-essay  called  "  a  screamer." 

"  We  are  a  busy  people,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  captains,  who 
was  from  the  West,  "  and  have  no  time  for  reading  mere 
notions.  We  don't  mind  'em  if  they  come  to  us  in  ncAvs- 
papers  along  with  almighty  strong  stuff  of  another  sort,  but 
darn  your  books." 

Here  the  general,  who  appeared  to  grow  quite  faint  at 
the  bare  thought  of  reading  any  thing  which  was  neither 
mercantile  nor  political,  and  was  not  in  a  newspaper, 
inquired  '*  if  any  gentleman  would  drink  some  ?"  Most  of 
the  company,  considering  this  a  very  choice  and  seasonable 
idea,  lounged  out,  one  by  one,  to  the  bar-room  in  the  next 
block.  Thence  they  probably  went  to  their  stores  and 
counting-houses ;  thence  to  the  bar-room  again,  to  talk 
once  more  of  dollars,  and  enlarge  their  minds  with  the 
perusal  and  discussion  of  screamers  ;  and  thence  each  man 
to  snore  in  the  bosom  of  his  own  family. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  281 

"  Which  would  seem,"  said  Martin,  pursuing  the  current 
of  his  own  thoughts,  "  to  be  the  principal  recreation  they 
enjoy  in  common."  With  that,  he  fell  a-musing  again  on 
dollars,  demagogues,  and  bar-rooms  ;  debating  within  him- 
self whether  busy  people  of  this  class  were  really  as  busy  as 
they  claimed  to  be,  or  only  had  an  inaptitude  for  social  and 
domestic  pleasure. 

It  was  a  difficult  question  to  solve  ;  and  the  mere  fact  of 
its  being  strongly  presented  to  his  mind  by  all  that  he  had 
seen  and  heard,  was  not  encouraging.  He  sat  down  at  the 
deserted  board,  and  becoming  more  and  more  despondent, 
as  he  thought  of  all  the  uncertainties  and  difficulties  of  his 
precarious  situation,  sighed  heavily. 

Now,  there  had  been  at  the  dinner  table  a  middle-aged 
man  with  a  dark  eye  and  asunburned  face,  who  had  attracted 
Martin's  attention  by  having  something  very  engaging  and 
honest  in  the  expression  of  his  features  ;  but  of  whom  he 
could  learn  nothing  from  either  of  his  neighbors,  who  seemed 
to  consider  him  quite  beneath  their  notice.  He  had  taken 
no  part  in  the  conversation  round  the  stove,  nor  had  he 
gone  forth  with  the  rest;  and  now,  when  he  heard  Martin  sigh 
for  the  third  or  fourth  time,  he  interposed  with  some  casual 
remark,  as  if  he  desired,  without  obtruding  himself  upon  a 
stranger's  notice,  to  engage  him  in  cheerful  conversation  if  he 
could.  His  motive  was  so  obvious,  and  yet  so  delicately 
expressed,  that  Martin  felt  really  grateful  to  him,  and  showed 
him  so,  in  the  manner  of  his  reply. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you,"  said  this  gentleman  with  a  smile,  as 
he  rose  and  moved  toward  him,  ''  how  you  like  my  country, 
for  I  can  quite  anticipate  your  feeling  on  that  point.  But,  as 
I  am  an  American,  and  consequently  bound  to  begin  with  a 
question,  I'll  ask  you  how  you  like  the  colonel  ? " 

"  You  are  so  very  frank,"  returned  Martin,  "  that  I  have 
no  hesitation  in  saying  I  don't  like  him  at  all.  Though  I  must 
add  that  I  am  beholden  to  him  for  his  civility  in  bringing  me 
here — and  arranging  for  my  stay,  on  pretty  reasonal^le  terms, 
by  the  way,"  he  added — remembering  that  the  colonel  had 
whispered  him  to  that  effect,  before  going  out. 

"  Not  much  beholden,"  said  the  stranger  dryly.  "  The 
colonel  occasionally  boards  packet-ships  I  have  heard  to  glean 
the  latest  information  for  his  journal  ;  and  he  occasionally 
brings  strangers  to  board  here,  I  believe,  with  a  view  to  the 
little  percentage  which  attaches  to  those  good  offices  ;  and 
which  the  hostess  deducts   from   his  weekly  bill.     I  don't 


282  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

offend  you,   I  hope?"  he  added,  seeing  that  Martin  red- 
dened. 

'*  My  dear  sir,"  returned  Martin  as  they  shook  hands, 
*'  how  is  that  possible  !  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I — am — " 

"  Yes  ?  "  said  the  gentleman,  sitting  down  beside  him. 

*'  I  am  rather  at  a  loss,  since  I  must  speak  plainly,"  said 
Martin,  getting  the  better  of  his  hesitation,  "  to  know  how 
this  colonel  escapes  being  beaten." 

*'  Well  !  He  has  been  beaten  once  or  twice,"  remarked 
the  gentleman  quietly.  ''  He  is  one  of  a  class  of  men,  in 
whom  our  own  Franklin  so  lang  ago  as  ten  years  before  the 
close  of  the  last  century,  foresaw  our  danger  and  disgrace. 
Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  Franklin,  in  very  severe  terms, 
published  his  opinion  that  those  who  were  slandered  by  such 
fellows  as  this  colonel,  having  no  sufficient  remedy  in  the 
administration  of  this  country's  laws  or  in  the  decent  and 
right-minded  feeling  of  its  people,  were  justified  in  retorting 
on  such  public  nuisances  by  means  of  a  stout  cudgel  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  that,"  said  Martin,  '*  but  I  am  very 
glad  to  know  it,  and  I  think  it  worthy  of  his  memory  ; 
especially" — here  he  hesitated  again. 

^'  Go  on,"  said  the  other,  smiling  as  if  he  knew  what  stuck 
in  Martin's  throat. 

"  Especially,"  pursued  Martin,  "  as  I  can  already  under- 
stand that  it  may  have  required  great  courage,  even  in  his 
time,  to  write  freely  on  any  question  which  was  not  a  party 
one  in  this  very  free  country." 

''  Some  courage  no  doubt,"  returned  his  new  friend.  "  Do 
you  think  it  would  require  any  to  do  so  now  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  think  it  would;  and  not  a  little,"  said  Martin. 

"  You  are  right.  So  very  right,  that  I  believe  no  satirist 
could  breathe  this  air.  If  another  Juvenal  or  Swift  could 
rise  among  us  to-morrow,  he  would  be  hunted  down.  If  you 
have  any  knowledge  of  our  literature,  and  can  give  me  the 
name  of  any  man,  American  born  and  bred,  who  has  anato- 
mized our  follies  as  a  people,  and  not  as  this  or  that  party; 
and  who  has  escaped  the  foulest  and  most  brutal  slander,  the 
most  inveterate  hatred  and  intolerant  pursuit ;  it  will  be  a 
strange  name  in  my  ears,  believe  me.  In  some  cases  I  could 
name  to  you,  where  a  native  writer  has  ventured  on  the  most 
harmless  and  good-humored  illustrations  of  our  vices  or 
defects,  it  has  been  found  necessary  to  announce,  that  in  a 
second  edition  the  passage  has  been  expunged,  or  altered,  or 
explained  away,  or  patched  into  praise." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  283 

"And  how  has  this  been  brought  about?"  asked  Martin 
in  dismay. 

"  Think  of  what  you  have  seen  and  heard  to-day,  begin- 
ning with  the  colonel,"  said  his  friend,  ''and  ask  yourself. 
How  they  came  about  is  another  question.  Heaven  forbid 
that  they  should  be  samples  of  the  intelligence  and  virtue  of 
America,  but  they  come  uppermost,  and  in  great  num- 
bers too  and  too  often  represent  it.     Will  you  walk  !" 

There  was  a  cordial  candor  in  his  manner,  and  an  engaging 
confidence  that  it  would  not  be  abused;  a  manly  bearing  on 
his  own  part,  and  a  simple  reliance  on  the  manly  faith  of  a 
stranger,  which  Martin  had  never  seen  before.  He  linked 
his  arm  readily  in  that  of  the  American  gentleman,  and  they 
walked  out  together. 

It  was  perhaps  to  men  like  this,  his  new  companion,  that 
a  traveler  of  honored  name,  who  trod  those  shores  now 
nearly  forty  years  ago,  and  woke  upon  that  soil,  as  many 
have  done  since,  to  blots  and  stains  upon  its  high  preten- 
sions, which  in  the  brightness  of  his  distant  dreams  were 
lost  to  view,  appealed  in  these  words: 

"  Oh,  but  for  such,  Columbia's  days  were  done  ; 
Rank  without  ripeness,  quickened  without  sun, 
Ci"ude  at  the  surface,  rotten  at  the  core. 
Her  fruits  would  fall  before  her  spring  were  o'er  !'* 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

MARTIN  ENLARGES  HIS  CIRCLE  OF  ACQUAINTANCE  ;  INCREASES* 
HIS  STOCK  OF  WISDOM  ;  AND  HAS  AN  EXCELLENT  OPPOR- 
TUNITY OF  COMPARING  HIS  OWN  EXPERIENCE  WITH  THOSE 
OF  LUMMY  NED,  OF  THE  LIGHT  SALISBURY,  AS  RELATED  BY 
HIS  FRIEND,  MR.  WTLLIAM  SIMMONS. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Martin  that  all  this  while  he  had 
either  forgotten  Mark  Tapley  as  completely  as  if  there  had 
been  no  such  person  in  existence,  or  if  for  a  moment  the 
figure  of  that  gentleman  rose  before  his  mental  vision,  had 
dismissed  it  as  something  by  no  means  of  a  pressing  nature, 
which  might  be  attended  to  by  and  by,  and  could  wait  his 
perfect  leisure.  But,  being  now  in  the  streets  again,  it 
occurred  to  him  as  just  coming  within  the  bare  limits  of  pos- 
sibility that  Mr.  Tapley  might,  in  course  of  time,  grow  tired 
waiting  on  the  threshold  of  the  Rowdy  Journal  office,  so  he 


284  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

intimated  to  his  new  friend,  that  if  they  could  conveniently 
walk  in  that  direction,  he  would  be  glad  to  get  this  piece  of 
business  off  his  mind. 

^'  And  speaking  of  business,"  said  Martin,  *'  may  I  ask,  in 
order  that  I  may  not  be  behind-hand  with  questions  either, 
whether  your  occupation  holds  you  to  this  city,  or  like  myself, 
you  are  a  visitor  here  ?" 

"  A  visitor,"  replied  his  friend.  "  I  was  'raised'  in  the 
state  of  Massachusetts,  and  reside  there  still.  My  home  is 
in  a  quiet  country  town.  I  am  not  often  in  these  busy  places; 
and  my  inclination  to  visit  them  does  not  increase  with  our 
better  acquaintance,  I  assure  you." 

^'  You  have  been  abroad  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"Oh  yes." 

"  And,  like  most  people  who  travel,  have  become  more 
than  ever  attached  to  your  home  and  native  country,"  said 
Martin,  eying  him  curiously. 

"  To  my  home,  yes,"  rejoined  his  friend.  "To  my  native 
country  as  my  home — yes,  also." 

"You  imply  some  reservation,"  said  Martin. 

"  Well,"  returned  his  new  friend,  "  if  you  ask  me  whether 
I  came  back  here  with  a  greater  relish  for  my  country's  faults; 
with  a  greater  fondness  for  those  who  claim  (at  the  rate  of 
so  many  dollars  a  day),  to  be  her  friends;  with  a  cooler  indif- 
ference to  the  growth  of  principles  among  us  in  respect  of 
public  matters  and  of  private  dealings  between  man  and 
man,  the  advocacy  of  which,  beyond  the  foul  atmosphere  of 
a  criminal  trial,  would  disgrace  your  own  old  Bailey  lawyers; 
why,  then  I  answer  plainly,  No." 

"Oh  !  "  said  Martin;  in  so  exactly  the  same  key  as  his 
friend's  No,  that  it  sounded  like  an  echo. 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  his  companion  pursued,  "  whether  I 
came  back  here  better  satisfied  with  a  state  of  things  which 
broadly  divides  society  into  two  classes — whereof  one,  the 
great  mass,  asserts  a  spurious  independence,  most  miserably 
dependent  for  its  mean  existence  on  the  disregard  of  human- 
izing conventionalities  of  manner  and  social  custom,  so  that 
the  coarser  a  man  is,  the  more  distinctly  it  shall  appeal  to  his 
taste;  while  the  other,  disgusted  with  the  low  standard  thus 
set  up  and  made  adaptable  to  every  thing,  takes  refuge  among 
the  graces  and  refinements  it  can  bring  to  bear  on  private 
life,  and  leaves  the  public  weal  to  such  fortune  as  may  betide 
it  in  the  press  and  uproar  of  a  general  scramble — then  again 
I  answer,  No." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  285 

And  again  Martin  said  "Oh  !  "  in  the  same  odd  way  as 
before,  being  anxious  and  disconcerted;  not  so  much,  to  say 
the  truth,  on  pubHc  grounds,  as  with  reference  to  the  fading 
prospects  of  domestic  architecture. 

'*  In  a  word,"  resumed  the  other,  "I  do  not  find  and  can  not 
believe,  and  therefore  will  not  allow,  that  we  are  a  model  of 
wisdom,  and  an  example  to  the  world,  and  the  perfection  of 
human  reason,  and  a  great  deal  more  to  the  same  purpose, 
which  you  may  hear  any  hour  in  the  day  ;  simply  because 
we  began  our  political  life  with  two  inestimable  advantages." 

"What  were  they?"  asked  Martin. 

"  One,  that  our  history  commenced  at  so  late  a  period  as 
to  escape  the  ages  of  bloodshed  and  cruelty  through  which 
other  nations  have  passed  ;  and  so  had  all  the  light  of  their 
probation,  and  none  of  its  darkness.  The  other,  that  we 
have  a  vast  territory,  and  not — as  yet — too  many  people  on 
it.  These  facts  considered,  we  have  done  little  enough,  I 
think." 

"  Education  ? "  suggested  Martin,  faintly. 

"Pretty  well  on  that  head,"  said  the  other,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  "  still  no  mighty  matter  to  boast  of  ;  for  old  coun- 
tries, and  despotic  countries  too,  have  done  as  much,  if  not 
more,  and  made  less  noise  about  it.  We  shine  out  brightly 
in  comparison  with  England,  certainly  ;  but  hers  is  a  very 
extreme  case.  You  complimented  me  on  my  frankness,  you 
know,"  he  added  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  not  at  all  astonished  at  your  speaking  thus 
openly  when  my  country  is  in  question,"  returned  Martin. 
"  It  is  your  plain  speaking  in  reference  to  your  own  that  sur- 
prises me." 

"  You  will  not  find  it  a  scarce  quality  here,  I  assure  you, 
saving  among  the  Colonel  Divers,  and  Jefferson  Bricks,  and 
Major  Pawkinses  ;  though  the  best  of  us  are  something  like 
the  man  in  Goldsmith's  comedy,  who  wouldn't  suffer  any 
body  but  himself  to  abuse  his  master.  Come  !  "  he  added. 
"  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  You  have  come  here  on 
some  design  of  improving  your  fortune,  I  dare  say  ;  and  I 
should  grieve  to  put  you  out  of  heart.  I  am  some  years 
older  than  you,  besides  ;  and  may,  on  a  few  trivial  points, 
advise  you,  perhaps." 

There  was  not  the  least  curiosity  or  impertinence  in  the 
manner  of  this  offer,  which  was  open-hearted,  unaffected, 
and  good-natured.  As  it  was  next  to  impossible  that  he 
should  not  have  his  confidence  awakened  by  a  deportment 


286  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

so  prepossessing  and  kind,  Martin  plainly  stated  what  had 
brought  him  into  those  parts,  and  even  made  the  very  diffi- 
cult avowal  that  he  was  poor.  He  did  not  say  how  poor,  it 
must  be  admitted,  rather  throwing  off  the  declaration  with  an 
air  which  might  have  implied  that  he  had  money  enough  for 
six  months,  instead  of  as  many  weeks  ;  but  poor  he  said  he 
was,  and  grateful  he  said  he  would  be,  for  any  counsel  that 
his  friend  would  give  him. 

It  would  not  have  been  very  difficult  for  any  one  to  see, 
but  it  was  particularly  easy  for  Martin,  whose  perceptions 
were  sharpened  by  his  circumstances,  to  discern,  that  the 
stranger's  face  grew  infinitely  longer  as  the  domestic  archi- 
tecture project  was  developed.  Nor  although  he  made  a 
great  effort  to  be  as  encouraging  as  possible,  could  he  pre- 
vent his  head  from  shaking  once  involuntarily,  as  if  it  said 
in  the  vulgar  tongue,  upon  its  own  account,  "  No,  go  !  "  But 
he  spoke  in  a  cheerful  tone,  and  said,  that  although  there 
was  no  such  opening  as  Martin  wished,  in  that  city,  he  would 
make  it  matter  of  immediate  consideration  and  inquiry 
where  one  was  most  likely  to  exist  ;  and  then  he  made  Mar- 
tin acquainted  with  his  name,  which  was  Bevan  ;  and  with 
his  profession,  which  was  physic,  though  he  seldom  or  never 
practiced,  and  with  other  circumstances  connected  with  him- 
self and  family  which  fully  occupied  the  time,  until  they 
reached  the  Rowdy  Journal  office. 

Mr.  Tapley  appeared  to  be  taking  his  ease  on  the  land- 
ing of  the  first  floor  ;  for  sounds  as  of  some  gentleman  estab- 
lished in  that  region,  whistling  "  Rule  Britannia  "  with  all 
his  might  and  main,  greeted  their  ears  before  they  reached 
the  house.  On  ascending  the  spot  from  whence  this  music 
proceeded,  they  found  him  recumbent  in  the  midst  of  a 
fortification  of  luggage,  apparently  performing  his  national 
anthem  for  the  gratification  of  a  gray-haired  black  man, 
who  sat  on  one  of  the  outworks  (a  portmanteau),  staring 
intently  at  Mark,  while  Mark,  with  his  head  reclining  on  his 
hand,  returned  the  compliment  in  a  thoughtful  manner,  and 
whistled  all  the  time.  He  seemed  to  have  recently  dined,  for 
his  knife,  a  case-bottle,  and  certain  broken  meats  in  a  hand- 
kerchief, lay  near  at  hand.  He  had  employed  a  portion  of 
his  leisure  in  the  decoration  of  the  Rowdy  Journal  door, 
whereon  his  own  initials  now  appeared  in  letters  nearly  half 
a  foot  long,  together  with  the  day  of  the  month  in  smaller 
type,  the  whole  surrounded  by  an  ornamental  border,  and 
looking  very  fresh  and  bold. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  287 

**  I  was  a'most  afraid  you  was  lost,  sir  ! "  cried  Mark,  ris- 
ing, and  stopping  the  tune  at  that  point  where  Britons  gen- 
erally are  supposed  to  declare  (when  it  is  whistled)  that  they 
never,  never,  never. 

"Nothing  gone  wrong,  I  hope,  sir?" 

"  No,  Mark.     Where's  your  friend  ? " 

**  The  mad  woman,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Oh  !  she's 
all  right,  sir." 

"  Did  she  find  her  husband?  " 

**  Yes,  sir.  Leastways  she's  found  his  remains,"  said  Mark, 
correcting  himself. 

"  The  man's  not  dead,  I  hope? " 

"  Not  altogether  dead,  sir,"  returned  Mark;  "  but  he's  had 
more  fevers  and  agues  than  is  quite  reconcilable  with  being 
alive.  When  she  didn't  see  him  a-waiting  for  her,  I  thought 
she'd  hav^died  herself,  I  did!" 

"  Was  he  not  here,  then?" 

"  He  wasn't  here.  There  was  a  feeble  old  shadow  come 
a-creeping  down  at  last,  as  much  like  his  substance  when  she 
know'd  him,  as  your  shadow  when  it's  drawn  out  to  its  very 
finest  and  longest  by  the  sun,  is  like  you.  But  it  was.  his 
remains,  there's  no  doubt  about  that.  She  took  on  with  joy, 
poor  thing,  as  much  as  if  it  had  been  all  of  him!  " 

"  Had  he  bought  land?"  asked  ]\Ir.  Bevan. 

**  Ah!  He'd  bought  land,''  said  Mark,  shaking  his  head, 
"  and  paid  for  it,  too.  Every  sort  of  nateral  advantage  was 
connected  with  it,  the  agents  said;  and  there  certainly  was 
one^  quite  unlimited.     No  end  to  the  water!  " 

"  It's  a  thing  he  couldn't  have  done  without,  I  suppose," 
observed  Martin,  peevishly. 

'*  Certainly  not,  sir.  There  it  was,  any  way;  always  turned 
on,  and  no  water-rate.  Independent  of  three  or  four  slimy 
old  rivers  close  by,  it  varied  on  the  farm  from  four  to  six  foot 
deep  in  the  dry  season.  He  couldn't  say  how  deep  it  was  in 
the  rainy  time,  for  he  never  had  any  thing  long  enough  to 
sound  it  with." 

"  Is  this  true? "  asked  Martin  of  his  companion. 

"  Extremely  probable,"  he  answered.  '*  Some  Mississippi 
or  Missouri  lot,  I  dare  say." 

*'  However,"  pursued  Mark,  *'  he  came  from  I-don't-know- 
where-and-all,  down  to  New  York  here,  to  meet  his  wife  and 
children;  and  they  started  off  again  in  a  steamboat  this 
blessed  afternoon,  as  happy  to  be  along  with  each  other,  as 
if  they  were  going  to  heaven.     I   should   think  they   was, 


288  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

pretty  straight,  if  I  may  judge  from  the  poor  man's 
looks." 

"'  And  may  I  ask,"  said  Martin,  glancing,  but  not  with  any 
displeasure,  from  Mark  to  the  negro,  "  who  this  gentleman  is? 
Another  friend  of  yours?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  taking  him  aside,  and  speak- 
ing confidentially  in  his  ear,  *'  he's  a  man  of  color,  sir!  *' 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  blind  man,"  asked  Martin  some- 
what impatiently,  "  that  you  think  it  necessary  to  tell  me 
that,  when  his  face  is  the  blackest  that  ever  was  seen  ?" 

''  No,  no;  when  I  say  a  man  of  color,"  returned  Mark, 
"  I  mean  that  he's  been  one  of  them  as  there's  picters  of 
in  the  shops.  A  man  and  a  brother,  you  know,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Tapley,  favoring  his  master  with  a  significant  indica- 
tion of  the  figure  so  often  represented  in  tracts  and  cheap 
prints.  « 

''  A  slave!  "  cried  Martin,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Ah!  "  said  Mark  in  the  same  tone.  "  Nothing  else.  A 
slave.  Why,  when  that  there  man  was  young — don't  look 
at  him,  while  I'm  a-telling  it — he  was  shot  in  the  leg; 
gashed  in  the  arm;  scored  in  his  live  limbs,  like  crimped 
fish;  beaten  out  of  shape;  had  his  neck  galled  with  an  iron 
collar,  and  wore  iron  rings  upon  his  wrists  and  ankles.  The 
marks  are  on  him  to  this  day.  When  I  was  having  my  din- 
ner just  now,  he  stripped  off  his  coat  and  took  away  my 
appetite." 

"  Is  t/ii's  true? "  asked  Martin  of  his  friend,  who  stood 
beside  him. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  it,"  he  answered,  shaking  his 
head.     "  It  very  often  is." 

"  Bless  you,"  said  Mark,  *'  I  know  it  is,  from  hearing  his 
whole  story.  That  master  died;  so  did  his  second  master, 
from  having  his  head  cut  open  with  a  hatchet  by  another 
slave,  who,  when  he'd  done  it,  went  and  drowned  himself; 
then  he  got  a  better  one.  In  years  and  years  he  saved  up  a 
little  money,  and  bought  his  freedom,  which  he  got  pretty 
cheap  at  last,  on  account  of  his  strength  being  nearly  gone, 
and  he  being  ill.  Then  he  comes  here.  And  now  he's 
a-saving  up  to  treat  himself,  afore  he  dies,  to  one  small  pur- 
chase; it's  nothing  to  speak  of;  only  his  own  daughter;  that's 
all!  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  becoming  excited.  "Liberty  forever! 
Hurrah!    Hail,  Columbia!  " 

"  Hush!  "  cried  Martin,  clapping  his  hand  upon  his  mouth, 
*  and  don't  be  an  idiot.     What  is  he  doing  here?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  2S9 

"Waiting  to  take  our  luggage  off  upon  a  truck,"  said 
Mark.  "  He'd  have  come  for  it  by  and  by,  but  I  engaged 
him  for  a  very  reasonable  charge  (out  of  my  own  pocket) 
to  sit  along  with  me  and  make  me  jolly;  and  I  ayn  jolly; 
if  I  was  rich  enough  to  contract  with  him  to  wait  upon 
me  once  a  day,  to  be  looked  at,  I'd  never  be  any  thing  else." 

The  fact  may  cause  a  solemn  impeachment  of  Mark's  verac- 
ity, but  it  must  be  admitted,  nevertheless,  that  there  was 
that  in  his  face  and  manner  at  the  moment,  which  militated 
strongly  against  this  emphatic  declaration  of  his  state  of  mind. 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir,"  he  added,  "  they're  so  fond  of  liberty 
in  this  part  of  the  globe  that  they  buy  her  and  sell  her  and 
carry  her  to  market  with  'em.  They've  such  a  passion  for 
liberty  that  they  can't  help  taking  liberties  with  her.  That's 
what  it's  owing  to." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Martin,  wishing  to  change  the  theme. 
**  Having  come  to  that  conclusion,  Mark,  perhaps  you'll 
attend  to  me.  The  place  to  which  the  luggage  is  to  go  is 
printed  on  this  card.     Mrs.  Pawkins's  boarding-house." 

"  Mrs.  Pawkins's  boarding-house,"  repeated  Mark.  "  Now, 
Cicero." 

'*  Is  that  his  name  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"That's  his  nam.e,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.  And  the  negro 
grinning  assent  from  under  a  leathern  portmanteau,  than 
which  his  own  face  was  many  shades  deeper,  hobbled  down- 
stairs with  his  portion  of  their  worldly  goods,  Mark  Tapley 
having  already  gone  before  with  his  share. 

Martin  and  his  friend  followed  them  to  the  door  below, 
and  were  about  to  pursue  their  walk,  when  the  latter  stopped 
and  asked,  with  some  hesitation,  whether  that  young  man 
was  to  be  trusted  ? 

*'  Mark!     Oh,  certainly!  with  any  thing." 

"  You  don't  understand  me.  I  think  he  had  better  go 
with  us.  He  is  an  honest  fellow,  and  speaks  his  mind  so 
very  plainly." 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Martin,  smiling,  "  that  being  unac- 
customed to  a  free  republic,  he  is  used  to  do  so." 

"  I  think  he  had  better  go  wath  us,"  returned  the  other. 
''  He  may  get  into  some  trouble  otherwise.  This  is  not  a 
slave  state;  but  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  a  spirit  of  toler- 
ance is  not  so  common  anywhere  in  these  latitudes  as  the 
form.  We  are  not  remarkable  for  behaving  very  temper- 
ately to  each  other  when  we  differ;  but  to  strangers! — No,  I 
really  think  he  had  better  go  with  us." 


290  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Martin  called  to  him  immediately  to  be  of  their  party;  so 
Cicero  and  the  truck  went  one  way,  and  they  three  went 
another. 

They  walked  about  the  city  for  two  or  three  hours;  seeing 
it  from  the  best  points  of  view,  and  pausing  in  the  principal 
streets,  and  before  such  public  buildings  as  Mr.  Bevan 
pointed  out.  Night  then  coming  on  apace,  Martin  proposed 
that  they  should  adjourn  to  Mrs.  Pawkins's  establishment  for 
coffee;  but  in  this  he  was  overruled  by  his  new  acquaint- 
ance, who  seemed  to  have  set  his  heart  on  carrying  him, 
though  it  were  only  for  an  hour,  to  the  house  of  a  friend  of 
his  who  lived  hard  by.  Feeling  (however  disinclined  he 
was,  being  weary),  that  it  would  be  in  bad  taste,  and  not 
very  gracious,  to  object  that  he  was  unintroduced,  when  this 
open-hearted  gentleman  was  so  ready  to  be  his  sponsor.  Mar- " 
tin — for  once  in  his  life,  at  all  events — sacrificed  his  own  will 
and  pleasure  to  the  wishes  of  another,  and  consented  with  a 
fair  grace.  So,  traveling  had  done  him  that  much  good 
already. 

Mr.  Bevan  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  very  neat  house  of 
moderate  size,  from  the  parlor  windows  of  which  lights  were 
shining  brightly  into  the  now  dark  street.  It  was  quickly 
opened  by  a  man  with  such  a  thoroughly  Irish  face  that  it 
seemed  as  if  he  ought,  as  a  matter  of  right  and  principle,  to 
be  in  rags,  and  could  have  no  sort  of  business  to  be  looking 
cheerfully  at  any  body  out  of  a  whole  suit  of  clothes. 

Commending  Mark  to  the  care  of  this  phenomenon,  for 
such  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  in  Martin's  eyes,  Mr. 
Bevan  led  the  way  into  the  room  which  had  shed  its  cheer- 
fulness upon  the  street,  to  whose  occupants  he  introduced 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  as  a  gentleman  from  England, whose  acquaint- 
ance he  had  recently  had  the  pleasure  to  make.  They  gave 
him  welcome  in  all  courtesy  and  politeness;  and  in  less  than 
five  minutes'  time  he  found  himself  sitting  very  much  at  his 
ease  by  the  fireside,  and  becoming  vastly  well  acquainted 
with  the  whole  family. 

There  were  two  young  ladies — one  eighteen,  the  otlier 
twenty — both  very  slender,  but  very  pretty;  their  mother, 
who  looked,  as  Martin  thought,  much  older  and  more  faded 
than  she  ought  to  have  looked;  and  their  grandmother,  a 
little,  sharp-eyed,  quick  old  woman,  who  seemed  to  have  got 
past  that  stage,  and  to  have  come  all  right  again.  Besides 
these,  there  were  the  young  ladies'  father,  and  the  young 
ladies'  brother;  the  first  engaged  in  mercantile  affairs;  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  291 

second  a  student  at  college;  both  in  a  certain  cordiality  of 
manner,  like  his  old  friend,  and  not  unlike  him  in  face. 
Which  was  no  great  wonder,  for  it  soon  appeared  that  he 
was  their  near  relation.  Martin  could  not  help  tracing  the 
family  pedigree  from  the  two  young  ladies,  because  they 
were  foremost  in  his  thoughts;  not  only  from  being,  as  afore- 
said, very  pretty,  but  by  reason  of  their  wearing  miracu- 
lously small  shoes,  and  the  thinnest  possible  silk  stockings, 
the  which  their  rocking-chairs  developed  to  a  distracting 
extent. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  monstrous  comfortable 
circumstance  to  be  sitting  in  a  snug,  well-furnished  room, 
warmed  by  a  cheerful  fire,  and  full  of  various  pleasant 
decorations,  including  four  small  shoes,  and  the  like  amount 
of  silk  stockings,  and — yes,  why  not  ? — the  feet  and  legs 
therein  enshrined.  And  there  is  no  doubt  that  Martin  was 
monstrous  well-disposed  to  regard  his  position  in  that  light, 
after  his  recent  experience  of  The  Screw ^  and  of  Mrs.  Paw- 
kins's  boarding-house.  The  consequence  was,  that  he  made 
himself  very  agreeable  indeed  ;  and  by  the  time  the  tea  and 
coffee  arrived  (with  sv/eet  preserves,  and  cunning  tea-cakes 
in  its  train),  was  in  a  highly  genial  state,  and  much  esteemed 
by  the  whole  family. 

Another  delightful  circumstance  turned  up  before  the  first 
cup  of  tea  was  drunk.  The  whole  family  had  been  in  En- 
gland. There  was  a  pleasant  thing  !  But  Martin  was  not 
quite  so  glad  of  this,  when  he  found  that  they  knew  all  the 
great  dukes,  lords,  viscounts,  marquesses,  duchesses,  knights, 
and  baronets,  quite  affectionately,  and  were  beyond  every 
thing  interested  in  the  least  particular  concerning  them. 
However,  when  they  asked  after  the  wearer  of  this  or  that 
coronet,  and  said,  "  Was  he  quite  well  ?  "  Martin  answered, 
"  Yes,  oh  yes.  Never  better  ;  "  and  when  they  said,  '*  his 
lordship's  mother,  the  duchess,  was  she  much  changed  ?  " 
Martin  said,  "  Oh  dear  no,  they  would  know  her  anywhere, 
if  they  saw  her  to-morrow  ;  "  and  so  got  on  pretty  well.  In 
like  manner  when  the  young  ladies  questioned  him  touching 
the  gold  fish  in  that  Grecian  fountain  in  such  and  such  a 
nobleman's  conservatory,  and  whether  there  were  as  many 
as  there  used  to  be,  he  gravely  reported,  after  mature  con- 
sideration, that  there  must  be  at  least  twice  as  many  ;  and 
as  to  the  exotics,  ''  Oh  !  well  !  it  was  of  no  use  talking  about 
tJiem  ;  they  must  be  seen  to  be  believed  ;  "  which  improved 
state  of  circumstances  reminded  the  family  ot  che  splendor 


292  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

of  that  brilliant  festival  (comprehending  the  whole  British 
peerage  and  court  calendar),  to  which  they  were  specially 
invited,  and  which  indeed  had  been  partly  given  in  their 
honor  ;  and  recollections  of  what  Mr.  Norris  the  father  had 
said  to  the  marquess,  and  of  what  Mrs.  Norris  the  mother 
had  said  to  the  marchioness,  and  of  what  the  marquess  and 
marchioness  had  both  said,  when  they  said  that  upon  their 
words  and  honors  they  wished  Mr.  Norris  the  father  and 
Mrs.  Norris  the  mother,  and  the  Misses  Norris  the  daugh- 
ters, and  Mr.  Norris  Junior  the  son  would  only  take  up 
their  permanent  residence  in  England,  and  give  them  the 
pleasure  of  their  everlasting  friendship,  occupied  a  very  con- 
siderable time. 

Martin  thought  it  rather  strange,  and  in  some  sort  incon- 
sistent, that  during  the  whole  of  these  narrations,  and  in  the 
very  meridian  of  their  enjoyment  thereof,  both  Mr.  Norris 
the  father,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior  the  son  (who  corres- 
ponded, every  post,  with  four  members  of  the  English  peer- 
age), enlarged  upon  the  inestimable  advantage  of  having  no 
such  arbitrary  distinctions  in  that  enlightened  land,  where 
there  were  no  noblemen  but  nature's  noblemen,  and  where 
all  society  was  based  on  one  broad  level  of  brotherly  love 
and  natural  equality.  Indeed,  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  grad- 
ually expanding  into  an  oration  on  this  swelling  theme  was 
becoming  tedious,  when  Mr.  Bevan  diverted  his  thoughts, 
by  happening  to  make  some  casual  inquiry  relative  to  the 
occupier  of  the  next  house  ;  in  reply  to  which,  this  same 
Mr.  Norris  the  father,  observed,  that  *'  that  person  enter- 
tained religious  opinions  of  which  he  couldn't  approve  ;  and 
therefore  he  hadn't  the  honor  of  knowing  the  gentleman." 
Mrs.  Norris  the  mother  added  another  reason  of  her  own, 
the  same  in  effect,  but  varying  in  words  :  to  wit,  that  she 
believed  the  people  were  well  enough  in  their  way,  but  they 
were  not  genteel. 

Another  little  trait  came  out, which  impressed  itself  on  Mar- 
tin forcibly.  Mr.  Bevan  told  them  about  Mark  and  the  negro, 
and  then  it  appeared  that  all  the  Norrises  were  abolitionists. 
It  was  a  great  relief  to  hear  this,  and  Martin  was  so  much  en- 
couraged on  finding  himself  in  such  company,  that  he  ex- 
pressed his  sympathy  with  the  oppressed  and  wretched  blacks. 
Now,  one  of  the  young  ladies,  the  prettiest  and  most  delicate 
one,  was  mightily  amused  at  the  earnestness  with  which  he 
spoke  ;  and  on  his  craving  leave  to  ask  her  why,  was  quite 
unable  for  a  time  to  speak  for  laughing.     As  soon  however  as 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  293 

she  could,  she  told  him  that  the  negroes  were  such  a  funny- 
people  ;  so  excessively  ludicrous  in  their  manners  and  appear- 
ance ;  that  it  was  wholly  impossible  for  those  who  knew  them 
well,  to  associate  any  serious  ideas  with  such  a  very  absurd 
part  of  the  creation.  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  and  Mrs.  Norris 
the  mother,  and  Miss  Norris  the  sister,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior 
the  brother,  and  even  Mrs.  Norris  Senior  the  grandmother, 
were  all  of  this  opinion,  and  laid  it  down  as  an  absolute  mat- 
ter of  fact.  As  if  there  were  nothing  in  suffering  and  slav- 
ery, grim  enough  to  cast  a  solemn  air  on  any  human  ani- 
mal ;  though  it  were  as  ridiculous  physically,  as  the  most 
grotesque  of  apes,  or,  morally,  as  the  mildest  Nimrcd  among 
tuft-hunting  republicans. 

"  In  short,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  settling  the  ques- 
tion comfortably,  "  there  is  a  natural  antipathy  between  the 
races." 

"Extending,"  said  Martin's  friend,  in  a  low  voice,  "  to 
the  crudest  of  tortures,  and  the  bargain  and  sale  of  unborn 
generations." 

Mr.  Norris  the  son  said  nothing,  but  he  made  a  very  wry- 
face,  and  dusted  his  fingers  as  Hamlet  might  after  getting 
rid  of  Yorick's  skull  ;  just  as  though  he  had  that  moment 
touched  a  negro,  and  some  of  the  black  had  come  off  upon 
his  hands. 

In  order  that  their  talk  might  fall  again  into  its  former 
pleasant  channel,  Martin  dropped  the  subject,  with  a  shrewd 
suspicion  that  it  would  be  a  dangerous  theme  to  revive  under 
the  best  of  circumstances,  and  again  addressed  himself  to 
the  young  ladies,  who  were  very  gorgeously  attired  in  very- 
beautiful  colors,  and  had  every  article  of  dress  on  the  same 
extensive  scale  as  the  little  shoes  and  the  thin  silk  stockings. 
This  suggested  to  him  that  they  were  great  proficients  in  the 
French  fashions,  which  soon  turned  out  to  be  the  case,  for 
though  their  information  appeared  to  be  none  of  the  newest, 
it  was  very  extensive  ;  and  the  eldest  sister  in  particular, 
who  was  distinguished  by  a  talent  for  metaphysics,  the  laws 
of  hydraulic  pressure,  and  the  rights  of  human  kind,  had  a 
novel  way-  of  combining  these  acquirements  and  bringing 
them  to  bear  on  any  subject  from  millinery  to  the  millennium, 
both  inclusive,  which  was  at  once  improving  and  remarka- 
ble ;  so  much  so,  in  short,  that  it  was  usually  observed  to 
reduce  foreigners  to  a  state  of  temporary  insanity  in  five 
minutes. 

Martin  felt  his  reason  going  ;    and  as  a  means  of  saving 


294  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

himself,  besought  the  other  sister  (seeing  a  piano  in  the 
room)  to  sing.  With  this  request  she  wilHngly  complied  ; 
and  a  bravura  concert,  solely  sustained  by  the  Misses  Nor- 
ris,  presently  began.  They  sang  in  all  languages — except 
their  own.  German,  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  Portuguese, 
Swiss  ;  but  nothing  native — nothing  so  low  as  native.  For, 
in  this  respect,  languages  are  like  many  other  travelers — 
ordinary  and  common-place  enough  at  home,  but  specially 
genteel  abroad. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  in  course  of  time  the  Misses 
Norris  would  have  come  to  Hebrew,  if  they  had  not  been 
interrupted  by  an  announcement  from  the  Irishman,  who 
flinging  open  the  door,  cried  in  a  loud  voice  : 

''Jiniral  Fladdock  !" 

*'  My  !  "  cried  the  sisters,  desisting  suddenly.  *'  The  gen- 
eral come  back  !  " 

As  they  made  the  exclamation,  the  general,  attired  in  full 
uniform  for  a  ball,  came  darting  in  with  such  precipitancy, 
that,  hitching  his  boot  in  the  carpet,  and  getting  his  sword 
between  his  legs,  he  came  down  headlong,  and  presented  a 
curious  little  bald  place  on  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  eyes 
of  the  astonished  company.  Nor  was  this  the  worst  of  it  ; 
for  being  rather  corpulent  and  very  tight,  the  general,  being 
down,  could  not  get  up  again,  but  lay  the-re  writhing  and 
doing  such  things  with  his  boots,  as  there  is  no  other  instance 
of  in  military  history. 

Of  course  there  was  an  immediate  rush  to  his  assistance  ; 
and  the  general  was  promptly  raised.  But  his  uniform  was 
so  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,  that  he  came  up  stiff  and 
without  a  bend  in  him,  like  a  dead  clown,  and  had  no  com- 
mand whatever  of  himself  until  he  was  put  quite  flat  upon 
the  soles  of  his  feet,  when  he  became  animated  as  by  a  mir- 
acle, and  moving  edgewise  that  he  might  go  in  a  narrower 
compass  and  be  in  less  danger  of  fraying  the  gold  lace  on  his 
epaulettes  by  brushing  them  against  any  thing,  advanced  with 
a  smiling  visage  to  salute  the  lady  of  the  house. 

To  be  sure,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  family 
to  testify  purer  delight  and  joy  than  at  this  unlooked-for 
appearance  of  General  Fladdock  !  The  general  was  as 
warmly  received  as  if  New  York  had  been  in  a  state  of  siege 
and  no  other  general  was  to  be  got,  for  love  or  money.  He 
shook  hands  with  the  Norrises  three  times  all  round,  and 
then  reviewed  them  from  a  little  distance  as  a  brave  com- 
mander might,  with  his  ample  cloak  drtvwn  forward  over  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  295 

right  shoulder  and  thrown  back  upon  the  left  side  to  reveal 
his  manly  breast. 

"  And  do  I  then,"  cried  the  general,  "  once  again  behold 
the  choicest  spirits  of  my  country  !  " 

*' Yes,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father.  '*  Here  we  are,  gen- 
eral." 

Then  all  the  Norrises  pressed  round  the  general,  inquiring 
how  and  where  he  had  been  since  the  date  of  his  last  let- 
ter, and  how  he  had  enjoyed  himself  in  foreign  parts,  and 
particularly  and  above  all,  to  what  extent  he  had  become 
acquaintedwith  the  great  dukes,  lords,  viscounts,  marquesses, 
duchesses,  knights,  and  baronets,  in  whom  the  people  of  those 
benighted  countries  had  delight. 

'*  Well  then,  don't  ask  me,"  said  the  general,  holding  up 
his  hand.  ^'  I  was  among  'em  all  the  time,  and  have  got  pub- 
lic journals  in  my  trunk  with  my  name  printed  " — he  lowered 
his  voice  and  was  very  impressive  here — "  among  the  fash- 
ionable news.  But,  oh  the  conventionalities  of  that  a-maz- 
ing  Eu — rope!  " 

"  Ah!  "  cried  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  giving  his  head  a  mel- 
ancholy shake,  and  looking  toward  Martin  as  though  he  would 
say,  "  I  can't  deny  it,  sir;   I  would  if  I  could." 

"  The  limited  diffusion  of  amoral  sense  in  that  country!  " 
exclaimed  the  general.  "  The  absence  of  a  moral  dignity  in 
man!  " 

"Ah!  "sighed  all  the  Norrises,  quite  overwhelmed  with 
despondency. 

"  I  couldn't  have  realized  it,"  pursued  the  general, ''  with- 
out being  located  on  the  spot.  Norris,  your  imagination  is 
the  imagination  of  a  strong  man,  hut  jo//  couldn't  have  real- 
ized it,  without  being  located  on  the  spot!  " 

"  Never!  "  said  Mr.  Norris. 

"  The  ex-clusiveness,  the  pride,  the  form,  the  ceremony," 
exclaimed  the  general,  emphasizing  the  article  more  vigor- 
ously at  every  repetition.  "  The  artificial  barriers  set  up 
between  man  and  man;  the  division  of  the  human  race  into 
court  cards  and  plain  cards,  of  every  denomination — into 
clubs,  diamonds,  spades,  any  thing  but  hearts!  " 

"Ah!  "  cried  the  whole  family.     "  Too  true,  general!  " 

"  But  stay  !  "  cried  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  taking  him  by  the 
arm.     Surely  you  crossed  in  the  Screw,  general? " 

**  Well!  so  I  did,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Possible!  "  cried  the  young  ladies.     "  Only  think!  " 

The  general  seemed  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  his  having 


295  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

come  home  in  the  Screw  should  occasion  such  a  sensation, 
nor  did  he  seem  at  all  clearer  on  the  subject  when  Mr.  Nor- 
ris,  introducing  him  to  Martin,  said: 

"  A  fellow-passenger  of  yours,  I  think? " 

"  Of  mine?  "  exclaimed  the  general.     '*  No!  " 

He  had  never  seen  Martin,  but  Martin  had  seen  him,  and 
recognized  him,  now  that  they  stood  face  to  face,  as  the 
gentleman  who  had  stuck  his  hands  in  his  pockets  toward  the 
end  of  the  voyage,  and  walked  the  deck  with  nostrils  dilated. 

Every  body  looked  at  Martin.  There  was  no  help  for  it. 
The  truth  must  out. 

'*  I  came  over  in  the  same  ship  as  the  general,"  said 
Martin,  "  but  not  in  the  same  cabin.  It  being  necessary  for 
me  to  observe  strict  economy,  I  took  my  passage  in  the 
steerage." 

If  the  general  had  been  carried  up  bodily  to  a  loaded 
cannon,  and  required  to  let  it  off  that  moment,  he  could  not 
have  been  in  a  state  of  greater  consternation  than  when  he 
heard  these  words.  He  Fladdock,  Fladdock  in  full  militia 
uniform,  Fladdock  the  general,  Fladdock  the  caressed  of 
foreign  noblemen,  expected  to  know  a  fellow  who  had  come 
over  in  the  steerage  of  a  line-of-packet  ship,  at  the  cost  of 
four  pound  ten!  And  meeting  that  fellow  in  the  very  sanc- 
tuary of  New  York  fashion,  and  nestling  in  the  bosom  of  the 
New  York  aristocracy!  He  almost  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
sword. 

A  death-like  stillness  fell  upon  the  Norrises.  If  this  story 
should  get  wdnd,  their  country  relation  had,  by  his  impru- 
dence, forever  disgraced  them.  They  were  the  bright  par- 
ticular stars  of  an  exalted  New  York  sphere.  There  were 
other  fashionable  spheres  above  them,  and  other  fashionable 
spheres  below,  and  none  of  the  stars  in  any  one  of  these 
spheres  had  any  thing  to  say  to  the  stars  in  any  other  of  these 
spheres.  But  through  all  the  spheres  it  would  go  forth,  that 
the  Norrises,  deceived  by  gentlemanly  manners  and  appear- 
ances, had,  falling  from  their  high  estate,  "  received  "  a  dol- 
larless  and  unknown  man.  O  guardian  eagle  of  the  pure 
republic,  had  they  lived  for  this! 

"You  will  allow  me,"  snid  Martin,  after  a  terrible  silence, 
"  to  take  my  leave.  I  feel  that  I  am  the  cause  of  at  least  as 
much  embarrassment  here,  as  I  have  brought  upon  myself. 
But  I  am  bound,  before  I  go,  to  exonerate  this  gentleman, 
who,  in  introducing  me  to  such  society,  was  quite  ignorant 
of  my  unworthiness,  I  assure  you." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  297 

With  that  he  made  his  bow  to  the  Norrises,  and  walked  out 
like  a  man  of  snow — very  cool  externally,  but  pretty  hot 
within. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Xorris  the  father,  looking  with 
a  pale  face  on  the  assembled  circle  as  Martin  closed  the 
door,  "  the  young  man  has  this  night  beheld  a  refinement  of 
social  manner,  and  an  easy  magnificence  of  social  decoration, 
to  which  he  is  a  stranger  in  his  own  country.  Let  us  hope 
it  may  awake  a  moral  sense  within  him." 

If  that  peculiarly  transatlantic  article  a  moral  sense — for 
if  native  statesmen,  orators,  and  pamphleteers,  are  to  be 
believed,  America  quite  monopolizes  the  commodity; — if 
that  peculiarly  transatlantic  article  be  supposed  to  include  a 
benevolent  love  of  all  mankind,  certainly  Martin's  would 
have  borne,  just  then,  a  deal  of  waking.  As  he  strode  along 
the  street,  with  Mark  at  his  heels,  his  immoral  sense  was  in 
active  operation  ;  prompting  him  to  the  utterance  of  some 
rather  sanguinary  remarks,  which  it  was  well  for  his  own 
credit  that  nobody  overheard.  He  had  so  far  cooled  down, 
however,  that  he  had  begun  to  laugh  at  the  recollection  of 
these  incidents,  when  he  heard  another  step  behind  him, 
and  turning  round  encountered  his  friend  Bevan,  quite  out 
of  breath. 

He  drew  his  arm  through  Martin's,  and  entreating  him 
to  walk  slowly,  was  silent  for  some  minutes.  At  length  he 
said  : 

*'  I  hope  you  exonerate  me  in  another  sense  ?  * 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

''  I  hope  you  acquit  me  of  intending  or  foreseeing  the 
termination  of  our  visit.  But  I  scarcely  need  ask  you 
that." 

"  Scarcely  indeed,"  said  Martin.  "  I  am  the  more  beholden 
to  you  for  your  kindness,  when  I  find  what  kind  of  stuff  the 
good  citizens  here  are  made  of." 

"  I  reckon,"  his  friend  returned,  ''that  they  are  made  of 
pretty  much  the  same  stuff  as  other  folks,  if  they  would  but 
own  it,  and  not  set  up  on  false  pretenses." 

*'  In  good  faith,  that's  true,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  dare  say,"  resumed  his  friend,  "  you  might  have 
such  a  scene  as  that  in  an  English  comedy,  and  not  detect 
any  gross  improbability   or  anomaly  in  the  matter  of  it  ? " 

"  Yes  indeed  !  " 

"  Doubtless  it  is  more  ridiculous  here  than  anywhere 
^Ise,"  said  his    companion  ;    "  but    our   professions   are    to 


29S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

blame  for  that.  So  far  as  I  myself  am  concerned,  I  may  add 
that  I  was  perfectly  aware  from  the  first  that  you  came  over 
in  the  steerage,  for  I  had  seen  the  list  of  passengers  and 
knew  it  did  not  comprise  your  name." 

"  I  feel  more  obliged  to  you  than   before,"  said  Martin. 

*'  Norris  is  a  very  good  fellow  in  his  way,"  observed  Mr. 
Bevan. 

^'Ishe?"    said  Martin  dryly. 

"  Oh  yes  !  there  are  a  hundred  good  points  about  him.  If 
you  or  any  body  else  addressed  him  as  another  order  of  being, 
and  sued  to  him  in  Jonna  pauperis^  he  would  be  all  kindness 
and  consideration." 

"  I  needn't  have  traveled  three  thousand  miles  from 
home  to  find  such  a  character  as  tha/J'  said  Martin. 
Neither  he  nor  his  friend  said  any  thing  more  on  the  way 
back  ;  each  appearing  to  find  sufficient  occupation  in  his 
own  thoughts. 

The  tea,  or  the  supper,  or  whatever  else  they  called  the 
evening  meal,  was  over  when  they  reached  the  major's;  but 
the  cloth,  ornamented  with  a  few  additional  smears  and 
stains,  was  still  upon  the  table.  At  one  end  of  the  board 
Mrs.  Jefferson  Brick  and  two  other  ladies  were  drinking  tea; 
out  of  the  ordinary  course,  evidently,  for  they  were  bonneted 
and  shawled,  and  seemed  to  have  just  come  home.  By  the 
light  of  three  flaring  candles  of  different  lengths,  in  as  many 
candlesticks  of  different  patterns,  the  room  showed  to  almost 
as  little  advantage  as  in  broad  day. 

These  ladies  were  all  three  talking  in  a  very  loud 
tone  when  Martin  and  his  friend  entered  ;  but  seeing 
those  gentleman,  they  stopped  directly,  and  became  exces- 
sively genteel,  not  to  say  frosty.  As  they  went  on  to  exchange 
some  few  remarks  in  whispers,  the  very  water  in  the  tea-pot 
might  have  fallen  twenty  degrees  in  temperature  beneath 
their  chilling  coldness. 

*'  Have  you  been  to  meeting,  Mrs.  Brick  ?  "  asked 
Martin's  friend,  with  something  of  a  roguish  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

*'  To  lecture,  sir." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  forgot.  You  don't  go  to  meeting 
I  think?" 

Here  the  lady  on  the  right  of  Mrs.  Brick  gave  a  pious 
cough,  as  much  as  to  say  "/  do  !  "  As,  indeed,  she  did, 
nearly  every  night  in  the  week. 

"A  good  discourse,  ma'am?  "  asked  Mr.  Bevan,  address- 
ing this  lady. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  299 

The  lady  raised  her  eyes  in  a  pious  manner,  and  answered 
"  Yes."  She  had  been  much  comforted  by  some  good, 
strong,  peppery  doctrine,  which  satisfactorily  disposed  of  all 
her  friends  and  acquaintances,  and  quite  settled  their  busi- 
ness. Her  bonnet,  too,  had  far  outshone  every  bonnet  in 
the  congregation  ;  so  she  was  trancjuil  on  all  accounts. 

"  What  course  of  lectures  are  you  attending  now,  ma'am  ?  " 
said  Martin's  friend,  turning  again  to  Mrs.  Brick. 

"  The  philosophy  of  the  soul,  on  Wednesdays." 

"On  Mondays?" 

*'  The  philosophy  of  crime." 

"  On  Fridays  ?  " 

"  The  philosophy  of  vegetables." 

"  You  have  forgotten  Thursdays;  the  philosophy  of  gov- 
ernment, my  dear,"  observed  the  third  lady. 

"•  No,"  said  Mrs.  Brick.  "  That's  Tuesdays." 

"  So  it  is!  "  cried  the  lady.  "  The  philosophy  of  matter 
on  Thursdays,  of  course." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  our  ladies  are  fully  employed," 
said  Bevan. 

"  Indeed  you  have  reason  to  say  so,"  answered  Martin. 
"  Between  these  very  grave  pursuits  abroad,  and  family 
duties  at  home,  their  time  must  be  pretty  well  engrossed." 

Martin  stopped  here,  for  he  saw  that  the  ladies  regarded 
him  with  no  very  great  favor,  though  what  he  had  done  to 
deserve  the  disdainful  expression  which  appeared  in  their 
faces  he  was  at  a  loss  to  divine.  But  on  their  going  up- 
stairs to  their  bed-rooms — which  they  very  soon  did — Mr. 
Bevan  informed  him  that  domestic  drudgery  was  far  beneath 
the  exalted  range  of  these  philosophers,  and  that  the 
chances  were  a  hundred  to  one  that  neither  of  the  three 
could  perform  the  easiest  woman's  work  for  herself,  or 
make  the  simplest  article  of  dress  for  any  of  her  children. 

"  Though  whether  they  might  not  be  better  employed  with 
even  such  blunt  instruments  as  knitting-needles,  than  with 
these  edge-tools,"  he  said,  "is  another  question;  but  I  can 
answer  for  one  thing:  they  don't  often  cut  themselves. 
Devotions  and  lectures  are  our  balls  and  concerts.  They 
go  to  these  places  of  resort,  as  an  escape  from  monotony; 
look  at  each  other's  clothes;  and  come  home  again." 

"  When  you  say  '  home,'  do  you  mean  a  house  like  this?  *' 

"  Very  often.  But  I  see  you  are  tired  to  death,  and  will 
wish  you  good-night.  We  will  discuss  your  projects  in  the 
morning.     You  can  not  but  fee-l   already  that  it  is  useless 


300  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

staying  here,  with  any   hope   of  advancing  them.     You  will 
have  to  go  further." 

''  And  to  fare  worse? "  said  Martin,  pursuing  the  old 
adage. 

*'  Well,  I  hope  not.  But  sufficient  for  the  day,  you  know. 
Good-night." 

They  shook  hands  heartily  and  separated.  As  soon  as 
Martin  was  left  alone,  the  excitement  of  novelty  and  change 
which  had  sustained  him  through  all  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
departed;  and  he  felt  so  thoroughly  dejected  and  worn  out 
that  he  even  lacked  the  energy  to  crawl  up-stairs  to  bed. 

In  twelve  or  fifteen  hours  how  great  a  change  had  fallen 
on  his  hopes  and  sanguine  plans!  New  and  strange  as  he 
was  to  the  ground  on  which  he  stood,  and  to  the  air  he 
.breathed,  he  could  not — recalling  all  that  he  had  crowded 
into  that  one  day — but  entertain  a  strong  misgiving  that  his 
enterprise  was  doomed.  Rash  and  ill-considered  as  it  had 
often  looked  on  shipboard,  but  had  never  seemed  on  shore, 
it  wore  a  dismal  aspect,  now,  that  frightened  him.  What- 
ever thoughts  he  called  up  to  his  aid,  they  came  upon  him 
in  depressing  and  discouraging  shapes,  and  gave  him  no 
relief.  Even  the  diamonds  on  his  finger  sparkled  with  the 
brightness  of  tears,  and  had  no  ray  of  hope  in  all  their  bril- 
liant luster. 

He  continued  to  sit  in  gloomy  rumination  by  the  stove, 
unmindful  of  the  boarders  who  dropped  in  one  by  one  from 
their  stores  and  counting-houses,  or  the  neighboring  bar- 
rooms, and  after  taking  long  pulls  from  a  great  white  water- 
jug  upon  the  sideboard,  and  lingering  with  a  kind  of  hideous 
fascination  near  the  brass  spittoons,  lounged  heavily  to  bed; 
until  at  length  Mark  Tapley  came  and  shook  him  by  the 
arm,  supposing  him  asleep. 

''  Mark!  "  he  cried,  starting. 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  that  cheerful  follower,  snuffing  with 
his  fingers  the  candle  he  bore.  "  It  ain't  a  very  large 
bed,  your'n,  sir;  and  a  man  as  wasn't  thirsty  might  drink, 
afore  breakfast,  all  the  water  you've  got  to  wash  in,  and 
afterward  eat  the  towil.  But  you'll  sleep  without  rocking 
to-night,  sir." 

"  I  feel  as  if  the  house  were  on  the  sea,"  said  Martin, 
staggering  when  he  rose;  ''and  am  utterly  wretched." 

"  I'm  as  jolly  as  a  sandboy,  myself,  sir,"  said  Mark. 
"  But,  Lord,  I  have  reason  to  be!  I  ought  to  have  been 
born  here;  that's  my  opinion.     Take  care  how  you  go,"  for 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  301 

tLey  were  now  ascending  the  stairs.  "  You  recollect  the 
gentleman  aboard  the  Screw  as  had  the  very  small  trunk, 
sir?  " 

"  The  valise?     Yes." 

"  Well,  sir,  there's  been  a  delivery  of  clean  clothes  from 
the  wash  to-night,  and  they're  put  outside  the  bed-room 
doors  here.  If  you  take  notice  as  we  go  up,  what  a  very 
few  shirts  there  are,  and  what  a  many  fronts,  you'll  penetrate 
the  mystery  of  his  packing." 

But  Martin  was  to©  weary  and  despondent  to  take  heed  of 
any  thing,  so  had  no  interest  in  this  discovery.  Mr.  Tapley, 
nothing  dashed  by  his  indifference,  conducted  him  to  the  top 
of  the  house,  and  into  the  bed-chamber  prepared  for  his 
reception,  which  was  a  very  little  narrow  room,  with  half  a 
window  in  it,  a  bedstead  like  a  chest  without  a  lid,  two 
chairs,  a  piece  of  carpet,  such  as  shoes  are  commonly  tried 
upon  at  a  ready-made  establishment  in  England;  a  little 
looking-glass  nailed  against  the  wall,  and  a  washing  table, 
with  a  jug  and  ewer  that  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a 
milk-pot  and  slop-basin. 

"  I  suppose  they  polish  themselves  with  a  dry  cloth  in  this 
country,"  said  Mark.  *'  They've  certainly  got  a  touch  of  the 
'phoby,  sir." 

"  I  wish  you  would  pull  off  my  boots  for  me,"  said  Martin, 
dropping  into  one  of  the  chairs.  *'  I  am  quite  knocked  up. 
Dead  beat,  Mark." 

"You  won't  say  that  to-morrow  morning,  sir,"  returned 
Mr.  Tapley;  "nor  even  to-night,  sir,  when  you've  made  a 
trial  of  this."  With  which  he  produced  a  very  large  tum<= 
bier,  piled  up  'to  the  brim  with  little  blocks  of  clear  trans- 
parent ice,  through  which  one  or  two  thin  slices  of  lemon, 
and  a  golden  liquid  of  delicious  appearance,  appealed  from 
the  still  depths  below,  to  the  loving  eye  of  the  spectator. 

"  What  do  you  call  this  ?  "said  Martin. 

But  Mr.  Tapley  made  no  answer,  merely  plunging  a  reed 
into  the  mixture — which  caused  a  pleasant  commotion  among 
the  pieces  of  ice — and  signifying  by  an  expressive  gesture 
that  it  was  to  be  pumped  up  through  that  agency  by  the 
enraptured  drinker. 

Martin  took  the  glass,  with  an  astonished  look,  applied 
his  lips  to  the  reed,  and  cast  up  his  eyes  once  in  ecstasy.  He 
paused  no  more  until  the  goblet  was  drained  to  the  last 
drop. 

"  There,  sir  I  "  said  Mark,  taking  it  from  him  with  a  tri- 


302  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

umphant  face  ;  "  if  ever  you  should  happen  to  be  dead  beat 
again,  when  I  ain't  in  the  way,  all  you've  got  to  do  is,  to  ask 
the  nearest  man  to  go  and  fetch  a  cobbler." 

^'  To  go  and  fetch  a  cobbler  ?  "  repeated  Martin. 

This  wonderful  invention,  sir,"  said  Mark,  tenderly  patting 
the  empty  glass,  ''  is  called  a  cobbler.  Sherry  cobbler  when 
you  name  it  long;  cobbler,  when  you  name  it  short.  Now 
you're  equal  to  having  your  boots  took  off,  and  are,  in  every 
particular  v/orth  mentioning,  another  man." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this»  solemn  preface,  he 
brought  the  boot-jack. 

"Mind  !  I  am  not  going  to  relapse,  Mark,"  said  Martin; 
"but,  good  heaven,  if  we  should  be  left  in  some  wild  part  of 
this  country  without  goods  or  money  !  " 

"  Well,  sir !  "  replied  the  imperturbable  Tapley;  "from 
what  we've  seen  already,  I  don't  know  whether,  under  those 
circumstances,  we  shouldn't  do  better  in  the  wild  parts  than 
in  the  tame  ones." 

"Oh,  Tom  Pinch,  Tom  Pinch!"  said  Martin,  in  a 
thoughtful  tone;  "  what  would  I  give  to  be  again  beside  you, 
and  able  to  hear  your  voice,  though  it  were  even  in  the  old 
bed-room  at  Pecksniff's  !  " 

"  Oh,  Dragon,  Dragon  !  "  echoed  Mark,  cheerfully,  "  if 
there  warn't  any  water  between  you  and  me,  and  nothing 
faint-hearted-like  in  going  back,  I  don't  know  that  I 
mightn't  say  the  same.  But  here  am  I,  Dragon,  in  New 
York,  America;  and  there  are  you  in  Wiltshire,  Europe;  and 
there's  a  fortune  to  make.  Dragon,  and  a  beautiful  young 
lady  to  make  it  for;  and  whenever  you  go  to  see  the  monu- 
ment. Dragon,  you  mustn't  give  in  on  the  doof-steps,  or  you'll 
never  get  up  to  the  top  !  " 

"  Wisely  said,  Mark,"  cried  Martin.  "  We  must  look 
forward."  , 

"  In  all  the  story-books  as  ever  I  read,  sir,  the  people  as 
looked  backward  was  turned  into  stones,"  replied  Mark; 
"  and  my  opinion  always  was,  that  they  brought  it  on  them- 
selves, and  it  served  'em  right.  I  wish  you  good-night, 
sir,  and  pleasant  dreams  !  " 

"  They  must  be  of  home,  then,"  said  Martin,  as  he  lay 
down  in  bed. 

"  So  I  say,  too,"  whispered  Mark  Tapley,  when  he  was  out 
of  hearing  and  in  his  own  room;  "  for  if  there  don't  come 
a  time  afore  we're  well  out  of  this,  v/hen  there'll  be  a  little 
more  credit  in  keeping  up  one's  jollity,  I'm  a  United  States- 
man 1  ** 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  303 

Leaving  them  to  blend  and  mingle  in  their  sleep  the 
shadows  of  objects  afar  off,  as  they  take  fantastic  shapes 
upon  the  wall  in  the  dim  light  of  thought  without  control, 
be  it  the  part  of  this  slight  chronicle — a  dream  within  a 
dream — as  rapidly  to  change  the  scene,  and  cross  the  ocean 
to  the  English  shore. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DOES  BUSINESS  WllH  THE  HOUSE  OF  ANTHONY  CHUZZLEWIT 
AND  SON,  FROM  WHICH  ONE  OF  THE  PARTNERS  RETIRES 
UNEXPECTEDLY. 

Change  begets  change.  Nothing  propagates  so  fast.  If  a 
man  habituated  to  a  narrow  circle  of  cares  and  pleasures,  out 
of  which  he  seldom  travels,  step  beyond  it,  though  for  never 
so  brief  a  space,  his  departure  from  the  monotonous  scene 
on  which  he  has  been  an  actor  of  importance,  would  seem  to 
be  the  signal  for  instant  confusion.  As  if,  in  the  gap  he  had 
left,  the  wedge  of  change  were  driven  to  the  head,  rending 
what  was  a  solid  mass  to  fragments,  things  cemented  and 
held  together  by  the  usages  of  years,  burst  asunder  in  as 
many  weeks.  The  mine  which  time  has  slowly  dug  beneath 
familiar  objects,  is  sprung  in  an  instant  ;  and  what  was  rock 
before,  becomes  but  sand  and  dust. 

Most  men,  at  one  time  or  other,  have  proved  this  in  some 
degree.  The  extent  to  which  the  natural  laws  of  change 
asserted  their  supremacy  in  that  limited  sphere  of  action 
which  Martin  had  deserted,  shall  be  faithfully  set  down  in 
these  pages. 

"  What  a  cold  spring  it  is  !  "  w^himpered  old  Anthony, 
drawing  near  the  evening  fire.  *'  It  was  a  warmer  season, 
sure,  when  I  was  young  !  " 

"  You  needn't  go  scorching  your  clothes  into  holes, 
whether  it  was  or  not,"  observed  the  amiable  Jonas,  raising 
his  eyes  from  yesterday's  newspaper.  "  Broadcloth  ain't  so 
cheap  as  that  comes  to." 

'*  A  good  lad  !  "  cried  the  father,  breathing  on  his  cold 
hands,  and  feebly  chafing  them  against  each  other.  ''  A 
prudent  lad  !  He  never  delivered  himself  up  to  the  vanities 
of  dress.     No,  no  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  b.ut  I  w^ould  though,  mind  you,  if  I  could 
do  it  for  nothing,"  said  his  son,  as  he  resumed  the  paper. 


304  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Ah  !  "  chuckled  the  old  man.  *'//",  indeed  !  But  it's 
verv  cold." 

*  Let  the  fire  be  !  "  cried  Mr.  Jonas,  stopping  his  honored 
parent's  hand  in  the  use  of  the  poker.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
come  to  want  in  your  old  age,  that  you  take  to  wasting 
now  ? " 

"  There's  not  time  for  that,  Jonas,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Not  time  for  what  ?  "  bawled  his  heir. 

''  For  me  to  come  to  want.     I  wish  there  was  !  " 

"  You  always  were  as  selfish  an  old  blade  as  need  be," 
said  Jonas,  in  a  voice  too  low  for  him  to  hear,  and  looking  at 
him  with  an  angry  frown.  "  You  act  up  to  your  character. 
You  wouldn't  mind  coming  to  want,  wouldn't  you  !  I  dare 
say  you  wouldn't.  And  j^our  own  fl.esh  and  blood  might 
come  to  want  too,  might  they,  for  any  thing  you  cared  ?  Oh 
you  precious  old  flint  !  " 

After  this  dutiful  address  he  took  his  tea-cup  in  his 
hand  ;  for  that  meal  was  in  progress,  and  the  father  and  son 
and  Chuffey  were  partakers  of  it.  Then,  looking  stead- 
fastly at  his  father,  and  stopping  now  and  then  to  carry  a 
spoonful  of  tea  to  his  lips,  he  proceeded  in  the  same  tone, 
thus  : 

"  Want,  indeed  !  You're  a  nice  old  man  to  be  talking,  of 
want  at  this  time  of  day.  Beginning  to  talk  of  want,  are  you? 
Well,  I  declare  !  There  isn't  time  ?  No,  I  should  hope 
not.  But  you'd  live  to  be  a  couple  of  hundred  if  you  could; 
and  after  all  be  discontented.     /  know  you  !  " 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  still  sat  cowering  before  the  fire. 
Mr.  Jonas  shook  his  britannia-metal  teaspoon  at  him,  and 
taking  a  loftier  position  went  on  to  argue  the  point  on  high 
moral  grounds. 

"  If  you're  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  that,"  he  grumbled, 
but  in  the  same  subdued  key,  "  why  don't  you  make  over 
your  property  ?  Buy  an  annuity  cheap,  and  make  your  life 
interesting  to  yourself  and  every  body  else  that  watches  the 
speculation.  But  no,  that  wouldn't  suit  jou.  That  would 
be  natural  conduct  to  your  own  son,  and  you  like  to  be 
unnatural,  and  to  keep  him  out  of  his  rights.  Why,  I 
should  be  ashamed  of  myself  if  I  was  you,  and  glad  to  hide 
my  head  in  the  what  you  may  call  it.". 

Possibly  this  general  phrase  supplied  the  place  of  grave, 
or  tomb,  or  sepulcher,  or  cemetery,  or  mausoleum,  or  other 
such  word  which  the  filial  tenderness  of  Mr.  Jonas  made  him 
delicate  of  pronouncing.     H^  pursued  the  theme  no  further; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  305 

for  Chuffey,  somehow  discovering,  from  his  old  corner  by 
the  fireside,  that  Anthony  was  in  the  attitude  of  a  listener, 
and  that  Jonas  appeared  to  be  speaking,  suddenly  cried  out, 
like  one  inspired, 

"  He  is  your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Your  own  son, 
sir  !  " 

Old  Chuffey  little  suspected  what  depth  of  applica- 
tion these  words  had,  or  that,  in  the  bitter  satire  which  they 
bore,  they  might  have  sunk  into  the  old  man's  very  soul, 
could  he  have  known  what  words  were  hanging  on  his  own 
son's  lips,  or  what  passing  in  his  thoughts.  But  the  voice 
diverted  the  current  of  Anthony's  reflections,  and  roused  him. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Chuffey,  Jonas  is  a  chip  of  the  old  block.  It's 
a  very  old  block,  now,  Chuffey,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
strange  look  of  discomposure. 

**  Precious  old,"  assented  Jonas. 

*'  No,  no,  no,"  said  Chuffey.  "  No,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Not 
old  at  all,  sir." 

"  Oh  !  He's  worse  than  ever,  you  know  !  "  cried  Jonas, 
quite  disgusted.  "  Upon  my  soul,  father,  he's  getting  too 
bad.     Hold  your  tongue,  will  you  ?  " 

"  He  says  you're  wrong  !  "  cried  Anthony  to  the  old  clerk. 

'' Tut,  tut  !  "  was  Chuff ey's  answer.  "  I  know  better.  I 
say  he's  wrong.  I  say  hes  wrong.  He's  a  boy.  That's  what 
he  is.  So  are  you  Mr.  Chuzzlewit — a  kind  of  boy.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  ha  !  You're  quite  a  boy  to  many  I  have  known  ;  you're 
a  boy  to  me  ;  you're  a  boy  to  hundreds  of  us.  Don't  mind 
him  !  " 

With  which  extraordinary  speech — for  in  the  case  of 
Chuffey  this  was  a  burst  of  eloquence  without  a  parallel — 
the  poor  old  shadow  drew  through  his  palsied  arm  his  mas- 
ter's hand  and  held  it  there,  with  his  own  folded  upon  it,  as 
if  he  would  defend  him. 

''  I  grow  deafer  every  day.  Chuff,"  said  Anthony,  with  as 
much  softness  of  manner,  or,  to  describe  it  more  correctly, 
wath  as  little  hardness  as  he  was  capable  of  expressing. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Chuffey.  "■  No,  you  don't.  What  if  you 
did  ?     I've  been  deaf  these  twenty  year." 

*'  I  grow  blinder,  too,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  his  head. 

"  That's  a  good  sign,"  cried  Chuffey.  "  Ha  !  ha  !  The 
best  sign  in  the  world  !     You  saw  too  well  before." 

He  patted  Anthony  upon  the  hand  as  one  might  comfort 
a  child,  and  drawing  the  old  man's  arm  still  further  through 
his  own,  shook  his  trembling  fingers  toward  the  spot  where 


3O0  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWrr. 

Jonas  sat,  as  though  he  would  wave  him  off.  But,  Anthony 
remaining  quite  still  and  silent,  he  relaxed  his  hold  by  slow 
degrees  and  lapsed  into  his  usual  niche  in  the  corner,  merely 
putting  forth  his  hand  at  intervals  and  touching  his  old 
employer  gently  on  the  coat,  as  with  the  design  of  assuring 
himself  that  he  was  yet  beside  him, 

Mr.  Jonas  was  so  very  much  amazed  by  these  proceedings 
that  he  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  the  two  old  men  until 
Chuffey  had  fallen  into  his  usual  state,  and  Anthony  had 
sunk  into  a  doze  ;  when  he  gave  some  vent  to  his  emotions  by 
going  close  up  to  the  former  personage,  and  making  as 
though  he  would,  in  vulgar  parlance,  ''punch  his  head." 

*'  They've  been  carrying  on  this  game,"  thought  Jonas  in 
a  brown  study,  '*  for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks.  I  never 
saw  my  father  take  so  much  notice  of  him  as  he  has  in  that 
time.  What  !  You're  legacy  hunting  are  you,  Mister  Chuff  ? 
Eh?" 

But  Chuffey  was  as  little  conscious  of  the  thought  as  of 
the  bodily  advance  of  Mr.  Jonas's  clenched  fist,  which 
hovered  fondly  about  his  ear.  When  he  had  scowled  at  him 
to  his  heart's  content,  Jonas  took  the  candle  from  the  table, 
and  walking  into  the  glass  office,  produced  a  bunch  of  keys 
from  his  pocket.  With  one  of  these  he  opened  a  secret 
drawer  in  the  desk,  peeping  stealthily  out,  as  he  did  so,  to  be 
certain  that  the  two  old  men  were  still  before  the  fire. 

''All  as  right  as  ever,"  said  Joncts,  propping  the  lid  of  the 
desk  open  with  his  forehead,  and  unfolding  a  paper. 
"  Here's  the  will,  Mister  Chuff.  Thirty  pound  a  year  for 
your  maintenance,  old  boy,  and  all  the  rest  to  his  only  son, 
Jonas.  You  needn't  trouble  yourself  to  be  too  affectionate. 
You  won't  get  any  thing  by  it.     What's  that  ? " 

It  was  startling,  certainly.  A  face  on  the  other  side  of 
the  glass  partition  looking  curiously  in,  and  not  at  him  but  at 
the  paper  in  his  hand.  For  the  eyes  were  attentively  cast 
down  upon  the  writing,  and  were  swiftly  raised  when  he 
cried  out.  Then  they  met  his  own,  and  were  as  the  eyes  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Suffering  the  lid  of  the  desk  to  fall  with  a  loud  noise,  but 
not  forgetting  even  then  to  lock  it,  Jonas,  pale  and  breath- 
less, gazed  upon  this  phantom.  It  moved,  opened  the  door, 
and  walked  in. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  cried  Jonas,  falling  back.  "  Who 
is  it  ?     Where  do  you  come  from  ?     What  do  you  want  ? " 

"  Matter  !  "  cried  the  voice  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  Pecksniff 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  307 

in  the  flesh  smiled  amiably  upon  him.  "  The  matter,  Mr. 
Jonas  ? " 

"  What  are  you  prying  and  peering  about  here  for?"  said 
Jonas,  angrily.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  up  to  town  in 
this  way,  and  taking  one  unawares  ?  It's  precious  odd  a  man 
can't  read  the — the  newspaper — in  his  own  office  without 
being  startled  out  of  his  wits  by  people  coming  in  without 
notice.     Why  didn't  you  knock  at  the  door  ? " 

"So  I  did,  Mr.  Jonas,"  answered  Pecksniff,  "but  no  one 
heard  me.  I  was  curious,"  he  added  in  his  gentle  way  as 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder,  "  to  find 
out  what  part  of  the  newspaper  interested  you  so  much  ; 
but  the  glass  was  too  dim  and  dirty." 

Jonas  glanced  in  haste  at  the  partition.  Well.  It  wasn't 
very  clean.     So  far   he  spoke  the  truth. 

"  Was  it  poetry  now  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  the 
forefinger  of  his  right  hand  with  an  air  of  cheerful  banter. 
"  Or  was  it  politics  ?  Or  was  it  the  price  of  stocks  ?  The 
main  chance,  Mr.  Jonas,  the  main  chance,  I  suspect." 

"  You  ain't  far  from  the  truth,"  answered  Jonas,  recover- 
ing himself  and  snuffing  the  candle,  "but  how  the  deuce  do 
you  come  to  be  in  London  again  ?  Ecod  !  it's  enough  to 
make  a  man  stare,  to  see  a  fellow  looking  at  him  all  of  a 
sudden,  who  he  thought  was  sixty  or  seventy  mile  away." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  No  doubt  of  it,  my  dear 
Mr,  Jonas.  For  while  the  human  mind  is  constituted  as  it 
is—" 

"  Oh,  bother  the  human  mind,"  interrupted  Jonas  with 
impatience,  "  what  have  you  come  up  for  ?  " 

"A  little  matter  of  business,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "which 
has  arisen  quite  unexpectedly." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Jonas,  "  is  that  all  ?  Well.  Here's  father 
in  the  next  room.  Halloo,  father,  here's  Pecksniff !  He 
gets  more  addle-pated  every  day  he  lives,  I  do  believe," 
muttered  Jonas,  shaking  his  honored  parent  roundly. 
"  Don't  I  tell  you  Pecksniff's  here,  stupid  head  ? " 

The  combined  effects  of  the  shaking  and  this  loving 
remonstrance  soon  awoke  the  old  man,  who  gave  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff a  chuckling  welcome,  which  was  attributable  in  part  to 
his  being  glad  to  see  that  gentleman,  and  in  part  to  his 
unfading  delight  in  the  recollection  of  having  called  him  a 
hypocrite.  As  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  yet  taken  tea  (indeed 
he  had,  but  an  hour  before,  arrived  in  London),  the  remains 
of  the  late  collation,  with  a  rasher  of  bacon,  were  served  up 


3o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

for  his  entertainment  ;  and  as  Mr,  Jonas  had  a  business 
appointment  in  the  next  street,  he  stepped  out  to  keep  it  : 
promising  to  return  before  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  finish  his 
repast. 

*'  And  now,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  Anthony, 
"  now  that  we  are  alone,  pray  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you. 
I  say  alone,  because  I  believe  that  our  dear  friend  Mr.  Chuf- 
fey  is,  metaphysically  speaking,  a — shall  I  say  a  dummy  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  sweetest  smile,  and  his  head 
very  much  on  one  side. 

"  He  neither  hears  us,"  replied  Anthony,  "  nor    sees  us." 

''Why,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''  I  will  be  bold  to  say, 
with  the  utmost  sympathy  for  his  afflictions,  and  the  greatest 
admiration  of  those  excellent  qualities  which  do  equal  honor 
to  his  head  and  to  his  heart,  that  he  is  what  is  playfully 
termed  a  dummy.  You  were  going  to  observe,  my  dear 
sir—" 

"  I  was  not  going  to  make  any  observation  that  I  know 
of,"  replied  the  old  man. 
/'  /was,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly. 

''  Oh  !  you  were  ?     What  was  it  ?  " 

''  That  I  never,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  previously  rising  to 
see  that  the  door  was  shut,  and  arranging  his  chair  when  he 
came  back,  so  that  it  could  not  be  opened  in  the  least  with- 
out his  immediately  becoming  aware  of  the  circumstance — 
''  that  I  never  in  my  life  was  so  astonished  as  by  the  receipt 
of  your  letter  yesterday.  That  you  should  do  me  the  honor 
to  wish  to  take  counsel  with  me  on  any  matter,  amazed  me  ; 
but  that  you  should  desire  to  do  so,  to  the  exclusion  even 
of  Mr.  Jonas,  showed  an  amount  of  confidence  in  one  to 
whom  you  had  done  a  verbal  injury,  merely  a  verbal  injury, 
you  were  anxious  to  repair — which  gratified,  which  moved, 
which  overcame  me." 

He  was  always  a  glib  speaker,  but  he  delivered  this  short 
address  very  glibly  ;  having  been  at  some  pains  to  compose 
it  outside  the  coach. 

Although  he  paused  for  a  reply,  and  truly  said  that  he 
was  there  at  Anthony's  request,  the  old  man  sat  gazing  at 
him  in  profound  silence  and  with  a  perfectly  blank  face. 
Nor  did  he  seem  to  have  the  least  desire  or  impulse  to  pur- 
sue the  conversation,  though  Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  toward 
the  door,  and  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  gave  him  many 
other  hints  that  their  time  was  short,  and  Jonas,  if  he  kept 
his  word,  would  soon  return.     But  the  strangest  incident  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  309 

all  this  strange  behavior  was,  that  of  a  sudden,  in  a  moment, 
so  swiftly  that  it  was  impossible  to  trace  how,  or  to  observe 
any  process  of  change,  his  features  fell  into  their  old  expres- 
sion, and  he  cried,  striking  his  hand  passionately  upon  the 
table  as  if  no  interval  at  all  had  taken  place  : 

''  Will  you  hold  your  tongue,  sir,  and  let  me  speak  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  deferred  to  him  with  a  submissive  bow;  and 
said  within  himself,  "  I  know  his  hand  was  changed,  and 
that  his  writing  staggered.  I  said  so  yesterday.  Ahem  ! 
Dear  me  !  " 

"  Jonas  is  sweet  upon  your  daughter,  Pecksniff,"  said  the 
old  man,  in  his  usual  tone. 

"  We  spoke  of  that,  if  you  remember,  sir,  at  Mrs.  Tod- 
gers's,"  replied  the  courteous  architect. 

**  You  needn't  speak  so  loud,"  retorted  Anthony.  "  I'm 
not  so  deaf  as  that." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  certainly  raised  his  voice  pretty  high  ; 
not  so  much  because  he  thought  Anthony  was  deaf,  as 
because  he  felt  convinced  that  his  perceptive  faculties  were 
waxing  dim;  but  ^his  quick  resentment  of  his  considerate 
behavior  greatly  disconcerted  him,  and,  not  knowing 
what  tack  to  shape  his  course  upon,  he  made  another  incli- 
nation of  the  head,  yet  more  submissive  than  the  last. 

"  I  have  said,"  repeated  the  old  man,  "  that  Jonas  is  sweet 
upon  your  daughter." 

"  A  charming  girl,  sir,"  murmured  Mr.  Pecksniff,  seeing 
that  he  waited  for  an  answer.  "  A  dear  girl,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit,  though  I  say  it  who  should  not." 

"  You  know  better,"  cried  the  old  man,  advancing  his 
weazen  face  at  least  a  yard,  and  starting  forward  in  his  chair 
to  do  it.  "  You  lie  !  What,  you  will  be  a  hypocrite,  will 
you  ? 

"  My  good  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  began. 

"  Don't  call  me  a  good  sir,"  retorted  Anthony,  "  and  don't 
claim  to  be  one  yourself.  If  your  daughter  was  what  you 
would  have  me  believe,  she  wouldn't  do  for  Jonas.  Being 
what  she  is,  I  think  she  will.  He  might  be  deceived  in  a 
wife.  She  might  run  riot,  contract  debts,  and  waste  his  sub- 
stance.    Now  when  I  am  dead — " 

His  face  altered  so  horribly  as  he  said  the  word,  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  really  was  fain  to  look  another  way. 

" — It  will  be  worse  for  me  to  know  of  such  doings,  than 
if  I  was  alive;  for  to  be  tormented  for  getting  that  together, 
which  even  while  I  suffer  for  its  acquisition  is  flung  into  the 


310  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

very  kennels  of  the  streets,  would  be  insupportable  torture. 
No,"  said  the  old  man,  hoarsely,  "  let  that  be  saved  at 
least;  let  there  be  something  gained,  and  kept  fast  hold  of, 
when  so  much  is  lost." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksniff,  '*  these  are 
unwholesome  fancies  ;  quite  unnecessary,  sir,  quite  uncalled 
for,  I  am  sure.  The  truth  is,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  are  not 
well  !  " 

"  Not  dying  though  !  "  cried  Anthony,  with  something  like 
the  snarl  of  a  wild  animal.  *'  Not  yet !  There  are  years  of 
life  in  me.  Wh}'-,  look  at  him,"  pointing  to  his  feeble  clerk. 
"  Death  has  no  right  to  leave  him  standing,  and  to  mow  me 
down  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  so  much  afraid  of  the  old  man,  and  so 
completely  taken  aback  by  the  state  in  which  he  found  him, 
that  he  had  not  even  presence  of  mind  enough  to  call  up  a 
scrap  of  morality  from  the  great  storehouse  within  his  own 
breast.  Therefore  he  stammered  out  that  no  doubt  it  was, 
in  fairness  and  decency,  Mr.  Chuffey's  turn  to  expire  ;  and 
that  from  all  he  had  heard  of  Mr.  Chuffey,  and  the  little  he 
had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  of  that  gentleman,  personally, 
he  felt  convinced  in  his  own  mind  that  he  would  see  the  pro- 
priety of  expiring  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

*'  Come  here,"  said  the  old  man,  beckoning  him  to  draw 
nearer.  ''  Jonas  will  be  my  heir,  Jonas  will  be  rich,  and  a 
great  catch  for  you.  You  know  that.  Jonas  is  sweet  upon 
your  daughter." 

"  I  know  that  too,"  thought  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  for  you  have 
said  it  often  enough." 

^'  He  might  get  more  money  than  with  her,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  but  she  will  help  him  to  take  care  of  what  they  have. 
She  is  not  too  young  or  heedless,  and  comes  of  a  good  hard 
griping  stock.  But  don't  you  play  too  fine  a  game.  She  only 
holds  him  by  a  thread;  and  if  you  draw  it  too  tight  (I  know 
his  temper),  it'll  snap.  Bind  him  when  he's  in  the  mood, 
Pecksniff;  bind  him.  You  are  too  deep.  In  your  way  of  lead- 
ing him  on,  you'll  leave  him  miles  behind.  Bah,  you  man 
of  oil,  have  I  no  eyes  to  see  how  you  have  angled  with  him 
from  the  first  ?  " 

*'  Now  I  wonder,"  thought  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  at  him 
with  a  wistful  face,  "  whether  this  is  all  he  has  to  say  !  " 

Old  Anthony  rubbed  his  hands  and  muttered  to  himself; 
complained  again  that  he  was  cold;  drew  his  chair  before  the 
fire;  and  sitting  with  his  back  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  his  chin 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  311 

sunk  down  upon  his  breast,   was,   in  another   minute,    quite 
regardless  or  forgetful  of  his  presence. 

Uncouth  and  unsatisfactory  as  this  short  interview  had 
been,  it  had  furnished  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a  hint  which,  sup- 
posing nothing  further  were  imparted  to  him,  repaid  the 
journey  up,  and  home  again.  For  the  good  gentleman  had 
never  (for  want  of  an  opportunity)  dived  into  the  depths  of 
Mr.  Jonas's  nature  ;  and  any  recipe  for  catching  such  a  son- 
in-law  (much  more,  one  written  on  a  leaf  out  of  his  own 
father's  book),  was  worth  the  having.  In  order  that  he 
might  lose  no  chance  of  improving  so  fair  an  opportuuity  by 
allowing  Anthony  to  fall  asleep  before  he  had  finished  all  he 
had  to  say,  i\Ir.  Pecksniff,  in  the  disposal  of  the  refreshments 
on  the  table,  a  work  to  which  he  now  applied  himself  in  earn- 
est, resorted  to  many  ingenious  contrivances  for  attracting 
his  attention  ;  such  as  coughing,  sneezing,  clattering  the 
tea-cups,  sharpening  the  knives,  dropping  the  loaf  and  so 
forth.  But  all  in  vain,  for  Mr.  Jonas  returned,  and  Anthony 
had  said  no  more. 

"  What  !  My  father  asleep  again  ?  "  he  cried,  as  he  hung 
up  his  hat,  and  cast  a  look  at  him.  "  Ah  !  and  snoring.  Only 
hear  !  " 

"  He  snores  very  deep,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

''  Snores  deep  ?  "  repeated  Jonas.  "  Yes  ;  let  him  alone 
for  that.     He'll  snore  for  six,  at  any  time." 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that  I 
think  your  father  is — don't  let  me  alarm  you — breaking  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  is  he  though  ?  "  replied  Jonas,  with  a  shake  of  his 
head  which  expressed  the  closeness  of  his  dutiful  observa- 
tion. "  Ecod,  you  don't  know  how  tough  he  is.  He  ain't 
upon  the  move  yet." 

"  It  struck  me  that  he  was  changed,  both  in  his  appear- 
ance and  manner,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  That's  all  you  know  about  it,"  returned  Jonas,  seating 
himself  with  a  melancholy  air.  He  never  was  better  than 
he   is  now.     How  are  they  all  at  home  ?     How's  Charity  ?  " 

'*  Blooming,  Mr.  Jonas,  blooming." 

"And  the  other  one  ;  how's  she  ?  " 

"  Volatile  trifler  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  fondly  musing. 
"  She  is  well,  she  is  well.  Roving  from  parlor  to  bed-room, 
Mr.  Jonas,  like  the  bee  ;  skimming  from  post  to  pillar,  like 
the  butterfly  ;  dipping  her  young  beak  into  our  currant  wine, 
like  the  humming-bird  !  Ah  !  were  she  a  little  less  giddy 
than  she  is,  and  had  she  but  the  sterling  qualities  of  Cherry, 
my  young  friend  !  " 


312  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

'*  Is  she  so  very  giddy,  then  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"Well,  well  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  great  feeling;  "  let 
me  not  be  hard  upon  my  child.  Beside  her  sister  Cherry 
she  appears  so.     A  strange  noise  that,  Mr.  Jonas  !  " 

*'  Something  wrong  in  the  clock,  I  suppose,"  said  Jonas, 
glancing  toward  it.  *'  So  the  other  one  ain't  your  favorite, 
ain't  she  ?  " 

The  fond  father  was  about  to  reply,  and  had  already  sum- 
moned into  his  face  a  look  of  most  intense  sensibility,  when 
the  sound  he  had  already  noticed  was  repeated. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Jonas,  that  is  a  very  extraordinary 
clock,"  said  Pecksniff. 

It  would  have  been  if  it  had  made  the  noise  which  startled 
them,  but  another  kind  of  time-piece  was  fast  running  down, 
and  from  that  the  sound  proceeded.  A  scream  from  Chuffey, 
rendered  a  hundred  times  more  loud  and  formidable  by  his 
silent  habits,  made  the  house  ring  from  roof  to  cellar  ;  and, 
looking  round,  they  saw  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  extended  on 
the  floor,  with  the  old  clerk  upon  his  knees  beside  him. 

He  had  fallen  from  his  chair  in  a  fit,  and  lay  there,  bat- 
tling for  each  gasp  of  breath,  with  every  shriveled  vein  and 
sinew  starting  in  its  place,  as  if  it  were  bent  on  bearing  wit- 
ness to  his  age,  and  sternly  pleading  with  nature  against  his 
recovery.  It  was  frightful  to  see  how  the  principle  of  life, 
shut  up  within  his  withered  frame,  fought  like  a  strong  devil, 
mad  to  be  released,  and  rent  his  ancient  prison-house.  A 
young  man  in  the  fullness  of  his  vigor,  struggling  with  so 
much  strength  of  desperation,  would  have  been  a  dismal 
sight  ;  but  an  old,  old  shrunken  body,  endowed  with  preter- 
natural might,  and  giving  the  lie  in  every  motion  ot  its  every 
limb  and  joint  to  its  enfeebled  aspect,  was  a  hideous  spec- 
tacle indeed. 

They  raised  him  up,  and  fetched  a  surgeon  with  all  haste, 
who  bled  the  patient  and  applied  some  remedies  ;  but  the 
fits  held  him  so  long  that  it  was  past  midnight  when  they 
got  him,  quiet  now,  but  quite  unconscious  and  exhausted, 
into  bed. 

'^  Don't  go,"  said  Jonas,  putting  his  ashy  lips  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's ear,  and  whispering  across  the  bed.  "It  was  a  mercy 
you  were  present  when  he  was  taken  ill.  Some  one  might 
have  said  it  was  my  doing." 

"  Vour  doing  ?"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  don't  know  but  they  might,"  he  replied,  wiping  the 
moisture  from  his  white  face.  "  People  say  such  things. 
How  does  he  look  now  ? " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  313 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head, 

"  I  used  to  joke,  you  know,"  said  Jonas;  "but  I — I  never 
wished  him  dead.     Do  you  think  he's  very  bad  ?  " 

"  The  doctor  said  he  was.  You  heard,"  was  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's answer. 

''  Ah  !  but  he  might  say  that  to  charge  us  more,  in  case 
of  his  getting  well,"  said  Jonas.  *'  You  mustn't  go  away,  Peck- 
sniff. Now  it's  come  to  this,  I  wouldn't  be  without  a  wit- 
ness for  a  thousand  pound." 

Chuffey  said  not  a  word,  and  heard  not  a  word.  He 
had  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  at  the  bedside,  and  there 
he  remained,  motionless  ;  except  that  he  sometimes  bent 
his  head  over  the  pillow,  and  seemed  to  listen.  He  never 
changed  in  this.  Though  once  in  the  dreary  night  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  having  dozed,  awoke  with  a  confused  impres- 
sion that  he  had  heard  him  praying,  and  strangely 
mingling  figures,  not  of  speech,  but  arithmetic,  with  his 
broken  prayers. 

Jonas  sat  there,  too,  all  night  ;  not  where  his  father 
could  have  seen  him,  had  his  consciousness  returned',  but 
hiding,  as  it  were,  behind  him,  and  only  reading  how  he 
looked,  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes.  He,  the  coarse  upstart, 
who  had  ruled  the  house  so  long  ?  That  craven  cur,  who 
was  afraid  to  move,  and  shook  so,  that  his  very  shadow 
fluttered  on  the  wall  ! 

It  was  broad,  bright  stirring  day  when,  leaving  the  old 
clerk  to  watch  him,  they  went  down  to  breakfast.  People 
hurried  up  and  down  the  street  ;  windows  and  doors  were 
opened;  thieves  and  beggars  took  their  usual  posts;  workmen 
bestirred  themselves;  tradesmen  set  forth  their  shops;  bailiffs 
and  constables  were  on  the  watch  ;  all  kinds  of  human 
creatures  strove  in  their  several  ways,  as  hard  to  live,  as 
the  one  sick  old  man  who  combated  for  every  grain  of 
sand  in  his  fast-emptying  glass,  as  eagerly  as  if  it  were  an 
empire. 

'*  If  any  thing  happens,  Pecksniff,"  said  Jonas,  "  you 
must  promise  me  to  stop  here  till  it's  all  over.  You  shall 
see  that  I  do  what's  right." 

"  I  know  that  you  will  do  what's  right,  Mr.  Jonas," 
said  Pecksniff. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  won't  be  doubted.  No  one  shall  have  it 
in  his  power  to  say  a  syllable  against  me,"  he  returned. 
**  I  know  how  people  will  talk.  Just  as  if  he  wasn't  old,  or 
I  had  the  secret  of  keeping  him  alive  !  " 


314  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  promised  that  he  would  remain,  if  cir- 
cumstances should  render  it,  in  his  esteemed  friend's 
opinion,  desirable  ;  they  were  finishing  their  meal  in  silence, 
when  suddenly  an  apparition  stood  before  them  so  ghastly 
to  the  view,  that  Jonas  shrieked  aloud,  and  both  recoiled 
in  horror. 

Old  Anthony,  dressed  in  his  usual  clothes,  was  in  the 
room — beside  the  table.  He  leaned  upon  the  shoulder  of 
his  solitary  friend;  and  on  his  livid  face,  and  on  his  horny 
hands,  and  in  his  glassy  eyes,  and  traced  by  an  eternal 
finger  in  the  very  drops  of  sweat  upon  his  brow,  was  one 
word — Death. 

He  spoke  to  them,  in  something  of  his  own  voice  too, 
but  sharpened  and  made  hollow,  like  a  dead  man's  face. 
What  he  would  have  said,  God  knows.  He  seemed  to  utter 
words,  but  they  were  such  as  man  had  never  heard.  And 
this  was  the  most  fearful  circumstance  of  all,  to  see  him 
standing  there,  gabbling  in  an  unearthly  tongue. 

''He's  better  now,"  said  Chuffey.  ''Better  now.  Let 
him  sit  in  his  old  chair,  and  he'll  be  well  again.  I  told  him 
not  to  mind.     I  said  so,  yesterday." 

They  put  him  in  his  easy-chair,  and  wheeled  it  near 
the  window;  then,  setting  open  the  door,  exposed  him  to  the 
free  current  of  morning  air.  But  not  all  the  air  that  is,  nor 
all  the  winds  that  ever  blew  'twixt  heaven  and  earth,  could 
have  brought  new  life  to  him. 

Blunge  him  to  the  throat  in  golden  pieces,  now,  and  his 
heavy  fingers  shall  not  close  on  one  ! 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    READER   IS    BROUGHT    INTO  COMMUNICATION    WITH   SOME 
PROFESSIONAL    PERSONS,     AND     SHEDS     A     TEAR     OVER     THE 
.      FILIAL    PIETY    OF    GOOD    MR.     JONAS. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  a  hackney  cabriolet,  for  Jonas  Chuz- 
zlewit  had  said  "  spare  no  expense."  Mankind  is  evil  in 
its  thoughts  and  in  its  base  constructions,  and  Jonas  was 
resolved  it  should  not  have  an  inch  to  stretch  into  an  ell 
against  him.  It  never  should  be  charged  upon  his  father's 
son  that  he  had  grudged  the  money  for  his  father's  funeral. 
Hence,  until  the  obsequies  should  be  concluded,  Jonas  had 
taken  for  his  motto  "  spend,  and  spare  not  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  315 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  to  the  undertaker,  and  was  now  upon 
his  way  to  another  officer  in  the  train  of  mourning;  a  female 
functionary,  a  nurse,  and  watcher,  and  performer  of  nameless 
offices  about  the  persons  of  the  dead,  whom  he  had  recom- 
mended. Her  name,  as  Mr,  Pecksniff  gathered  from  a  scrap 
of  writing  in  his  hand,  was  Gamp;  her  residence  in  Kings- 
gate  Street,  High  Holborn.  So  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  hackney- 
cab,  was  rattling  over  Holborn  stones,  in  quest  of  Mrs. 
Gamp. 

This  lady  lodged  at  a  bird-fancier's,  next  door  but  one  to 
the  celebrated  mutton-pie  shop,  and  directly  opposite  co  the 
original  cat's-meat  warehouse;  the  renown  of  which  estabiish- 
meiits  was  duly  heralded  on  their  respective  fronts.  It  was  a 
little  house,  and  this  was  the  more  convenient;  for  Mrs.  Gamp 
being  in  her  highest  walk  of  art,  a  monthly  nurse,  or,  as  her 
sign-board  boldly  had  it,  "  midwife,"  and  lodging  in  the 
first-floor  front,  was  easily  assailable  at  night  by  pebbles, 
walking-sticks,  and  fragments  of  tobacco-pipe,  all  much  more 
efficacious  than  the  street-door  knocker,  which  was  so  con- 
structed  as  to  wake  the  street  with  ease,  and  even  spread 
alarms  of  fire  in  Holborn,  without  making  the  smallesl 
impression  on  the  premises  to  which  it  was  addressed. 

It  chanced  on  this  particular  occasion,  that  Mrs.  Gamp, 
had  been  up  all  the  previous  night,  in  attendance  upon  a 
ceremony  to  which  the  usage  of  gossips  has  given  that  name 
which  expresses,  in  two  syllables,  the  curse  pronounced  on 
Adam.  It^chanced  that  Mrs.  Gamp  had  not  been  regularly 
engaged,  but  had  been  called  in  at  a  crisis,  in  co'nsecjuence 
of  her  great  repute,  to  assist  another  professional  lady  with 
her  advice;  and  thus  it  happened  that,  all  points  of  interest 
in  the  case  being  over,  Mrs.  Gamp  had  come  hop.ie  again  to 
the  bird-fancier's  and  gone  to  bed.  So,  when  Mr.  Pecksniff 
drove  up  in  the  hackney  cab,  Mrs.  Gamp's  curtains  were 
drawn  close,  and  Mrs.  Gamp  was  fast  asleep  behind  them. 

If  the  bird-fancier  had  been  at  home,  as  he  ought  to  have 
been,  there  would  have  been  no  great  harm  in  this  ;  but  he 
v/as  out,  and  his  shop  was  closed.  The  shutters  were  down, 
certainly;  and  in  every  pane  of  glass  there  was  at  least  one 
tiny  bird  in  a  tiny  bird-cage,  twittering  an(i  hopping  his  little 
ballet  of  despair,  and  knocking  his  head  against  the  roof; 
while  one  unhappy  goldfinch  who  lived  outside  a  red  villa 
with  his  name  on  the  door,  drew  the  warer  for  his  own  drink- 
ing, and  mutely  appealed  to  some  good  man  to  drop  a  far- 
thing's worth  of  poison  in  it.     Still  the  door  was  shut.     Mr, 


3i6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Pecksniff  tried  the  latch,  and  shook  it,  causing  a  cracked  belj 
inside  to  ring  most  mournfully;  but  no  one  came.  The 
bird-fancier  was  an  easy  shaver  also,  and  a  fashionable  hair- 
dresser also;  and  perhaps  he  had  been  sent  for,  express,  from 
the  court  end  of  the  town,  to  trim  a  lord,  or  cut  and  curl  a 
lady;  but  however  that  might  be,  there,  upon  his  own  ground 
he  was  not;  nor  was  there  any  more  distinct  trace  of  him  to 
assist  the  imagination  of  an  inquirer,  than  a  professional 
print  or  emblem  of  his  calling  (much  favored  in  the  trade), 
representing  a  hair-dresser  of  easy  manners  curling  a  lady  of 
distinguished  fashion,  in  the  presence  of  a  patent  upright 
grand  pianoforte. 

Noting  these  circumstances,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  the  inno- 
cence of  his  heart,  applied  himself  to  the  knocker;  but  at  the 
first  double  knock,  every  window  in  the  street  became  alive 
with  female  heads;  and  before  he  could  repeat  the  perform- 
ance, whole  troops  of  married  ladies  (some  about  to  trouble 
Mrs.  Gamp  themselves,  very  shortly),  came  flocking  round 
the  steps,  all  crying  out  with  one  accord,  and  with 
uncommon  interest,  "  Knock  at  the  winder,  sir,  knock  at 
the  winder.  Lord  bless  you,  don't  lose  no  more  time  than 
you  can  help;  knock  at  the  winder  !  " 

Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  and  borrowing  the  driver's 
whip  for  the  purpose,  Mr.  Pecksniff  soon  made  a  commotion 
among  the  first-floor  flower-pots,  and  roused  Mrs.  Gamp, 
whose  voice — to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  matrons — was 
heard  to    say,  "  I'm  coming." 

''  He's  as  pale  as  a  muffin,"  said  one  lady,  in  allusion  to 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  So  he  ought  to  be,  if  he's  the  feelings  of  a  man," 
observed  another. 

A  third  lady  (with  her  arms  folded)  said  she  wished  he 
had  chosen  any  other  time  for  fetching  Mrs.  Gamp,  but  it 
always  happened  so  with  he?-. 

It  gave  Mr.  Pecksniff  much  u-neasiness  to  find,  from  these 
remarks,  that  he  was  supposed  to  have  come  to  Mrs.  Gamp 
upon  an  errand  touching — not  the  close  of  life,  but  the  other 
end.  Mrs.  Gamp  herself  was  under  the  same  impression, 
for  throwing  open  the  window,  she  cried  behind  the  curtains, 
as  she  hastily  attired  herself: 

"  Is  it  Mrs.  Perkins  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sharply.  "  Nothing  of 
the  sort." 

"  What,  Mr.  Whilks  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "Don't  say  it's 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  317 

you,  Mr.  Whilks,  and  that  poor  creetur  Mrs.  Whilks  with 
not  even  a  pincushion  ready.  Don't  say  it's  you,  Mr. 
Whilks  !  " 

"  It  isn't  Mr.  Whilks,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  I  don't  know 
the  man.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  A  gentleman  is  dead  ;  and 
some  person  being  wanted  in  the  house,  you  have  been 
recommended  by  Mr.   Mould  the  undertaker." 

As  she  was  by  this  time  in  a  condition  to  appear,  Mrs. 
Gamp,  who  had  a  face  for  all  occasions,  looked  out  of  her 
window  with  her  mourning  countenance,  and  said  she  would 
be  down  directly.  But  the  matrons  took  it  very  ill,  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  mission  was  of  so  unimportant  a  kind  ;  and  the 
lady  with  her  arms  folded  rated  him  in  good  round  terms, 
signifying  that  she  would  be  glad  to  know  what  he  meant  by 
terrifying  delicate  females  "  with  his  corpses  ;  "  and  giving 
it  as  her  opinion  that  he  was  quite  ugly  enough  to  know 
better.  The  other  ladies  were  not  at  all  behind-hand  in 
expressing  similar  sentiments  ;  and  the  children,  of  whom 
some  scores  had  now  collected,  hooted  and  defied  Mr. 
Pecksniff  quite  savagely.  So,  when  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared, 
the  unoffending  gentleman  was  glad  to  hustle  her  with  very 
little  ceremony  into  the  cabriolet,  and  drive  off,  overwhelmed 
with  popular  execration. 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  a  large  bundle  with  her,  a  pair  of  pattens, 
and  a  species  of  gig  umbrella  ;  the  latter  article  in  color 
like  a  faded  leaf,  except  where  a  circular  patch  of  a  lively 
blue  had  been  dexterously  let  in  at  the  top.  She  was  much 
flurried  by  the  haste  she  had  made,  and  labored  under  the 
most  erroneous  views  of  cabriolets,  which  she  appeared  to 
confound  with  mail-coaches  or  stage-wagons,  inasmuch  as 
she  was  constantly  endeavoring  for  the  first  half  mile  to 
force  her  luggage  through  the  little  front  window,  and  clam- 
oring to  the  driver  to  "  put  it  in  the  boot."  When  she  was 
disabused  of  this  idea,  her  whole  being  resolved  itself  into 
an  absorbing  anxiety  about  her  pattens,  with  which  she 
played  innumerable  games  at  quoits,  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's  legs. 
It  was  not  until  they  Vv'ere  close  upon  the  house  of  mourning 
that  she  had  enough  composure  to  observe  : 

'*  And  so  the  gentleman's  dead,  sir  !  Ah  !  The  more's 
the  pity."  She  didn't  even  know  his  name.  "  But  it's  what 
we  must  all  come  to.  It's  as  certain  as  being  born,  except 
that  we  can't  make  our  calculations  as  exact.  Ah  !  Poor 
dear ! " 

She  was  a  fat  old  woman,  this  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  husky 


3i8  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEW1T. 

voice  and  a  moist  eye,  which  she  had  a  remarkable  power  of 
turning  up,  and  only  showing  the  white  of  it.  Having  very 
little  neck,  it  cost  her  some  trouble  to  look  over  herself,  if 
one  may  say  so,  at  those  to  whom  she  talked.  She  wore  a 
very  rusty  black  gown,  rather  the  worse  for  snuff,  and  a 
shawl  and  bonnet  to  correspond.  In  these  dilapidated  arti- 
cles of  dress  she  had,  on  principle,  arrayed  herself,  time  out 
of  mind,  on  such  occasions  as  the  present  ;  for  this  at  once 
expressed  a  decent  amount  of  veneration  for  the  deceased, 
and  invited  the  next  of  kin  to  present  her  with  a  fresher 
suit  of  weeds,  an  appeal  so  frequently  successful,  that  the 
very  fetch  and  ghost  of  Mrs.  Gamp,  bonnet  and  all,  might 
be  seen  hanging  up,  any  hour  in  the  day,  in  at  least  a  dozen 
of  the  second-hand  clothes  shops  about  Holborn.  The  face 
of  Mrs.  Gamp — the  nose  in  particular — was  somewhat  red 
and  swollen,  and  it  was  difficult  to  enjoy  her  society  without 
becoming  conscious  of  a  smell  of  spirits.  Like  most  per- 
sons who  have  attained  to  great  eminence  in  their  profession, 
she  took  to  hers  very  kindly  ;  insomuch,  that  setting  aside 
her  natural  predilections  as  a  woman,  she  went  to  a  lying-in 
era  laying-out  with  equal  zest  and  relish. 

"  Ah  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  for  it  was  always  a  safe 
sentiment  in  cases  of  mourning.  "  Ah  dear  !  When  Gamp 
was  summoned  to  his  long  home,  and  I  see  him  a  lying  in 
Guy's  Hospital  with  a  penny-piece  on  each  eye,  and  his 
wooden  leg  under  his  left  arm,  I  thought  I  should  have  fainted 
away.     But  I  bore  up." 

If  certain  whispers  current  in  the  Kingsgate  Street  circles 
had  any  truth  in  them,  she  had  indeed  borne  up  surpris- 
ingly ;  and  had  exerted  such  uncommon  fortitude,  as  to  dis- 
pose of  Mr.  Gamp's  remains  for  the  benefit  of  science. 
But  it  should  be  added,  in  fairness,  that  this  had  happened 
twenty  years  before  ;  and  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamp  had 
long  been  separated,  on  the  ground  of  incompatibility  of 
temper  in  their  drink. 

"  You  have  become  indifferent  since  then,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  Use  is   second   nature,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"You  may  well  say  second  nater,  sir,"  returned  that  lady. 
"  One's  first  ways  is  to  find  sich  things  a  trial  to  the  feelings, 
and  so  is  one's  lasting  custom.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  nerve  a 
little  sip  of  liquor  gives  me  (I  never  was  able  to  do  more  than 
taste  it),  I  never  could  go  through  with  what  I  sometimes 
has  to  do.  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says,  at  the  very  last  case  as 
ever  I  acted  in,  which  it  was  but  a  young  person, '  Mrs.  Harris/ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  319 

I  says,  *  leave  the  bottle  on  the  chimley-piece,  and  don't  ask  me 
to  take  none,  but  let  nie  put  my  lips  to  it  when  I  am  so  dis- 
poged,  and  then  I  will  do  what  I'm  engaged  to  do,  accord- 
ing to  the  best  of  my  ability.'  *  Mrs.  Gamp,'  she  says,  in 
answer,  '  if  ever  there  was  a  sober  creetur  to  be  got  at  eight- 
een pence  a  day  for  working  people,  and  three  and  six  for 
gentlefolks — night  watching,' "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with 
emphasis,  "  '  being  an  extra  charge — you  are  that  inwallable 
person.'  *  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  '  don't  name  the 
charge,  for  if  I  could  afford  to  lay  all  my  fellow-creeturs  out 
for  nothink,  I  would  gladly  do  it,  sich  is  the  love  I  bears 
'em.  But  what  I  always  says  to  them  as  has  the  manage- 
ment of  matters,  Mrs.  Harris'" — here  she  kept  her  eye  on 
Mr.  Pecksniff — *' '  be  they  gents  or  be  they  ladies,  is,  don't 
ask  me  whether  I  won't  take  none,  or  whether  I  will,  but 
leave  the  bottle  on  the  chimley-piece,  and  let  me  put  my  lips 
to  it  when  I  am  so  dispoged.'  " 

The  conclusion  of  this  affecting  narrative  brought  them  to 
the  house.  In  the  passage  they  encountered  Mr.  Mould  the 
undertaker — a  little  elderly  gentleman,  bald,  and  in  a  suit  of 
black — with  a  note-book  in  his  hand,  a  massive  gold  watch- 
chain  dangling  from  his  fob,  and  a  face  in  which  a  queer 
attempt  at  melancholy  was  at  odds  with  a  smirk  of  satisfac- 
tion; so  that  he  looked  as  a  man  might,  who,  in  the  very  act 
of  smacking  his  lips  over  choice  old  wine,  tried  to  make 
believe  it  was  physic. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Gamp,  and  how  arejw/,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  "  said 
this  gentleman,  in  a  voice  as  soft  as  his  step. 

"  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  dropping  a  courtesy, 

**  You'll  be  very  particular  here,  Mrs.  Gamp.  This  is  not 
a  common  case,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Let  every  thing  be  very  nice 
and  comfortable,  Mrs.  Gamp,  if  you  please,"  said  the  under- 
taker, shaking  his  head  with  a  solemn  air. 

'*  It  shall  be,  sir,"  she  replied,  courtesying  again.  **  You 
knows  me  of  old,  sir,  I  hope." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  the  undertaker;  "  and 
I  think  so,  also."  Mrs.  Cramp  courtesied  again.  "  This  is 
one  of  the  most  impressive  cases,  sir,"  he  continued,  address- 
ing Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that  I  have  seen  in  the  whole  course  of 
my  professional  experience." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Mould!  "  cried  that  gentleman. 

"  Such  affectionate  regret,  sir,  I  never  saw.  There  is  no 
limitation,  there  is  positively  no  limitation  " — opening  his 
eyes  wide,  and  standing  on  tiptoe — "  in  point  of  expense!    I 


320  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

have  orders,  sir!  to  put  out  my  whole  estabHshment  of  mutes; 
and  mutes  come  very  dear,  Mr,  Pecksniff;  not  to  mention 
their  drink.  To  provide  silver-plated  handles  of  the  very  best 
description,  ornamented  with  angels'  heads  from  the  most 
expensive  dies.  To  be  perfectly  profuse  in  feathers.  In 
short,  sir,  to  turn  out  something  absolutely  gorgeous." 

**  My  friend  Mr.  Jonas  is  an  excellent  man,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  what  is  filial  in  my  time,  sir," 
retorted  Mould,  ''  and  what  is  unfiliai  too.  It  is  our  lot.  We 
come  into  the  knowledge  of  those  secrets.  But  any  thing  so 
filial  as  this;  anything  so  honorable  to  human  nature;  so 
calculated  to  reconcile  all  of  us  to  the  world  we  live  in; 
never  yet  came  under  my  observation.  It  only  proves,  sir, 
what  was  so  forcibly  observed  by  the  lamented  theatrical 
poet — buried  at  Stratford — that  there  is  good  in  every  thing." 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr.  Mould," 
observed  Pecksniff. 

'*  You  are  very  kind,  sir.  And  what  a  man  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit  was,  sir!  Ah!  what  a  man  he  was.  You  may  talk  of 
your  lord  mayor.s,"  said  Mould,  waving  liis  hand  at  the  pub- 
lic in  general,  '*  your  sheriffs,  your  common  councilmen,  your 
trumpery;  but  show  me  a  man  in  this  city  who  is  worthy  to 
walk  in  the  shoes  of  the  departed  Mr.  Chuzzlev/it.  No,  no," 
cried  Mould,  with  bitter  sarcasm.  "  Hang  *em  up,  hang  'em 
up;  sole  'em  and  heel  'em,  and  have  'em  ready  for  his  son 
against  he's  old  enough  to  wear  'em;  but  don't  try  'em  on 
yourselves,  for  they  won't  fit  you.  We  knew  him,"  said 
Mould,  in  the  same  biting  vein,  as  he  pocketed  his  note- 
book; ''  we  knew  him,  and  are  not  to  be  caught  with  chaff. 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  sir,  good  morning." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  the  compliment;  and  Mould,  sen- 
sible of  having  distinguished  himself,  was  going  away  with 
a  brisk  smile,  when  he  fortunately  remembered  the  occasion. 
Quickly  becoming  depressed  again,  he  sighed;  looked  into 
the  crown  of  his  hat,  as  if  for  comfort;  put  it  on  without 
finding  any;  and  slowly  departed. 

Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  then  ascended  the  staircase; 
and  the  former,  having  been  shown  to  the  chamber  in  which 
all  that  remained  of  Anthony  Chuzzelwit  lay  covered  up, 
with  but  one  loving  heart,  and  that  a  halting  one,  to  mourn 
it,  left  the  latter  free  to  enter  the  darkened  room  below,  and 
rejoin  Mr.  Jonas,  from  whom  he  had  now  been  absent  nearly 
two  hours. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  321 

He  found  that  example  to  bereaved  sons  and  pattern  in 
the  eyes  of  all  performers  of  funerals,  musing  over  a  frag- 
ment of  writing"paper  on  the  desk,  and  scratching  figures  on 
it  with  a  pen. '  The  old  man's  chair,  and  hat,  and  walking- 
stick,  were  removed  from  their  accustomed  places,  and  put 
out  of  sight  ;  the  window-blinds,  as  yellow  as  November 
fogs,  were  drawn  down  close  ;  Jonas' himself  was  so  subdued, 
that  he  could  scarcely  be  heard  to  speak,  and  only  seen  to 
walk  across  the  room. 

"Pecksniff,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  you  shall  have  the  regu- 
lation of  it  all,  mind  !  You  shall  be  able  to  tell  any  body 
who  talks  about  it  that  every  thing  was  correctly  and  freely 
done.  There  isn't  any  one  you'd  like  to  ask  to  the  funeral, 
is  there  ? " 

"  No,  Mr.  Jonas,  I  think  not." 

''  Because  if  there  is,  you  know,"  said  Jonas,  "  ask  him. 
We  don't  want  to  make  a  secret  of  it." 

"  No,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  little  reflection. 
"  I  am  not  the  less  obliged  to  you  on  that  account,  Mr. 
Jonas,  for  your  liberal  hospitality  ;  but  there  really  is  no 
one." 

"Very  well,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  then  you,  and  I,  and  Chuffey, 
and  the  doctor,  will  be  just  a  coachful.  We'll  have  the  doc- 
tor, Pecksniff,  because  he  knows  what  was  the  matter  with 
him,  and  that  it  couldn't  be  helped." 

"  Where  is  our  dear  friend,  Mr.  Chuffey  ?  "  asked  Peck- 
sniff, looking  round  the  chamber,  and  winking  both  his  eyes 
at  once.     For  he  was  overcome  by  his  feelings. 

But  here  he  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  who,  divested 
of  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  came  sidling  and  bridling  into  the 
room  ;  and  with  some  sharpness,  demanded  a  conference 
outside  the  door  with  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"You  may  say  whatever  you  wish  to  say  here,  Mrs.  Gamp," 
said  that  gentleman,  shaking  his  head  with  a  melancholy 
expression. 

"  It  is  not  much  as  I  have  to  say,  when  people  is  a  mourn- 
ing for  the  dead  and  gone,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  but  what  I 
have  to  say  is  to  the  pint  and  purpose,  and  no  offense 
intended,  must  be  so  considered.  I  have  been  at  a  many 
places  in  my  time,  gentlemen,  and  I  hope  I  knows  what  my 
duties  is,  and  how  the  same  should  be  performed;  in  course, 
if  I  did  not,  it  would  be  very  strange,  and  very  wrong  in  sich 
a  gentleman  as  Mr.  Mould,  which  has  undertook  the  highest 
families   in  this  land,   and  given  every  satisfaction,  so  to 


'S22  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

recommend  me  as  he  does.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
my  own  self,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  laying  greater  and  greater 
stress  upon  her  words,  "  and  I  can  feel  for  them  as  has  their 
feelings  tried,  but  I  am  not  a  Rooshan  or  a  Proonshan,  and 
consequently  can  not  suffer  spies  to  be  set  over  me." 

Before  it  was  possible  that  an  answer  could  be  returned, 
Mrs.  Gamp,  growing  redder  in  the  face,  went  on  to  say  : 

"It  is  not  a  easy  matter,  gentlemen,  to  live  when  you  are 
left  a  widder  woman  ;  particular  when  your  feelings  works 
upon  you  to  that  extent  that  you  often  find  yourself  a-going 
out,  on  terms  which  is  a  certain  loss,  and  never  can  repay. 
But,  in  whatever  way  you  earns  your  bread,  you  may  have 
rules  and  regulations  of  your  own,  which  can  not  be  broke 
through.  Some  people,"  said  Mrs.  Cxamp,  again  entrenching 
herself  behind  her  strong  point,  as  if  it  were  not  assailable 
by  human  ingenuity,  *'  may  be  Rooshans,  and  others  may  be 
Prooshans  ;  they  are  born  so,  and  will  please  themselves. 
Them  which  is  of  other  naturs  thinks  different." 

"  If  I  understand  this  good  lady,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
turning  to  Jonas,  "  Mr.  Chuffey  is  troublesome  to  her.  Shall 
I  fetch  him  down  ?  " 

'*  Do,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  was  going  to  tell  you  he  was  up 
there,  when  she  came  in.  I'd  go  myself  and  bring  him  down, 
only — only  I'd  rather  you  went,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  promptly  departed,  followed  by  Mrs.  Gamp, 
who,  seeing  that  he  took  a  bottle  and  glass  from  the  cup- 
board, and  carried  it  in  his  hands,  was  much  softened. 

"  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  if  it  wasn't  for  his  own  hap- 
piness, I  should  no  more  mind  his  being  there,  poor  dear, 
than  if  he  was  a  fly.  But  them  as  isn't  used  to  these  things, 
think  so  much  of  'em  afterwards,  that  it's  a  kindness  to 
*em  not  to  let  'em  have  their  wish.  And  even,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  probably  in  reference  to  some  flowers  of  speech 
she  had  already  strewn  on  Mr.  Chuffey,  "  even  if  one  calls 
'em  names,  it's  only  done  to  rouse  'em." 

Whatever  epithets  she  had  bestowed  on  the  old  clerk,  they 
had  not  roused  ///;//.  He  sat  beside  the  bed,  in  the  chair  he 
had  occupied  all  the  previous  night,  with  his  hands  folded 
before  him,  and  his  head  bowed  down  ;  and  neither  looked 
up,  on  their  entrance,  nor  gave  any  sign  of  consciousness, 
until  Mr.  Pecksniff  took  him  by  the  arm,  when  he  meekly 
rose. 

**  Three-score  and  ten,"  said  Chuffey,  "  ought  and  carry 
seven.     Some  men  are  so  strong  that  they  live  to  four-score 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  32V 

— four  times  ought's  an  ought,  four  times  two's  an  eight — 
eighty.  Oh  !  why — why — why — didn't  he  live  to  four  times 
ought's  an  ought,  and  four  times  two's  an  eight,  eighty  ?  " 

*' Ah  !  what  a  wale  of  grief  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  possess- 
ing herself  of  the  bottle  and  glass. 

**  Why  did  he  die  before  his  poor  old  crazy  servant  !  "  said 
Chuffey,  clasping  his  hands  and  looking  up  in  anguish.  "Take 
him  from  me,  and  what  remains  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Jonas,"  returned  Pecksniff,  "  Mr.  Jonas,  my  good 
friend." 

"  I  loved  him,"  cried  the  old  man,  weeping.  "  He  was  good 
to  me.  We  learned  tare  and  tret  together,  at  school.  I  took 
him  down  once,  six  boys,  in  the  arithmetic  class.  God  for- 
give me  !  Had  I  the  heart  to  take  him  down  !" 

"  Come,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Pecksniff.  "Come  with  me. 
Summon  up  your  fortitude,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  returned  the  old  clerk.  "  Yes.  I'll  sum  up 
my  forty — how  many  times  forty — Oh,  Chuzzlewit  and  Son 
— Your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit;  your  own  son,  sir  !  " 

He  yielded  to  the  hand  that  guided  him,  as  he  lapsed  into 
this  familiar  expression,  and  submitted  to  be  led  away.  Mrs. 
Gamp,  with  the  bottle  on  one  knee,  and  the  glass  on  the  other, 
sat  upon  a  stool,  shaking  her  head  for  a  long  time,  until,  in  a 
moment  of  abstraction,  she  poured  out  a  dram  of  spirits,  and 
raised  it  to  her  lips.  It  was  succeeded  by  a  second,  and  by  a 
third,  and  then  her  eyes — either  in  the  sadness  of  her  reflec- 
tions upon  life  and  death,  or  in  her  admiration  of  the  liquor 
— were  so  turned  up,  as  to  be  quite  invisible.  But  she  shook 
her  head  still. 

Poor  Chuffey  was  conducted  to  his  accustomed  corner,  and 
there  he  remained,  silent  and  quiet,  save  at  long  intervals, 
when  he  would  rise,  and  walk  about  the  room,  and  wring  his 
hands,  or  raise  some  strange  and  sudden  cry.  For  a  whole 
week  they  all  three  sat  about  the  hearth  and  never  stirred 
abroad.  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  walked  out  in  the  evening 
time,  but  Mr.  Jonas  was  so  averse  to  his  being  absent  for  a 
minute,  that  he  abandoned  the  idea,  and  so,  from  morning 
until  night,  they  brooded  together  in  the  dark  room,  w^ithout 
relief  or  occupation. 

The  weight  of  that  which  was  stretched  out,  stiff  and  stark, 
in  the  awful  chamber  above-stairs,  so  crushed  and  bore  down 
Jonas,  that  he  bent  beneath  the  load.  During  the  whole  long 
seven  days  and  nights,  he  was  always  oppressed  and  haunted 
by  a  dreadful  sense  of  its  presence  in  the  house.     Did  the 


324  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

door  move,  he  looked  toward  it  v/ith  a  livid  face  and  start- 
ing eye,  as  if  he  fully  believed  that  ghostly  fingers  clutched 
the  handle.  Did  the  fire  flicker  in  a  draught  of  air,  he 
glanced  over  his  shoulder,  as  almost  dreading  to  behold  some 
shrouded  figure  fanning  and  flapping  at  it  with  its  fearful 
dress.  The  lightest  noise  disturbed  him;  and  once,  in  the 
night,  at  the  sound  of  a  footstep  over-head,  he  cried  out 
that  the  dead  man  was  walking,  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  about 
his  coffin. 

He  lay  at  night  upon  a  mattress  on  the  floor  of  the  sitting- 
room;  his  own  chamber  having  been  assigned  to  Mrs.  Gamp; 
and  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  similarly  accommodated.  The  howl- 
ing of  a  dog  before  the  house,  filled  him  with  a  terror  he 
could  not  disguise.  He  avoided  the  reflection  in  the  oppo- 
site windows  of  the  light  that  burned  above,  as  though  it 
had  been  an  angry  eye.  He  often,  in  every  night,  rose  up 
from  his  fitful  sleep,  and  looked  and  longed  for  dawn;  all 
directions  and  arrangements,  even  to  the  ordering  of  their 
daily  meals,  he  abandoned  to  Mr.  Pecksniff.  That  excellent 
gentleman,  deeming  that  the  mourner  wanted  comfort,  and 
that  high  feeding  was  likely  to  do  him  infinite  service,  availed 
himself  of  these  opportunities  to  such  good  purpose,  that 
they  kept  quite  a  dainty  table  during  this  melancholy  season; 
with  sweetbreads,  stewed  kidneys,  oysters,  and  other  such 
light  viands  for  supper  every  night;  over  which,  and  sundry 
jorums  of  hot  punch,  Mr.  Pecksniff  delivered  such  moral 
reflections  and  spiritual  consolation  as  might  have  converted 
a  heathen — especially  if  he  had  but  an  imperfect  acquaint- 
ance with  the  English  tongue. 

Nor  did  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone  indulge  in  the  creature  com- 
forts during  this  sad  time.  Mrs.  Gamp  proved  lo  be  very 
choice  in  her  eating,  and  repudiated  hashed  mutton  with 
scorn.  In  her  drinking  too,  she  was  very  punctual  and  partic- 
ular, requiring  a  pint  of  mild  porter  at  lunch,  a  pint  at  dinner, 
half-a-pint  as  a  species  of  stay  or  holdfast  between  dinner  and 
tea,  and  a  pint  of  the  celebrated  staggering  ale,  or  real  old 
Brighton  Tipper,  at  supper;  besides  the  bottle  on  the  chim- 
ney-piece, and  such  casual  invitations  to  refresh  herself  wiih 
wine  as  the  good  breeding  of  her  employers  might  prompt 
them  to  offer.  In  like  manner,  Mr.  Mould's  men  found 
it  necessary  to  drown  their  grief,  like  a  young  kitten  in  the 
morning  of  its  existence;  for  which  reason  they  generally 
fuddled  themselves  before  they  began  to  do  any  thing,  lest  it 
should  make  head  and  get  the  better  of  them.     In  short,  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  325 

whole  of  that  strange  week  was  a  round  of  dismal  joviality 
and  grim  enjoyment  ;  and  every  one,  except  poor  Chutfey, 
who  came  within  the  shadow  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit's  grave, 
feasted  like  a  ghoul. 

At  length  the  day  of  the  funeral,  pious  and  truthful  cere- 
mony that  it  was,  arrived.  Mr.  Mould,  with  a  glass  of 
generous  port  between  his  eye  and  the  light,  leaned  against 
the  desk  in  the  little  glass  office  with  his  gold  watch  in  his 
unoccupied  hand,  and  conversed  with  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  two 
mutes  were  at  the  house-door,  looking  as  mournful  as  could 
be  reasonably  expected  of  men  with  such  a  thriving  job 
in  hand  ;  the  whole  of  Mr.  Mould's  establishment  were  on 
duty  within  the  house  or  without  ;  feathers  waved,  horses 
snorted,  Fiilks  and  velvets  fluttered  ;  in  a  word,  as  Mr.  Mould 
emphatically  said,  "  every  thing  that  money  could  do  was 
done." 

"  And  what  can  do  more,  Mrs.  Gamp  ? "  exclaimed 
the  undertaker,  as  he  emptied  his  glass,  and  smacked  his 
lips. 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,  sir." 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,"  repeated  Mr.  Mould.  "You  are 
right,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Why  do  people  spend  more  money  " — 
here  he  filled  his  glass  again — "  upon  a  death,  Mrs.  Gamp, 
than  upon  a  birth  ?  Come,  that's  in  your  way  ;  you  ought 
to  know.     How  do  you  account  for  that  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  an  undertaker's  charges  comes 
dearer  than  a  nurse's  charges,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
tittering,  and  smoothing  down  her  new  black  dress  with  her 
hands. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Mould.  "  You  have  been  break- 
fasting at  somebody's  expense  this  morning,  Mrs.  Gamp." 
But  seeing,  by  the  aid  of  a  little  shaving-glass  which  hung 
opposite,  that  he  looked  merry,  he  composed  his  features 
and  became  sorrowful. 

''  Many's  the  time  that  I've  not  breakfasted  at  my  own 
expense  along  of  your  kind  recommending,  sir  ;  and  many's 
the  time  I  hope  to  do  the  same  in  time  to  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  with  an  apologetic  courtesy. 

''So  be  it,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  "please  Providence.  No, 
Mrs.  Gamp  ;  111  tell  you  why  it  is.  It's  because  the  laying 
out  of  the  money  with  a  well-conducted  establishment,  where 
the  thing  is  performed  upon  the  very  best  scale,  binds  the 
broken  heart,  and  sheds  balm  upon  the  wounded  spirit. 
Hearts  want  binding,  and  spirits  want  balming  when  people 


326  MARTiri  CHUZZLEWIT. 

die  ;  not  when  people  are  born.  Look  at  this  gentleman  to- 
day ;  look  at  him." 

"An  open-handed  gentleman  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  undertaker;  "not  an  open-handed 
gentleman  in  general,  by  any  means.  There  you  mistake 
him  ;  but  an  afflicted  gentleman,  an  affectionate  gentleman, 
who  knows  what  it  is  in  the  power  of  money  to  do,  in  giving 
him  relief,  and  in  testifying  his  love  and  veneration  for  the 
departed.  It  can  give  him,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  waving  his 
watch-chain  slowly  round  and  round,  so  that  he  described 
one  circle  after  every  item  ;  "  it  can  give  him  four  horses  to 
each  vehicle  ;  it  can  give  him  velvet  trappings  ;  it  can  give 
him  drivers  in  cloth  cloaks  and  top-boots  ;  it  can  givQ  him 
the  plumage  of  the  ostrich,  dyed  black  ;  it  can  give  him  any 
number  of  walking  attendants,  dressed  in  the  first  style  of 
funeral  fashion,  and  carrying  batons  tipped  with  brass  ;  it 
can  give  him  a  handsome  tomb,  it  can  give  him  a  place  in 
Westminster  Abbey  itself,  if  he  choose  to  invest  it  in  such  a 
purchase.  Oh  !  do  not  let  us  say  that  gold  is  dross,  when  it 
can  buy  such  things  as  these,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  But  what  a  blessing,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  that  there 
are  such  as  you,  to  sell  or  let  'em  out  on  hire  ?  " 

"  Ay,  Mrs.  Gamp,  you  are  right,"  rejoined  the  undertaker. 
"  We  should  be  an  honored  calling.  We  do  good  by  stealth, 
and  blush  to  have  it  mentioned  in  our  little  bills.  How 
much  consolation  may  I,  even  I,"  cried  Mr.  Mould,  "have 
diffused  among  my  fellow-creatures  by  means  of  my  four 
long-tailed  prancers,  never  harnessed  under  ten  pound 
ten  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  begun  to  make  a  suitable  reply,  when  she 
was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  one  of  Mr.  Mould's 
assistants — his  chief  mourner  in  fact — an  obese  person, 
with  his  waistcoat  in  closer  connection  with  his  legs  than 
is  quite  reconcilable  with  the  established  ideas  of  grace  ; 
with  that  cast  of  feature  which  is  figuratively  called  a 
bottle-nose  ;  and  with  a  face  covered  all  over  with  pimples. 
He  had  been  a  tender  plant  once  upon  a  time,  but  from  con- 
stant blowing  in  the  fat  atmosphere  of  funerals,  had  run  to 
seed. 

"  Well,  Tacker,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  "  is  all  ready  below  ? " 

"  A  beautiful  show,  sir,"  rejoined  Tacker.  "  The  horses 
are  prouder  and  fresher  than  ever  I  see  'em  ;  and  toss  their 
heads,  they  do,  as  if  they  know'd  how  much  their  plumes 


MARTIX  CHUZZLEWIT.  327 

cost.     One,  two.  three,  four,"  said  Mr.  Tacker,  heaping  that 
number  of  black  cloaks  upon  his  left  arm. 

''  Is  Tom  there,  with  the  cake  and  wine  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Mould. 

"  Ready  to  come  in  at  a  moment's  notice,  sir,"  said 
Tacker. 

"  Then,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mould,  putting  up  his  watch,  and 
glancing  at  himself  in  the  little  shaving  glass,  that  he  might 
be  sure  his  face  had  the  right  expression  on  it;  "  then  I 
think  we  may  proceed  to  business.  Give  me  the  paper  of 
gloves,  Tacker.  Ah,  what  a  man  he  was  !  Ah,  Tacker, 
Tacker,  what  a  man  he  was  I  " 

Mr.  Tacker,  who  from  his  great  experience  in  the  per- 
formance of  funerals,  would  have  made  an  excellent  panto- 
mime actor,  winked  at  Mrs.  Gamp  without  at  all  disturbing 
the  gravity  of  his  countenance,  and  followed  his  master  into 
the  next  room. 

It  was  a  great  point  with  Mr.  Mould,  and  a  part  of  his 
professional  tact,  not  to  seem  to  know  the  doctor  ;  though 
in  reality  they  were  near  neighbors,  and  very  often,  as  in 
the  present  instance,  worked  together.  So  he  advanced  to 
fit  on  his  black  kid  gloves  as  if  he  had  never  seen  him  in  all 
his  life  ;  while  the  doctor,  on  his  part,  looked  as  distant  and 
unconscious  as  if  he  had  heard  and  read  of  undertakers,  and 
had  passed  their  shops,  but  had  never  before  been  brought 
into  communication  with  one. 

"  Gloves,  eh?  "  said  the  doctor.  '^  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  you." 

"  I  couldn't  think  of  it,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  the  doctor,  taking  a  pair. 
"  Well,  sir,  as  I  was  saying,  I  was  called  up  to  attend  that 
case  at  about  half-past  one  o'clock.  Cake  and  wine,  eh  ? 
Which  is  port  ?     Thank  you." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  took  some  also. 

"At  about  half-past  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  sir,'* 
resumed  the  doctor,  ''  I  was  called  up  to  attend  that  case. 
At  the  first  pull  of  the  night-bell  I  turned  out,  threw  up  the 
window,  and  put  out  my  head.  Cloak,  eh  ?  Don't  tie  it  too 
tight.     That'll  do." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  having  been  likewise  inducted  into  a  similar 
garment,  the  doctor  resumed. 

"  And  put  out  my  head.  Hat,  eh  ?  My  good  friend,  that 
is  not  mine.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  think 
we  have  unintentionally  made  an  exchange.  Thank  you. 
Well,  sir,  I  was  going  to  tell  you —  " 


328  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

**We  are  quite  icady,"  interrupted  Mould,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Ready,  eh  ?"  said  the  doctor.  "Very  good.  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  I'll  take  an  opportunity  of  relating  the  rest  in  the 
coach.    It's  rather  curious.    Ready,  eh  ?     No  rain,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Quite  fair,  sir,"  returned  Mould. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  ground  would  have  been  wet,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  for  my  glass  fell  yesterday.  We  may  congratulate 
ourselves  upon  our  good  fortune."  But  seeing  by  this  time 
that  Mr.  Jonas  and  Chuffey  were  going  out  at  the  door,  he 
put  a  white  pocket-handkerchief  to  his  face  as  if  a  violent 
burst  of  grief  had  suddenly  come  upon  him,  and  walked 
down  side  by  side  with  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Mr,  Mould  and  his  men  had  not  exaggerated  the  grandeur 
of  the  arrangements.  They  were  splendid.  The  four  hearse- 
horses,  especially,  reared  and  pranced,  and  showed  their 
highest  action,  as  if  they  knew  a  man  was  dead,  and  tri- 
umphed in  it.  "  They  break  us,  drive  us,  ride  us;  ill-treat, 
abuse,  and  maim  us  for  their  pleasure — but  they  die  ;  hur- 
rah, they  die  !  " 

So,  through  the  narrow  streets  and  winding  city  ways, 
went  Anthony  Chuzzlewit's  funeral  ;  Mr.  Jonas  glancing 
stealthily  out  of  the  coach-window  now  and  then,  to  observe 
its  effect  upon  the  crowd  ;  Mr.  Mould,  as  he  walked  along, 
listening  with  a  sober  pride  to  the  exclamations  of  the 
bystanders  ;  the  doctor  whispering  his  story  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, without  appearing  to  come  any  nearer  to  the  end  of  it; 
and  poor  old  Chuffey  sobbing  unregarded  in  the  corner.  But 
he  had  greatly  scandalized  Mr.  Mould  at  an  early  stage  of 
the  ceremony  by  carrying  his  handkerchief  in  his  hat  in  a 
perfectly  informal  manner,  and  wiping  his  eyes  with  his 
knuckles.  And  as  Mr.  Mould  himself  had  said  already,  his 
behavior  was  indecent,  and  c^uite  unworthy  of  such  an  occa- 
sion ;  and  he  never  ought  to  have  been  there. 

There  he  was,  however,  and  in  the  churchyard  there  he 
was,  also,  conducting  himself  in  a  no  less  unbecoming  man- 
ner, and  leaning  for  support  on  Tacker,  who  plainly  told 
him  that  he  was  fit  for  nothing  better  than  a  walking  funeral. 
But  Chuffey,  heaven  help  him  !  heard  no  sound  but  the 
echoes,  lingering  in  his  own  heart,  of  a  voice  forever  silent. 

"  I  loved  him,"  cried  the  old  man,  sinking  down  upon  the 
grave  when  all  was  done.  "  He  was  very  good  to  me.  Oh, 
my  dear  old  friend  and  master  !  " 

"  Come,  come,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  the  doctor,  "  this  won't 
do  ;  it's  a  clayey  soil,  Mr.  Chuffey,     You  mustn't,  really." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  329 

"  If  it  had  been  the  commonest  thing  we  do,  and  Mr. 
Chuffey  had  been  a  bearer,  gentlemen,"  said  Mould,  cast- 
ing an  imploring  glance  upon  them,  as  he  helped  to  raise  him, 
"  he  couldn't  have  gone  on  worse  than  this." 

"  Be  a  man,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Pecksniff. 

"  Be  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Mould. 

*'  Upon  my  word,  my  good  friend,"  murmured  the  doctor, 
in  a  tone  of  stately  reproof,  as  he  stepped  up  to  the  old  man's 
side,  "  this  is  worse  than  weakness.  This  is  bad,  selfish,  very 
wrong,  Mr.  Chuffey.  You  should  take  example  from  others, 
my  good  sir.  You  forget  that  you  were  not  connected  by 
ties  of  blood  with  our  deceased  friend;  and  that  he  had  a 
very  near  and  dear  relation,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"Ay,  his  own  son!  "  cried  the  old  man,  clasping  his  hands 
with  remarkable  passion.     "  His  own,  own,  only  son!  " 

"  He's  not  right  in  his  head,  you  know,"  said  Jonas,  turn- 
ing pale.  '*  You're  not  to  mind  any  thing  he  says.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  was  to  talk  some  precious  nonsense.  But  don't 
you  mind  him,  any  of  you.  I  don't.  My  father  left  him  to 
my  charge;  and  whatever  he  says  or  does,  that's  enough. 
/'U  take  care  of  him." 

A  hum  of  admiration  rose  from  the  mourners  (including 
Mr.  Mould  and  his  merry  men),  at  this  new  instance  of  mag- 
nanimity and  kind-feeling  on  the  part  of  Jonas.  But  Chuf- 
fey put  it  to  the  test  no  further.  He  said  not  a  word  more, 
and  being  left  to  himself  a  little  while,  crept  back  again  to 
the  coach. 

It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Jonas  turned  pale  when  the 
behavior  of  the  old  clerk  attracted  general  attention;  his 
discomposure,  however,  was  but  momentary,  and  he  soon 
recovered.  But  these  were  not  the  only  changes  he  had 
exhibited  that  day.  The  curious  eyes  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
observed  that  as  soon  as  they  left  the  house  upon  their 
mournful  errand  he  began  to  mend;  that  as  the  ceremonies 
proceeded  he  gradually,  by  little  and  little,  recovered  his  old 
condition,  his  old  looks,  his  old  bearing,  his  old  agreeable 
characteristics  of  speech  and  manner,  and  became,  in  all 
respects,  his  old  pleasant  self.  And  now  that  they  were 
seated  in  the  coach  on  their  return  home;  and  more  when 
they  got  there,  and  found  the  windows  open,  the  light  and 
air  admitted,  and  all  traces  of  the  late  event  removed;  he 
felt  so  well  convinced  that  Jonas  was  again  the  Jonas  he  had 
known  a  week  ago,  and  not  the  Jonas  of  the  intervening 
time,    that    he    voluntarily    gave    up    his    recently-acquired 


330  "MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

power  without  one  faint  attempt  to  exercise  it,  and  at  once 
fell  back  into  his  former  position  of  mild  and  deferential 
guest. 

Mrs.  Gamp  went  home  to  the  bird-fancier's,  and  was 
knocked  up  again  that  very  night  for  a  birth  of  twins;  Mr. 
Mould  dined  gayly  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  and  passed 
the  evening  facetiously  at  his  club;  the  hearse,  after  stand- 
ing for  a  long  time  at  the  door  of  a  roistering  pBblic-house, 
repaired  to  its  stables  with  the  feathers  inside  and  twelve 
red-nosed  undertakers  on  the  roof,  each  holding  on  by  a 
dingy  peg,  to  which,  in  times  of  state,  a  waving  plume  was 
fitted;  the  various  trappings  of  sorrow  were  carefully  laid 
by  in  presses  for  the  next  hirer;  the  fiery  steeds  were 
quenched  and  quiet  in  their  stalls;  the  doctor  got  merry 
with  wine  at  a  wedding-dinner,  and  forgot  the  middle  of 
the  story  which  had  no  end  to  it;  the  pageant  of  a  few  short 
hours  ago  was  written  nowhere  half  so  legibly  as  in  the 
undertaker's  books. 

Not  in  the  churchyard  ?  Not  even  there.  The  gates 
were  closed;  the  night  was  dark  and  wet;  the  rain  fell 
silently  among  the  stagnant  weeds  and  nettles.  One  new 
mound  was  there  which  had  not  been  there  last  night. 
Time,  burrowing  like  a  mole  below  the  ground,  had  marked 
his  track  by  throv/ing  up  another  heap  of  earth.  And  that 
was  all. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

IS    A    CHAPTER    OF    LOVE. 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  Jonas,  taking  off  his  hat  to  see  that  the 
black  crape  band  was  all  right,  and  finding  that  it  was,  put- 
ting it  on  again,  complacently,  *'  what  do  you  mean  to  give 
your  daughters  when  they  marry  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Jonas,"  cried  the  affectionate  parent,  with 
an  ingenuous  smile,  'Svhat  a  very  singular  inquiry!  " 

''  Now,  don't  you  mind  whether  it's  a  singular  inquiry  or 
a  plural  one,"  retorted  Jonas,  eyding  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  no 
great  favor,  ''  but  answer  it,  or  let  it  alone.  One  or  the 
other." 

"  Hum!  The  question,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, laying  his  hand  tenderly  upon  his  kinsman's  knee,  "  is 
involved  with  many  considerations.  What  would  I  give 
them  ?     Eh  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  331 

"Ah!  what  would  you  give  'em  ?  "  repeated  Jonas. 

"  Why,  that,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  *'  would  naturally  depend 
in  a  great  measure  upon  the  kind  of  husbands  they  might 
choose,  my  dear  young  friend." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  evidently  disconcerted,  and  at  a  loss  how 
to  proceed.  It  was  a  good  answer.  It  seemed  a  deep  one, 
but  such  is  the  wisdom  of  simplicity  ! 

"  My  standard  for  the  merits  I  would  i  equire  in  a  son-in- 
law,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  short  silence,  "is  a  high  one. 
Forgive  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Jonas,"  he  added,  greatly  moved, 
**  if  I  say  you  have  spoiled  me,  and  made  it  a  fanciful  one  ; 
an  imaginative  one  ;  or  a  pnsmatically  tinged  one,  if  I  may  be 
permitted  to  call  it  so." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  growled  Jonas,  looking 
at  him  with  increased  disfavor. 

•  "  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  you  may 
well  inquire.  The  heart  is  not  always  a  royal  mint,  with 
patent  machinery  to  work  its  metal  into  current  coin.  Some- 
times it  throws  it  out  in  strange  forms,  not  easily  recognized 
as  coin  at  all.  But  it  is  sterling  gold.  It  has  at  least  that 
merit.     It  is  sterling  gold." 

"Is  it?"  grumbled  Jonas,  with  a  doubtful  shake  of  the 
head. 

"Ay  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  warming  with  his  subject,  "it 
is.  To  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Jonas,  if  I  could  find  two 
such  sons-in-law  as  you  will  one  day  make  to  some  deserving 
man,  capable  of  appreciating  a  nature  such  as  yours,  I  would 
— forgetful  of  myself — bestow  upon  my  daughters,  portions 
reaching  to  the  very  utmost  limit  of  my  means." 

This  was  strong  language,  and  it  was  earnestly  delivered. 
But  who  can  wonder  that  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after 
all  he  had  seen  and  heard  of  Mr.  Jonas,  should  be 
strong  and  earnest  upon  such  a  theme  ;  a  theme  that  touched 
even  the  worldly  lips  of  undertakers  with  the  honey  of  elo- 
quence ! 

Mr.  Jonas  was  silent,  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  land- 
scape. For  they  were  seated  on  the  outside  of  tTie  coach,  at 
the  back,  and  were  traveling  down  into  the  country.  He 
accompanied  Mr.  Pecksniff  home  for  a  few  days'  change  of 
air  and  scene  after  his  recent  trials. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  with  captivating  bluntness,  "  sup- 
pose you  got  one  such  son-in-law  as  me,  what  then  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  regarded  him  at  first  with  inexpressible  sur- 
prise ;  then  gradually  breaking  into  a  sort  of  de;c:ctecj  \  uac- 
ity,  said ; 


332  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  Then  well  I  know  whose  husband  he  would  be  ! " 

'*  Whose  ?  "  asked  Jonas,  drily. 

*'  My  eldest  girl's,  Mr.  Jonas,"  replied  Pecksniff,  with 
moistening  eyes.  ''  My  dear  Cherry's  ;  my  staff,  my  scrip, 
my  treasure,  Mr.  Jonas.  A  hard  struggle,  but  it  is  the 
nature  of  things  !  I  must  one  day  part  with  her  to  a  hus- 
band.    I  know  it,  my  dear  friend.     I  am  prepared  for  it." 

"  Ecod  !  you've  been  prepared  for  that  a  pretty  long  time, 
I  should  think,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Many  have  sought  to  bear  her  from  me,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff. "  All  have  failed.  '  I  never  will  give  my  hand,  papa  ' 
— those  were  her  words — unless  my  heart  is  won.'  She  has 
not  been  quite  so  happy  as  she  used  to  be,  of  late.  I  don't 
know  why." 

Again  Mr.  Jonas  looked  at  the  landscape  ;  and  then  at 
the  coachman  ;  then  at  the  luggage  on  the  roof  ;  finally  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  part  with  the  other  one,  some 
of  these  days  ? "  he  observed,  as  he  caught  that  gentleman's 
eye. 

"  Probably,"  said  the  parent.  "  Years  will  tame  down  the 
wildness  of  my  foolish  bird,  and  then  it  will  be  caged.  But 
Cherry,  Mr.  Jonas,  Cherry." 

''  Oh,  ah  !  "  interrupted  Jonas.  "  Years  have  made  her 
all  right  enough.  Nobody  doubts  that.  But  you  haven't 
answered  what  I  asked  you.  Of  course,  you're  not  obliged 
to  do  it,  you  know,  if  you  don't  like.  You're  the  best 
judge." 

There  was  a  warning  sulkiness  in  the  manner  of  this  speech, 
which  admonished  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  his  dear  friend  was  not 
to  be  trifled  with  or  fenced  off,  and  that  he  must  either  return 
a  straightforward  reply  to  his  question,  or  plainly  give  him  to 
understand  that  he  declined  to  enlighten  him  upon  the  sub- 
ject to  which  it  referred.  Mindful  in  this  dilemma  of  the 
caution  old  Anthony  had  given  him  almost  with  his  latest 
breath,  he«  resolved  to  speak  to  the  point,  and  so  told  Mr. 
Jonas  (enlarging  upon  the  communication  as  a  proof  of  his 
great  attachment  and  confidence),  that  in  the  case  he  had 
put ;  to  wit,  in  the  event  of  such  a  man  as  he  proposing  for 
his  daughter's  hand,  he  would  endow  her  with  a  fortune  of 
four  thousand  pounds. 

*'I  should  sadly  pinch  and  cramp  myself  to  do  so,"  was 
his  fatherly  remark  ;  "  but  that  would  be  my  duty,  and  my 
conscience  would  reward  mc.     For  myself,  my  conscience  is 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  ^t,^ 

my  bank.     I  have  a  trifle  invested  there,   a  mere  trifle,  Mr 
Jonas  ;  but  I  prize  it  as  a  store  of  vahie,  I  assure  you." 

The  good  man's  enemies  would  have  divided  upon  this 
question  into  two  parties.  One  would  have  asserted  without 
scruple  that  if  Mr.  Pecksniff's  conscience  were  his  bank,  and 
he  kept  a  running  account  there,  he  must  have  overdrawn  it 
beyond  all  mortal  means  of  computation.  The  other  would 
have  contended  that  it  was  a  mere  fictitious  form;  a  perfectly 
blank  book;  or  one  in  which  entries  were  only  made  with  a 
peculiar  kind  of  invisible  ink  to  become  legible  at  some 
indefinite  time;  and  that  he  never  troubled  it  at  all. 

*'  It  would  sadly  pinch  and  cramp  me,  my  dear  friend," 
repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  but  Providence,  perhaps  I  may  be 
permitted  to  say  a  special  Providence,  has  blessed  my 
endeavors,  and  I  could  guarantee  to  make  the  sacrifice." 

A  question  of  philosophy  arises  here,  whether  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff had  or  had  not  good  reason  to  say,  that  he  was  spe- 
cially patronized  and  encouraged  in  his  undertakings.  All 
his  life  long  he  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the  narrow 
ways  and  by-places,  with  a  hook  in  one  hand  and  a  crook 
in  the  other,  scraping  all  sorts  of  valuable  odds  and  ends 
into  his  pouch.  Now,  there  being  a  special  Providence  in 
the  fall  of  a  sparrow,  it  follows  (so  Mr.  Pecksnift",  and  only 
such  admirable  men,  would  have  reasoned),  that  there  must 
also  be  a  special  Providence  in  the  alighting  of  the  stone, 
or  stick,  or  other  substance  which  is  aimed  at  the  sparrow. 
And  Mr.  Pecksniff's  hook,  or  crook,  having  invariably 
knocked  the  sparrow  on  the  head  and  brought  him  down, 
that  gentleman  may  have  been  led  to  consider  himself  as 
specially  licensed  to  bag  sparrows,  and  as  being  specially 
seized  and  possessed  of  all  the  birds  he  had  got  together. 
That  many  undertakings,  national  as  well  as  individual — 
but  especially  the  former — are  held  to  be  specially  brought 
to  a  glorious  and  successful  issue,  which  never  could  be  so 
regarded  on  any  other  process  of  reasoning,  must  be  clear 
to  all  men.  Therefore  the  precedents  would  seem  to  show 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  (as  things  go)  good  argument  for 
what  he  said,  and  might  be  permitted  to  say  it,  and  did  not 
say  it  presumptuously,  vainly,  or  arrogantly,  but  in  a  spirit 
of  high  faith  and  great  wisdom. 

Mr.  Jonas,  not  being  much  accustomed  to  perplex  his 
mind  with  theories  of  this  nature,  expressed  no  opinion  on 
the  subject.  Nor  did  he  receive  his  companion's  announce- 
ment with  one  solitary  syllable,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent.     He 


334  MARTIN  CHU/ZLEWIT, 

preserved  this  taciturnity  for  a  qiiartei  of  an  nuur  at  least, 
and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  appeared  to  be  steadily 
engaged  in  subjecting  some  given  arrount  to  the  operation 
of  every  known  rule  in  figures;  adding  to  it,  taking  fiom  it, 
multiplying  it,  reducing  it  by  long  and  short  division  .vork- 
ing  it  by  the  rule-of-three  direct  and  inversed;  exch^.iieje  or 
barter;  practice;  simple  interest;  compound  interest  and 
other  means  of  arithmetical  calculation.  The  result  of 
these  labors  appeared  to  be  satisfactory,  for  when  he  did 
break  silence,  it  was  as  one  who  had  arrived  at  some  specific 
result,  and  freed  himself  from  a  state  of  distressing  uncer- 
tainty. 

**  Come,  old  Pecksniff!  "  Such  was  his  jocose  address,  as 
he  slapped  that  gentleman  on  the  back,  at  the  end  of  the 
stage;  ''let's  have  something!  " 

*^With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
**  Let's  treat  the  driver,"  cried  Jonas. 

"  If  you  think  it  won't  hurt  the  man,  or  render  him  dis- 
contented with  his  station;  certainly,"  faltered  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
Jonas  only  laughed  at  this,  and  getting  down  from  the 
coach-top  with  great  alacrity,  cut  a  cumbersome  kind  of 
caper  in  the  road.  After  which,  he  went  into  the  public- 
house,  and  there  ordered  spirituous  drink  to  such  an  extent, 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  some  doubts  of  his  perfect  sanity, 
until  Jonas  set  them  quite  at  rest  by  saying,  when  the  coach 
would  wait  no  longer: 

"  I've  been  standing  treat  for  a  whole  week  and  more,  and 
letting  you  have  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season.  Vou  shall 
pay  for  this,  Pecksniff."  It  was  not  a  joke,  either,  as  Mr. 
Pecksniff  at  first  supposed;  for  he  went  off  to  the  coach 
without  further  ceremony,  and  left  his  respected  victim  to 
settle  the  bill. 

But  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  man  of  meek  endurance,  and  Mr. 
Jonas  was  his  friend.  Moreover,  his  regard  for  that  gentle- 
man was  founded,  as  we  know,  on  pure  esteem,  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  excellence  of  his  character.  He  came  out  from 
the  tavern  with  a  smiling  face,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to 
repeat  the  performance,  on  a  less  expensive  scale,  at  the  next 
ale-house.  There  was  a  certain  wildness  in  the  spirits  of  Mr. 
Jonas  (not  usually  a  part  of  his  character)  which  was  far 
from  being  subdued  by  these  means,  and,  for  the  rest  of  the 
journey,  he  was  so  very  buoyant — it  may  be  said,  boisterous 
— that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  some  difficulty  in  keei)ing  pace  with 
him. 


>  >      O  »      >       3 


IMARIIX  CHUZZLEWIT.  335 

Tliev  were  not  expected.  Oh  dear,  no  !  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  proposed  in  London  to  give  the  girls  a  surprise,  and 
had  said  he  wouldn't  write  a  word  to  prepare  them  on  any 
account,  in  order  that  he  and  Mr,  Jonas  might  take  them 
unawares,  and  just  see  what  they  were  doing,  when  they 
thought  their  dear  papa  was  miles  and  miles  away.  As  a 
consequence  of  this  playful  device,  there  was  nobody  to  meet 
them  at  the  finger-post,  but  that  was  of  small  consequence, 
for  they  had  come  down  by  the  day  coach,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  onlv  a  carpet-bag,  while  Mr.  Jonas  had  only  a  portman- 
teau. They  took  the  portmanteau  between  them,  put  the 
bag  upon  it,  and  walked  off  up  the  lane  without  delay  ;  Mr. 
Pecksniff  already  going  on  tiptoe  as  if,  without  this  precau- 
tion, his  fond  children,  being  then  at  a  distance  of  a  couple 
of  miles  or  so,  would  have  some  filial  sense  of  his  approach. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening,  in  the  spring-time  of  the  year  ; 
and  in  the  soft  stillness  of  the  twilight,  all  nature  was  very 
caln:  and  beautiful.  The  day  had  been  fine  and  warm;  but 
at  the  coming  on  of  night,  the  air  grew  cool,  and  in  the  mel- 
lowing distance,  smoke  was  rising  gently  from  the  cottage 
chimneys.  There  were  a  thousand  pleasant  scents  diffused 
around,  from  young  leaves  and  fresh  buds  ;  the  cuckoo  had 
been  singing  all  day  long,  and  was  but  just  now  hushed;  the 
smell  of  ear*:h  newly-upturned,  first  breath  of  hope  to  the  first 
laborer,  after  his  garden  withered,  was  fragrant  in  the  even- 
ing breeze.  It  was  a  time  when  most  men  cherish  good 
resolves,  and  sorrovrs  for  the  wasted  past  ;  when  most  men, 
looking  on  the  shadows,  as  they  gather,  think  of  that  even- 
ins  which  must  close  on  all,  and  that  to-morrow  w^hich  has 
none  beyond. 

"  Precious  dull,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  looking  about.  '*  It's 
enough  to  make  a  man  go  melancholy  mad." 

"  We  shall  have  lights  and  a  fire  soon,"  observed  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  We  shall  need  'em  by  the  time  we  get  there,"  said  Jonas. 
"  Why  the  devil  don't  vou  talk  ?  What  are  you  thinking 
off?" 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Pecksniff,  with 
great  solemnity,  "  my  mind  was  running  at  that  moment  on 
our  late  dear  friend,  your  departed  father." 

Mr.  Jonas  immediately  let  his  burden  fall,  and  said, 
threatening  him  with  his  hand  : 

"  Drop  that,  Pecksniff  I  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff'  not  exactly  knowing  whether  allusion  was 


336  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

made  to  the  subject  or  the  portmanteau,  stared  at  his  friend 
in  unaffected  surprise, 

"  Drop  it,  I  say  !  "  cried  Jonas  fiercely.  *' Do  you  hear  ? 
Drop  it,  now  and  forever.  You  had  better,  I  give  you 
notice  !  " 

"  It  was  quite  a  mistake,"  urged  Mr.  Pecksniff,  very  much 
dismayed  ;  *'  though  I  admit  it  was  foolish.  I  might  have 
known  it  was  a  tender  string." 

'*  Don't  talk  to  me  about  tender  strings,"  said  Jonas,  **  I'm 
not  going  to  be  crowed  over  by  you,  because  I  don't  like 
dead   company." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  got  out  the  words  *'  Crowed  over,  Mr. 
Jonas  !  "  when  that  young  man,  with  a  dark  expression  in  his 
countenance,  cut  him  short  once  more  : 

"  Mind  !  "  he  said,  "I  won't  have  it.  I  advise  you  not 
to  revive  the  subject,  neither  to  me  nor  any  body  else.  You 
can  take  a  hint,  if  you  choose,  as  well  as  another  man. 
There's  enough  said  about  it.     Come  along  !  " 

Taking  up  his  part  of  the  load  again,  when  he  had  said 
these  words,  he  hurried  on  so  fast  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  at  the 
other  end  of  the  portmanteau,  found  himself  dragged  for- 
ward, in  a  very  inconvenient  and  ungraceful  manner,  to  the 
great  detriment  of  what  is  called  by  fancy  gentlemen  "  the 
bark  "  upon  his  shins,  which  were  most  unmercifully  bumped 
against  the  hard  leather  and  the  iron  buckles.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  minutes,  however,  Mr.  Jonas  relaxed  his  speed,  and 
suffered  his  companion  to  come  up  with  him,  and  to  bring 
the  portmanteau  into  a  tolerably  straight  position. 

It  was  pretty  clear  that  he  regretted  his  late  outbreak, 
and  that  he  mistrusted  its  effect  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  for  as 
often  as  that  gentleman  glanced  toward  Mr.  Jonas,  he  found 
Mr.  Jonas  glancing  at  him,  which  was  a  new  source  of  embar- 
rassment. It  was  but  a  short-lived  one,  though,  for  Mr. 
Jonas  soon  began  to  whistle,  whereupon  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tak- 
ing his  cue  from  his  friend,  began  to  hum  a  tune  melodiously. 

"  Pretty  nearly  there,  ain't  we  ?  "  said  Jonas,  when  this 
had  lasted  some  time. 

"  Close,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksaiff. 

"  What'U  they  be  doing,  do  you  suppose  ? "  asked  Jonas. 

''Impossible  to  say,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Giddy  tru- 
ants !  They  may  be  away  from  home,  perhaps.  I  was  going  to 
— he  !  he  !  he  ! — I  was  going  to  propose,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
**  that  we  should  enter  by  the  back  way,  and  come  upon 
them  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  Mr.  Jonas." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  *   337 

It  might  not  have  been  easy  to  decide  in  respect  of  which 
of  their  manifold  properties,  Jonas,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  car- 
pet-bag, and  the  portmanteau,  could  be  likened  to  a  clap  of 
thunder.  But  Mr.  Jonas  giving  his  assent  to  this  proposal, 
they  stole  round  into  the  back  yard,  and  softly  advanced 
toward  the  kitchen  window  through  which  the  mingled  light 
of  fire  and  candle  shone  upon  the  darkening  night. 

Truly  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  blessed  in  his  children.  In  one  of 
them,  at  any  rate.  The  prudent  Cherry — staff  and  scrip 
and  treasure  of  her  doting  father — there  she  sits,  at  a  little 
table  white  as  driven  snow,  before  the  kitchen  fire,  making 
up  accounts  I  See  the  neat  maiden,  as  with  pen  in  hand,  and 
calculating  look  addressed  toward  the  ceiling,  and  bunch  of 
keys  within  a  little  basket  at  her  side,  she  checks  the  house- 
keeping expenditure  !  From  flat-iron,  dish-cover,  and  warm- 
ing-pan ;  from  pot  and  kettle,  face  of  brass  footman,  and 
black-leaded  stove  ;  bright  glances  of  approbation  wink  and 
glow  upon  her.  The  very  onions  dangling  from  the  beam, 
mantle  and  shine  like  cherub's  cheeks.  Something  of  the 
influence  of  those  vegetables  sinks  into  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
nature.     He  weeps. 

It  is  but  for  a  moment,  and  he  hides  it  from  the  observa- 
tion of  his  friend — very  carefully — by  a  somewhat  elaborate 
use  of  his  pocket-handkerchief,  in  fact  ;  for  he  would  not 
have  his  weakness  known. 

"  Pleasant,"  he  murmured,  ''  pleasant  to  a  father's  feelings! 
My  dear  girl  !  Shall  we  let  her  know  we  are  here,  Mr. 
Jonas  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  suppose  you  don't  mean  to  spend  the  evening  in 
the  stable  or  the  coach-house,"  he  returned. 

"  That,  indeed,  is  not  such  hospitality  as  I  would  show  to 
you^  my  friend,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pressing  his  hand. 
And  then  he  took  a  long  breath,  and  tapping  at  the  window, 
shouted  with  stentorian  blandness  : 

"  Boh  !  " 

Cherry  dropped  her  pen  and  screamed.  But  innocence 
is  ever  bold,  or  should  be.  As  they  opened  the  door,  the 
valiant  girl  exclaimed  in  a  firm  voice,  and  with  a  presence 
of  mind  which  even  in  that  trying  moment  did  not  desert 
her,  "  Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  Speak  !  Or  I  will 
call  my  pa." 

J^Ir.  Pecksniff  held  out  his  arms.  She  knew  him  instantly, 
and  rushed  into  his  fond  embrace. 

**  It  was  thoughtless  of  us,  Mr.  Jonas,  it  was  very  thought- 


33^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

less,"  said  Pecksniff,  smoothing  his  daughter's  hair.  "  My 
darling,  do  you  see  that  I  am  not  alone  !  " 

Not  she.  She  had  seen  nothing  but  her  father  until  now. 
She  saw  Mr.  Jonas  now,  though  ;  and  blushed,  and  hung 
her  head  down,  as  she  gave  him  welcome. 

But  where  was  Merry  ?  Mr.  Pecksniff  didn't  ask  the  ques- 
tion in  reproach,  but  in  a  vein  of  mildness  touched  with  a 
gentle  sorrow.  She  was  up-stairs,  reading  on  the  parlor 
couch.  Ah  !  Domestic  details  had  no  charm  for  her.  "  But 
call  her  down,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  placid  resignation. 
"  Call  her  down,  my  love." 

She  was  called  and  came,  all  flushed  and  tumbled  from 
reposing  on  the  sofa  ;  but  none  the  worse  for  that.  No,  not 
at  all.     Rather  the  better,  if  any  thing. 

*'  Oh  my  goodness  me  !  "  cried  the  arch  girl,  turning  to 
her  cousin  when  she  had  kissed  her  father  on  both  cheeks, 
and  in  her  frolicsome  nature  had  bestowed  a  supernumerary 
salute  upon  the  tip  of  his  nose,  ^^ you  here,  fright  !  Well,  I'm 
very  thankful  that  you  won't  trouble  ftie  much  ! " 

"  What  !  you're  as  lively  as  ever,  are  you  ?  "  said  Jonas. 
"  Oh  !  You're  a  wicked  one  !  " 

**  There,  go  along  !  "  retorted  Merry,  pushing  him  away. 
"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  ever  do,  if  I  have  to 
see  much  of  you.     Go  along,  for  gracious'  sake  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  striking  in  here,  with  a  request  that  Mr. 
Jonas  would'immediately  walk  up-stairs,  he  so  far  complied 
with  the  young  lady's  adjuration  as  to  go  at  once.  But 
though  he  had  the  fair  Cherry  on  his  arm,  he  could  not  help 
looking  back  at  her  sister,  and  exchanging  some  further  dia- 
logue of  the  same  bantering  description,  as  they  all  four 
ascended  to  the  parlor  ;  where — for  the  young  ladies  hap- 
pened, by  good  fortune,  to  be  a  little  later  than  usual 
that  night — the  tea-board  was  at  that  moment  being  set 
out. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  not  at  home,  so  they  had  it  all  to  them- 
selves, and  were  very  snug  and  talkative,  Jonas  sitting 
between  the  two  sisters,  and  displaying  his  gallantry  in  that 
engaging  manner  which  was  peculiar  to  him.  It  was  a  hard 
thing,  Mr.  Pecksniff  said,  when  the  tea  was  done,  and  cleared 
away,  to  leave  so  pleasant  a  little  party,  but  having  some  im- 
portant papers  to  examine  in  his  own  apartment,  he  must  beg 
them  to  excuse  him  for  half  an  hour.  With  this  apology  he 
withdrew,  singing  a  careless  strain  as  he  went.  He  had  not 
been  gone  five  minutes  when  Merry,  who  had  been  sitting  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  339 

the  window,  apart  from  Jonas  and  her  sister,  burst  into  a 
half-smothered  laugh,  and  skipped  toward  the  door. 

''  Hallo,"  cried  Jonas.     "  Don't  go." 

''  Oh,  I  dare  say!  "  rejoined  Merry,  looking  back.  *'  You're 
very  anxious  I  should  stay,  fright,  ain't  you  ?" 

**  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Jonas.  *'  Upon  my  word  I  am.  I  want 
to  speak  to  you."  But  as  she  left  the  room  notwithstanding, 
he  ran  out  after  her,  and  brought  her  back,  after  a  short 
struggle  in  the  passage  which  scandalized  Miss  Cherry  very 
much. 

"  Upon  my  word.  Merry,"  urged  that  young  lady,  "  I  won- 
der at  you  !  There  are  bounds  even  to  absurdity,  my 
dear." 

"  Thank  you,  my  sweet,"  said  Merry,  pursing  up  her  rosy 
lips.  "  Much  obliged  to  it  for  it's  advice.  Oh  !  do  leave  me 
alone,  you  monster,  do  !  "  This  entreaty  was  wrung  from  her 
by  a  new  proceeding  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Jonas,  who  pulled  her 
down,  all  breathless  as  she  was,  into  a  seat  beside  him  on 
the  sofa,  having  at  the  same  time  Miss  Cherry  upon  the  other 
side. 

**  Now,"  said  Jonas,  clasping  the  waist  of  each;  "  I  have 
got  both  arms  full,  haven't  I  ! " 

**  One  of  them  will  be  black  and  blue  to-morrow,  if  you 
don't  let  me  go,"  cried  playful  Merry. 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  mind  your  pinching,"  grinned  Jonas,  "  a 
bit." 

'*  Pinch  him  for  me.  Cherry,  pray,"  said  Mercy.  "I  never 
did  hate  any  body  so  much  as  I  hate  this  creature,  I 
declare  !  " 

"No,  no,  don't  say  that,"  urged  Jonas,  "and  don't 
pinch  either,  because  I  want  to  be  serious.  I  say  !  Cousin 
Charity  !  " 

**  Well  !  what  ?  "  she  answered  sharply. 

"  I  want  to  have  some  sober  talk,"  said  Jonas;  "  I  want 
to  prevent  any  mistakes,  you  know,  and  to  put  every  thing 
upon  a  pleasant  understanding.  That's  desirable  and  proper, 
ain't  it ! " 

Neither  of  the  sisters  spoke  a  word.  Mr.  Jonas  paused 
and  cleared  his  throat,  which  was  very  dry. 

*'  She'll  not  believe  what  I  am  going  to  say,  will  she, 
cousin  ?  "  said    Jonas,  timidly  squeezing  Miss  Charity. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Jonas,  I  don't  know,  until  I  hear  what  it  is. 
It's  quite  impossible  !  " 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  Jonas,  "  her   way   always  being  to 


340  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  , 

make  game  of  people,  I  know  she'll  laugh,  or  pretend  to  ;  I 
know  that,  beforehand.  But  you  can  tell  her  I'm  in  earnest, 
cousin;  can't  you!  You'll  confess  you  know,  won't  you? 
You'll  be  honorable,  I'm  sure,"  he  added  persuasively. 

N.O  answer!  His  throat  seemed  to  grow  hotter  and  hot- 
ter, and  to  be  more  and  more  difficult  of  control. 

"  You  see,  Cousin  Charity,"  said  Jonas,  "  nobody  but  you 
can  tell  her  what  pains  I  took  to  get  into  her  company  when 
you  were  both  at  the  boarding  house  in  the  city,  because 
nobody's  so  well  aware  of  it,  you  know.  Nobody  else  can 
tell  her  how  hard  I  tried  to  get  to  know  you  better,  m  order 
that  I  might  get  to  know  her  without  seeming  to  wish  it; 
can  they  ?  I  always  asked  you  about  her,  and  said  where 
had  she  gone,  and  when  would  she  come,  and  how  lively 
she  was,  and  all  that;  didn't  I,  cousin  ?  I  know  you'd 
tell  her  so,  if  you  haven't  told  her  so  already,  and — and — I 
dare  say  vou  have,  because  I'm  sure  you're  honorable,  ain't 
you  ? " 

Still  not  a  word.  The  right  arm  of  Mr.Jonas — the  elder 
sister  sat  upon  his  right — may  have  been  sensible  of  some 
tumultuous  throbbing  which  was  not  within  itself;  but  noth- 
ing else  apprised  hkn  that  his  words  had  had  the  least  effect. 

"  Even  if  you  kept  it  to  yourself,  and  haven't  told  her," 
resumed  Jonas,  *'  it  don't  much  matter,  because  you'll  bear 
honest  witness  now  ;  won't  you  ?  We've  been  very  good 
friends  from  the  first;  haven't  we  ?  And  of  course  we  shall 
be  quite  friends  in  future,  and  so  I  don't  mind  speaking 
before  you  a  bit.  Cousin  Mercy,  you've  heard  what  I've  been 
saying.  She'll  confirm  it,  every  word;  she  must.  Will  you 
have  me  for  your  husband  ?     Eh  ?" 

As  he  released  his  hold  of  Charity,  to  put  this  question 
with  better  effect,  she  started  up  and  hurried  away  to  her  own 
room,  marking  her  progress  as  she  went  by  such  a  train  of 
passionate  and  incoherent  sound,  as  nothing  but  a  slighted 
woman  in  her  anger  could  produce. 

^'  Let  me  go  away.  Eet  me  go  after  her,"  said  Merry, 
pushing  him  off,  and  giving  him — to  tell  the  truth — more  than 
one  sounding  slap  upon  his  outstretched  face. 

*'  Not  till  you  say  yes.  You  haven't  told  me.  Will  you 
have  me  for  your  husband  !  " 

"  No,  I  won't.  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  you.  I  have  told 
you  so  a  hundred  times.  You  are  a  fright.  Besides,  I  always 
thought  you  liked  my  sister  best.     We  all  thought  so." 

^'  But  that  wasn't  my  fault,"  said  Jonas. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  341 

"  Yes  it  was  ;  you  know  it  was." 

"  Any  trick  is  fair  in  love,"  said  Jonas.  **  She  may  have 
thought  I  liked  her  best,  but  you  didn't." 

"  1  did  !  " 

"  No,  you  didn't.  You  never  could  have  thought  I  liked 
her  best,  when  you  were  by." 

"  There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  said  Merry  ;  "at 
least  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that.  I  don't  know  what  I  mean. 
Let  me  go  to  her." 

"Say  'Yes,'  and  then  I  will." 

"If  I  ever  brought  myself  to  say  so,  it  should  only  be, 
that  I  might  hate  and  tease  you  all  my  life." 

"  That's  as  good,"  cried  Jonas,  "  as  saying  it  right  out. 
It's  a  bargain,  cousin.     We're  a  pair,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

This  gallant  speech  was  succeeded  by  a  confused  noise 
of  kissing  and  slapping ;  and  then  the  fair,  but  much 
disheveled  Merry,  broke  away,  and  followed  in  the  foot- 
steps of  her  sister.  Now  whether  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been 
listening — which  in  one  of  his  character  appears  impossible, 
or  divined  almost  by  inspiration  what  the  matter  was — 
which,  in  a  man  of  his  sagacity  is  far  more  probable,  or 
happened  by  sheer  good  fortune  to  find  himself  in  exactly 
the  right  place,  at  precisely  the  right  time — which  under  the 
special  guardianship  in  which  he  lived  might  very  reasonably 
happen,  it  is  quite  certain  that  at  the  moment  when  the 
sisters  came  together  in  their  own  room,  he  appeared  at  the 
chamber  door.  And  a  marvelous  contrast  it  was.  They  so 
heated,  noisy,  and  vehement ;  he  so  calm,  so  self-possessed, 
so  cool  and  full  of  peace,  that  not  a  hair  upon  his  head  was 
stirred. 

"  Children  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  spreading  out  his  hands 
in  wonder,  but  not  before  he  had  shut  the  door,  and  set 
his  back  against  it.     "  Girls  !     Daughters  !     What  is  this  !  " 

"  The  wretch  ;  the  apostate  ;  the  false,  mean,  odious  vil- 
lain ;  has  before  my  very  face  proposed  to  Mercy  !  "  was 
his  eldest  daughter's  answer. 

"Who  has  proposed  to  Mercy?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  ^(?  has.     That  thing.     Jonas,  down-stairs." 

"  Jonas  proposed  to  Mercy  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ay, 
ay  !     Indeed  ?  " 

"  Have  you  nothing  else  to  say  ? "  cried  Charity.  "  Am 
I  to  be  driven  mad,  papa  ?  He  has  proposed  to  Mercy, 
not  to  me." 

"  Oh,  fie  !     For   shame  !  "    said  Mr.    Pecksniff,  gravely. 


342  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

'*  Oh,  for  shame  !  Can  the  triumph  of  a  sister  move  you  to 
this  terrible  display,  my  child  ?  Oh,  really  this  is  very 
sad  !  I  am  sorry  ;  1  am  surprised  and  hurt  to  see  you  so. 
Mercy,  my  girl,  bless  you  !  See  to  her.  Ah,  envy,  envy, 
what  a  passion  you  are  !  " 

Uttering  this  apostrophe  in  a  tone  full  of  grief  and  lamen- 
tation, Mr.  Pecksniff  left  the  room  (taking  care  to  shut  the 
door  behind  him),  and  walked  down  stairs  into  the  parlor. 
There  he  found  his  intended  son-in-law,  whom  he  seized  by 
both  hands. 

"  Jonas  !  "cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Jonas  !  the  dearest  wish 
of  my  heart  is  now  fulfilled  !  " 

"Very  well  ;  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Jonas.  "That'll 
do.  I  say!  As  it  ain't  the  one  you're  so  fond  of,  you  must 
come  down  with  another  thousand,  Pecksniff.  You  must 
make  it  up  five.  It's  worth  that,  to  keep  your  treasure  to 
yourself,  you  know.  You  get  off  very  cheap  that  way,  and 
haven't  a  sacrifice  to  make. 

The  grin  with  which  he  accompanied  this,  set  off  his 
other  attractions  to  such  unspeakable  advantage,  that  even 
Mr.  Pecksniff  lost  his  presence  of  mind  for  a  moment,  and 
looked  at  the  young  man  as  if  he  were  quite  stupefied  with 
wonder  and  admiration.  But  he  quickly  regained  his  com- 
posure, and  was  in  the  very  act  of  changing  the  subject, 
when  a  hasty  step  was  heard  without,  and  Tom  Pinch,  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement,  came  darting  into  the  room. 

On  seeing  a  stranger  there,  apparently  engaged  with  Mr. 
Pecksniff  in  private  conversation,  Tom  was  very  much 
abashed,  though  he  still  looked  as  if  he  had  something  of 
great  importance  to  communicate,  which  would  be  a  suffi- 
cient apology  for  his  intrusion. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  this  is  hardly  decent. 
You  will  excuse  my  saying  that  I  think  your  conduct 
scarcely  decent,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  "  for  not  knock- 
ing at  the  door." 

*'  Rather  beg  this  gentleman's  pardon,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said 
Pecksniff.  "  J  know  you  ;  he  does  not.  My  young  man, 
Mr.  Jonas." 

The  son-in-law  that  was  to  be  gave  him  a  slight  nod,  not 
actively  disdainful  or  contemptuous,  only  passively,  for  he 
was  in  good  humor. 

*'  Could  I  speak  a  word  with  you,  sir,  if  you  please  ? " 
said  Tom.     "  It's  rather  pressing." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  343 

*'  It  should  be  very  pressing  to  justify  this  strange  behav- 
ior, Mr.  Pinch,"  returned  his  master.  "  Excuse  me  for  one 
moment,  my  dear  friend.  Now,  sir,  what  is  the  reason  of 
this  rough  intrusion  ?" 

''  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  1  am  sure,"  said  Tom,  standing, 
cap  in  hand,  before  his  patron  in  the  passage  ;  ''  and  I  know 
it  must  have  a  very  rude  appearance — " 

"  It  has  a  very  rude  appearance,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that,  sir  ;  but  the  truth  is,  I  was  so  surprised 
to  see  them,  and  knew  you  would  be  too,  that  I  ran  home 
very  fast  indeed,  and  really  hadn't  enough  command  over 
myself  to  know  what  I  was  doing  very  well.  I  was  in  the 
church  just  now,  sir,  touching  the  organ  for  my  own  amuse- 
ment, when  I  happened  to  look  round,  and  saw  a  gentleman 
and  lady  standing  in  the  aisle  listening.  They  seemed  to 
be  strangers,  sir,  as  well  as  I  could  make  out  in  the  dusk  ; 
and  I  thought  I  didn't  know  them  ;  so  presently  I  left  off, 
and  said,  would  they  walk  up  into  the  organ-loft,  or  take  a 
seat  ?  No,  they  said  they  wouldn't  do  that ;  but  they  thanked 
me  for  the  music  they  had  heard.  In  fact,"  observed  Tom, 
blushing,  "  they  said,  '  delicious  music  ! '  at  least,  she  did  ; 
and  I  am  sure  that  was  a  greater  pleasure  and  honor  to  me, 
than  any  compliment  I  could  have  had  I — I — beg  your 
pardon,  sir  ;  "  he  was  all  in  a  tremble,  and  dropped  his  hat 
for  the  second  time  ;  '^  but  I — I'm  rather  flurried,  and  I 
fear  I've  wandered  from  the  point." 

^'  If  you  will  come  back  to  it,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, with  an  icy  look,  "  I  shall  feel  obliged." 

*' Yes,  sir,"  returned  Tom,  "certainly.  They  had  a  post- 
ing carriage  at  the  porch,  sir,  and  had  stopped  to  hear  the 
organ,  they  said.  And  then  they  said — she  said,  I  mean,  *  I 
believe  you  live  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sir  ?  '  I  said  I  had  that 
honor,  and  I  took  the  liberty,  sir,"  added  Tom,  raising  his 
eyes  to  his  benefactor's  face,  "  of  saying,  as  I  always  will 
and  must,  with  your  permission,  that  1  was  under  great 
obligations  to  you,  and  never  could  express  my  sense  of 
them  sufficiently." 

''  That,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  was  very,  very  wrong. 
Take  your  time,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  cried  Tom.     "  On  that  they  asked  me 

— she  asked,  I  mean '  Wasn't  there  a  bridle  road  to  Mr. 

Pecksniff's  house — ? '  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  suddenly  became  full  of  interest. 

"  '  Without  going  by  the  Dragon  ? '     When  I  said  there 


344  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

was,  and  said  how  happy  I  should  be  to  show  it  'em,  they 
sent  the  carriage  on  by  the  road,  and  came  with  me  across 
the  meadows.  I  left  'em  at  the  turnstile  to  run  forward  and 
tell  you  they  were  coming,  and  they'll  be  here,  sir,  in — in 
less  than  a  minute's  time,  I  should  say,"  added  Tom,  fetching 
his  breath  with  difficulty. 

'*  Now,  who,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pondering,  "  who  may 
these  people  be  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul,  sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  *'  I  meant  to  mention 
that  at  first,  I  thought  I  had.  I  knew  them — her,  I  mean — 
directly.  The  gentleman  who  was  ill  at  the  Dragon,  sir,  last 
winter  ;  and  the  young  lady  who  attended  him." 

Tom's  teeth  chattered  in  his  head,  and  he  positively  stag- 
gered with  amazement,  at  witnessing  the  extraordinary  effect 
produced  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  by  these  simple  words.  The 
dread  of  losing  the  old  man's  favor  almost  as  soon  as  they 
were  reconciled,  through  the  mere  fact  of  having  Jonas  in 
the  house  ;  the  impossibility  of  dismissing  Jonas,  or  shut- 
ting him  up,  or  tying  him  hand  and  foot  and  putting  him  in 
the  coal-cellar,  without  offending  him — beyond  recall  ;  the 
horrible  discordance  prevailing  in  the  establishment,  and 
the  impossibility  of  reducing  it  to  decent  harmony,  with 
Charity  in  loud  hysterics,  Mercy  in  the  utmost  disorder, 
Jonas  in  the  parlor,  and  Martin  Chuzzlewit  and  his  young 
charge  upon  the  very  door-steps  ;  the  total  hopelessness  of 
being  able  to  disguise  or  feasibly  explain  this  state  of  ram- 
pant confusion  ;  the  sudden  accumulation  over  his  devoted 
head  of  every  complicated  perplexity  and  entanglement  for 
his  extrication  from  which  he  had  trusted  to  time,  good  for- 
tune, chance,  and  his  own  plotting,  so  filled  the  entrapped 
architect  with  dismay,  that  if  Tom  could  have  been  a  Gorgon 
staring  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  have  been 
a  Gorgon  staring  at  Tom,  they  could  not  have  horrified  each 
other  half  so  much  as  in  their  own  bewildered  persons. 

'*  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  Tom,  ^'  what  have  I  done  ?  I  hoped 
it  would  be  a  pleasant  surprise,  sir.  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  know." 

But  at  that  moment  a  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the 
hall  door. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  345 

CHAPlER  XXI. 

MORE  AMERICAN  EXPERIENCES  MARTIN  TAKES  A  PARTNER, 
AND  MAKES  A  PURCHASE.  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  EDEN,  AS  IT 
APPEARED  ON  PAPER.  ALSO  OF  THE  BRITISH  LION.  ^I.SO 
OF  THE  KIND  OF  SYMPATHY  PROFESSED  AND  ENTERTAINEP 
BY  THE  WATERTOAST  ASSOCIATION  OF  UNITED  SYMPA- 
THIZERS. 

The  knocking  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  door,  though  loud  enough, 
bore  no  resemblance  whatever  to  the  noise  of  an  American 
railway  train  at  full  speed.  It  may  be  well  to  begin  the  pres- 
ent chapter  with  this  frank  admission,  lest  the  reader  should 
imagine  that  the  sounds  now  deafening  this  history's  ears 
have  any  connection  with  the  knocker  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
door,  or  with  the  great  amount  of  agitation  pretty  equally 
divided  between  that  worthy  man  and  Mr.  Pinch,  of  whicb 
its  strong  performance  was  the  cause. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  is  more  than  a  thousand  leagues 
away;  and  again  this  happy  chronicle  has  liberty  and  moral 
sensibility  for  its  high  companions.  Again  it  breathes  the 
blessed  air  of  independence  ;  again  it  contemplates  with 
pious  awe  that  moral  sense  which  renders  unto  Csesar  noth- 
ing that  is  his;  again  inhales  that  sacred  atmosphere  which 
was  the  life  of  him — oh  noble  patriot,  with  many  followers  1 
— who  dreamed  of  freedom  in  a  slave's  embrace,  and  waking 
sold  her  offspring  and  his  own  in  public  markets. 

How  the  wheels  clank  and  rattle,  and  the  tram-road 
shakes,  as  the  train  rushes  on  !  x\nd  now  the  engine  yells, 
as  it  were  lashed  and  tortured  like  a  living  laborer,  and 
writhed  in  agony.  A  poor  fancy;  for  steel  and  iron  are  of 
infinitely  greater  account,  in  this  commonwealth  of  flesh  and 
blood.  If  the  cunning  work  of  man  be  urged  beyond  its 
power  of  endurance,  it  has  within  it  the  elements  of  its  own 
revenge;  whereas  the  wretched  mechanism  of  the  divine 
hand  is  dangerous  with  no  such  property,  but  may  be  tam- 
pered with,  and  crushed,  and  broken,  at  the  driver's  pleasure. 
Look  at  that  engine  !  It  shall  cost  a  man  more  dollars  in 
the  way  of  penalty  and  fine,  and  satisfaction  of  the  outraged 
law,  to  deface  in  wantonness  that  senseless  mass  of  metal, 
than  to  take  the  lives  of  twenty  human  creatures  !  Thus  the 
stars  wink  upon  the  bloody  stripes;  and  liberty  pulls  down 
her  cap  on  her  eyes,  and  owns  oppression  in  its  vilest  aspect, 
for  her  sister, 


346  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  engine-driver  of  the  train  whose  noise  awoke  us  to 
the  present  chapter,  was  certainly  troubled  with  no  such 
reflections  as  these;  nor  is  it  very  probable  that  his  mind  was 
disturbed  by  any  reflections  stall.  He  leaned  with  folded 
arms  and  crossed  legs  against  the  side  of  the  carriage,  smok- 
ing; and  except  when  he  expressed,  by  a  grunt  as  short  as 
his  pipe,  his  approval  of  some  particularly  dexterous  aim  on 
the  part  of  his  colleague,  the  fireman,  who  beguiled  his 
leisure  by  throwing  logs  of  wood  from  the  tender  at  the 
numerous  stray  cattle  on  the  line,  he  preserved  a  composure 
so  immovable,  and  an  indifference  so  complete,  that  if  the 
locomotive  had  been  a  sucking-pig,  he  could  not  have  been 
more  perfectly  indifferent  to  its  doings.  Notwithstanding  the 
tranquil  state  of  this  officer,  and  his  unbroken  peace  of  mind, 
the  train  was  proceeding  with  tolerable  rapidity;  and  the 
rails  being  but  poorly  laid,  the  jolts  and  bumps  it  met  with  in 
its  progress  were  neither  slight  nor  few. 

There  were  three  great  caravans  or  cars  attached.  The 
ladies'  car,  the  gentlemen's  car,  and  the  car  for  negroes  : 
the  latter  painted  black,  as  an  appropriate  compliment  to  its 
company,  Martin  and  Mark  Tapley  were  in  the  first,  as  it 
was  the  most  comfortable  ;  and,  being  far  from  full,  received 
other  gentlemen  who,  like  them,  were  unblessed  by  the 
society  of  ladies  of  their  own.  They  were  seated  side  by  -side 
and  were  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 

"  And  so,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  looking  at  him  with  an 
anxious  expression,  "  and  so  you  are  glad  we  have  left  New 
York  far  behind  us,  are  you  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mark.     "  I  am.     Precious  glad." 

^'  Were  you  not  *  jolly  '  there  ? "  asked  Martin. 

^'  On  the  contrary,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  The  joP-est 
week  as  ever  I  spent  in  my  life,  was  that  there  week  at  Paw- 
kins's." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  our  prospect  ?  "  inquired  Martin, 
with  an  air  that  plainly  said  he  had  avoided  the  question  for 
some  time. 

"  Uncommon  bright,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  Impossible 
for  a  place  to  have  a  better  name,  sir,  than  the  Walley  of 
Eden.  No  man  couldn't  think  of  setting  in  a  better  phce 
than  the  Walley  of  Eden.  And  I'm  told,"  added  Mark  a^ter 
a  pause,  *'as  there's  lots  of  serpents  there,  so  we  shall  ce*ne 
out  quite  complete  and  reg'lar." 

So  far  from  dwelling  upon  this  agreeable  piece  of  inf  ~)r- 
mation  with  the   least   dismay,  Mark's  face  grew  radian;  as 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  347 

he  called  it  to  mind;  so  very  radiant  that  a  stranger  might 
have  supposed  he  had  all  his  life  been  yearning  for  the 
society  of  serpents,  and  now  hailed  with  delight  the  approach, 
ing  consummation  of  his  fondest  wishes. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  asked  Martin,  sternly. 

*'  A  military  officer,"  said  Mark. 

"Confound  you  for  a  ridiculous  fellow!"  cried  Martin, 
laughing  heartily  in  spite  of  himself.  "  What  military  offi- 
cer ?     You  know  they  spring  up  in  every  field." 

"As  thick  as  scarecrows  in  England,  sir,"  interposed 
Mark,  "  which  is  a  sort  of  militia  themselves,  being  entirely 
coat  and  wescoat,  with  a  stick  inside.  Ha,  ha!  Don't  mind 
me,  sir;  it's  my  way  sometimes.  I  can't  help  being  jolly. 
Why,  it  Avas  one  of  them  inwading  conquerors  at  Pawkins's 
as  told  me.  *Am  I  rightly  informed,'  he  says — not  exactly 
through  his  nose,  but  as  if  he'd  got  a  stoppage  in  it,  very 
high  up — 'that  you're  a-going  to  the  Walley  of  Eden?'  'I 
heard  some  talk  on  it,'  I  told  him.  *  Oh,'  says  he,  *if  you 
should  happen  to  go  to  bed  there — you  7nay^  you  know,'  he 
says,  *  in  course  of  time,  as  civilization  progresses — don't 
fail  to  take  a  ax  with  you.'  1  looks  at  him  tolerable  hard. 
'Fleas?'  says  I.  'And  more,*  says  he.  'Wampires?*  says 
I.  'And  more,'  says  he.  '  Musquitoes,  perhaps?'  says  I. 
'And  more,'  says  he.  'What  more?'  says  I.  '  Snakes  more,' 
says  he;  'rattlesnakes.  You're  right  to  a  certain  extent, 
stranger.  There  air  some  catawampous  chawers  in  the 
small  way,  too,  as  graze  upcti  a  human  pretty  strong;  but 
don't  mind  ihem^  they're  company.  It's  snakes,'  he  says, 
'as  you'll  object  to;  and  whenever  you  wake  and  see  one  in 
an  upright  poster  on  your  bed,'  he  says,  '  like  a  corkscrew 
with  the  handle  off,  a  sittin'  on  its  bottom  ring,  cut  him 
down,  for  he  means  wenom,' " 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before!  "  cried  Martin,  with 
an  expression  of  face  which  set  off  the  cheerfulness  of  Mark's 
visage  to  great  advantage. 

"  I  never  thought  on  it,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  It  come  in  at 
one  ear  and  went  out  at  the  other.  But  Lord  love  us,  he 
was  one  of  another  company,  I  dare  say,  and  only  made  up 
the  story  that  we  might  go  to  his  Eden,  and  not  the  opposi- 
tion one." 

"There's  some  probability  in  that,"  observed  Martin;  "I 
can  honestly  say  that  I  hope  so  with  all  my  heart." 

"  I've  not  a  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  who,  full 
of  the  inspiriting  influence  of  the  anecdote  upon  himself,  had 


348  MARTIN  CKV  ZZI\l\WIT. 

for  the  moment  forgotten  its  probable  effect  upon  his  mas- 
ter; "anyhow,  we  must  live,  you  know,  sir." 

"  Live!  "  cried  Martin.  "Yes,  it's  easy  to  say  live;  but  if 
we  should  happen  not  to  wake  when  rattlesnakes  are  making 
corkscrews  of  themselves  upon  our  beds,  it  may  not  be  so 
easy  to  do  it." 

"And  that's  a  fact,"  said  a  voice  so  close  i^i  his  ear  that 
it  tickled  him.     "  That's  dreadful  true." 

Martin  looked  round  and  found  that  a  gentleman,  on  the 
seat  behind,  had  thrust  his  head  between  himself  and  Mark, 
and  sat  with  his  chin  resting  on  the  back  rail  of  their  little 
bench,  entertaining  himself  with  their  conversation.  He  was 
as  languid  and  listless  in  his  looks  as  most  of  the  gentlemen 
they  had  seen;  his  cheeks  were  so  hollow  that  he  seemed  to 
be  always  sucking  them  in;  and  the  sun  had  burned  him,  not 
a  wholesome  red  or  brown,  but  dirty  yellow.  He  had  bright 
dark  eyes,  which  he  kept  half  closed;  only  peeping  out  of 
the  corners,  and  even  then  with  a  glance  that  seemed  to  say: 
"  Now,  you  won't  overreach  me;  you  want  to,  but  you  won't." 
His  arms  rested  carelessly  on  his  knees  as  he  leaned  forward; 
in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  as  English  rustics  have  their 
slice  of  cheese,  he  had  a  cake  of  tobacco;  in  his  right  a  pen- 
knife. He  struck  into  the  dialogue  with  as  little  reserve  as 
if  he  had  been  specially  called  in,  days  before,  to  hear  the 
arguments  on  both  sides,  and  favor  them  with  his  opinion: 
and  he  no  more  contemplated  or  cared  for  the  possibility  of 
their  not  desiring  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance  or  interfer 
ence  in  their  private  affairs  than  if  he  had  ^been  a  bear  or  a 
buffalo. 

"  That,"  he  repeated,  nodding  condescendingly  to  Mar- 
tin, as  to  an  outer  barbarian  and  foreigner,  "  is  dreadfuv 
true.     Darn  all  manner  of  vermin." 

Martin  could  not  help  frowning  for  a  moment,  as  if  he 
were  disposed  to  insinuate  that  the  gentleman  had  uncon- 
sciously "darned"  himself.  But  remembering  the  wisdom 
of  doing  at  Rome  as  Romans  do,  he  smiled  with  the  pleas- 
antest  expression  he  could  assume  upon  so  short  a  notice. 

Their  new  friend  said  no  more  just  then,  being  busilv 
employed  in  cutting  a  (juid  or  plug  from  his  cake  of  tobaccG 
and  whistling  softly  to  himself  the  while.  When  he  had 
shaped  it  to  his  liking,  he  took  out  his  old  plug,  and  depos 
ited  the  same  on  the  back  of  the  seat  between  Mark  and 
Martin,  while  the  thrust  the  new  one  into  the  hollow  of  his 
cheek,  where  it  looked    like    a   large   walnut,    or    tolerable 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  349 

pippin.  Finding  it  quite  satisfactory,  he  struck  the  point  of 
his  knife  into  the  old  plug,  and  holding  it  out  for  their  inspec- 
tion, remarked  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  not  lived  in 
vain,  that  it  was  "  used  up  considerable."  Then  he  tossed 
it  away,  put  his  knife  into  one  pocket  and  his  tobacco  into 
another,  rested  his  chin  upon  the  rail  as  before,  and  approv- 
ing of  the  pattern  on  Martin's  waistcoat,  reached  out  his 
hand  to  feel  the  texture  of  that  garment. 

"  What  do  you  call  this  now  ?"  he  asked. 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Martin,  "I  don't  know  what  it 
is  called." 

"  It'll  cost  a  dollar  or  more  a  yard,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know." 

"  In  my  country,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  we  know  the  cost 
of  our  own  pro-duce." 

Martin  not  discussing  the  question,  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Well  !  "  resumed  their  new  friend,  after  staring  at  them 
intently  during  the  whole  interval  of  silence,  "  how's  the 
unnat'ral  old  parent  by  this  time  ?  " 

Mr.  Tapley  regarding  this  inquiry  as  only  another  version 
of  the  impertinent  English  question,  "  How's  your  mother  ?  " 
would  have  resented  it  instantly,  but  for  Martin's  prompt 
interposition. 

*'  You  mean  the  old  country  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Ah  !  "  was  the  reply.  "  How's  she  !  Progressing  back- 
'ards  I  expect,  as  usual  ?     Well  !     How's  Queen  Victoria  ?" 

"  In  good  health,  I  believe,"  said  Martin. 

**  Queen  Victoria  won't  shake  in  her  royal  shoes  at  all, 
when  she  hears  to-morrow  named,"  observed  the  stranger. 
"No." 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.     Why  should  she  ?" 

"  She  won't  be  taken  with  a  cold  chill,  when  she  realizes 
what  is  being  done  in  these  diggings,"  said  the  stranger. 
"No." 

"  No,"  said  Martin.  "  I  think  I  could  take  my  oath  of 
that." 

The  strange  gentleman  looked  at  him  as  if  in  pity  for  his 
ignorance  or  prejudice,  and  said  : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  tell  you  this — there  ain't  a  en-glne  with  its 
biler  bust,  in  God  A'mighty's  free  U-nited  States,  so  fixed, 
and  nipped,  and  frizzled  to  a  most  e-tarnal  smash,  as  that 
young  critter,  in  her  luxurious  location  in  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, will  be,  when  she  reads  the  next  double-extra  Water- 
toast  Gazette." 


350  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Several  other  gentlemen  had  left  their  seats  and  gathered 
round  during  the  foregoing  dialogue.  They  were  highly 
delighted  with  this  speech.  One  very  lank  gentleman,  in 
a  loose  limp  white  cravat,  a  long  white  waistcoat,  and  a  black 
great-coat,  who  seemed  to  be  in  authority  among  them,  felt 
called  upon  to  acknowledge  it. 

"  Hem  !  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,"  he  said,  taking  off 
his  hat. 

There  was  a  grave  murmur  of  "  Hush  !  " 

"  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle  !     Sir  !  " 

Mr.  Kettle  bowed. 

"  In  the  name  of  this  company,  sir,  and  in  the  name  of 
our  common  country,  and  in  the  name  of  that  righteous 
cause  of  holy  sympathy  in  which  we  are  engaged,  I  thank  you, 
I  thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  Watertoast  Sympa- 
thizers ;  and  I  thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  Watertoast 
Gazette  ;  and  I  thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  star- 
spangled  banner  of  the  Great  United  States,  for  your  eloquent 
and  categorical  exposition.  And  if,  sir,"  said  the  speaker, 
poking  Martin  wdth  the  handle  of  his  umbrella  to  bespeak 
his  attention,  for  he  was  listening  to  a  whisper  from  Mark  ; 
"  if,  sir,  in  such  a  place,  and  at  such  a  time,  I  might  venture 
to  con-elude  with  a  sentiment,  glancing — however  slantin'- 
dicularly — at  the  subject  in  hand,  I  would  say,  sir,  may  the 
British  lion  have  his  talons  eradicated  by  the  noble  bill 
of  the  America  eagle,  and  be  taught  to  play  upon  the  Irish 
harp  and  Scotch  fiddle  that  music  which  is  breathed  in 
every  empty  shell  that  lies  upon  the  shores  of  green  Co- 
lumbia !  " 

Here  the  lank  gentleman  sat  down  again,  amidst  a  great 
sensation  ;  and  every  one  looked  very  grave. 

"  General  Choke,"  said  Mr.  LaFayette  Kettle,  "  you  warm 
my  heart  ;  sir,  you  warm  my  heart.  But  the  British  lion  is 
not  unrepresented  here,  sir  ;  and  I  should  be  glad  to  hear 
his  answer  to  those  remarks." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Martin,  laughing,  "  since  you  do 
me  the  honor  to  consider  me  his  representative,  I  have  only 
to  say  that  I  never  heard  of  Queen  Victoria  reading  the 
What's-his-name  Gazette,  and  that  I  should  scarcely  think 
it  probable." 

General  Choke  smiled  upon  the  rest,  and  said,  in  patient 
and  benignant  explanation: 

'*  It  is  sent  to  her,  sir.     It  is  sent  to  her.     Per  mail." 

"  But  if  it  is  addressed  to  the  Tower  of  London,  it  would 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  351 

hardly   come  to    hand,  I   fear,"    return   Martin;  "for   she 
don't  live  there." 

"  The  Queen  of  England,  gentlemen,"  observed  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  affecting  the  greatest  politeness,  and  regarding  them 
with  an  immovable  face,  "  usually  lives  in  the  mint  to  take 
care  of  the  money.  She/^^zi  lodgings,  in  virtue  of  her  office, 
with  the  lord  mayor  at  the  mansion-house;  but  don't  often 
occupy  them  in   consequence   of  the   parlor-chimney  smok- 

"  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to 
you  if  you'll  have  the  goodness  not  to  interfere  with  prepos- 
terous statements,  however  jocose  they  may  appear  to  you. 
I  was  merely  remarking,  gentlemen — though  it's  a  point  of 
very  little  import — that  the  Queen  of  England  does  not  hap- 
pen to  live  in  the  Tower  of  London." 

"  General!  "  cried  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle.  "  You  hear  ?  " 
"  General!  "  echoed  several  others.  "  General!  " 
*'  Hush!  Pray,  silence!  "  said  General  Choke,  holding  up 
his  hand,  and  speaking  with  a  patient  and  complacent 
benevolence  that  was  quite  touching.  "  I  have  always 
remarked  it  as  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance,  which  I 
impute  to  the  natur'  of  British  institutions  and  their 
tendency  to  suppress  that  popular  inquiry  and  information 
which  air  so  widely  diffused  even  in  the  trackless  forests  of 
this  vast  continent  of  the  western  ocean;  that  the  knowl- 
edge of  Britishers  themselves  on  such  points  is  not  to  be 
compared  with  that  possessed  by  our  intelligent  and  locomo- 
tive citizens.  This  is  interesting,  and  confirms  my  observa- 
tion. When  you  say,  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  Martin, 
''  that  your  queen  does  not  reside  in  the  Tower  of  London, 
you  fall  into  an  error,  not  uncommon  to  your  countrymen, 
even  when  their  abilities  and  moral  elements  air  such  as  to 
command  respect.  But,  sir,  you  air  wrong.  She  does  live 
there — " 

"When  she  is  at  the  court  of  Saint  James's,"  interposed 
Kettle. 

"  When  she  is  at  the  court  of  Saint  James's  of  course," 
returned  the  general,  in  the  same  benignant  way;  "  for  if 
her  location  was  in  Windsor  Pavilion  it  couldn't  be  in  Lon- 
don at  the  same  time.  Your  Tower  of  London,  sir,"  pursued 
the  general,  smiling  with  a  mild  consciousness  of  his 
knowledge,  "  is  nat'rally  your  royal  residence.  Being  located 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  your  parks,  your  drives, 
your  triumphant  arches,  your  opera,  and  your  royal  Almacks, 


352  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT. 

it  nat'rally  suggests  itself  as  the  place  for  holding  a 
luxurious  and  thoughtless  court.  And  consequently,"  said 
the  general,  ''  consequently,  the  court  is  held  there." 

*'  Have  you  been  in  England? "  asked  Martin. 

"In  print  I  have,  sir,"  said  the  general,  "not  otherwise. 
We  air  a  reading  people  here,  sir.  You  will  meet  with 
much  information  among  us  that  will  surprise  you,  sir." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  returned  Martin. 
But  here  he  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  who 
whispered  in  his  ear: 

"  You  know  General  Choke?" 

"  No,"  returned  Martin,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  You  know  what  he  is  considered?  " 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  country? "  said 
Martin,  at  a  venture. 

"  That's  a  fact,"  rejoined  Kettle.  "  I  was  sure  you  must 
have  heard  of  him!  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Martin,  addressing  himself  to  the  general 
again,  "  that  I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  the  bearer  of  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  you,  sir.  From  Mr.  Bevan,  of 
Massachusetts,"  he  added,  giving  it  to  him. 

The  general  took  it  and  read  it  attentively,  now  and  then 
stopping  to  glance  at  the  two  strangers.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished the  note,  he  came  over  to  Martin,  sat  down  by  him 
and  shook  hands. 

"  Well!  "  he  said,  "and  you  think  of  settling  in  Eden?" 

"  Subject  to  your  opinion,  and  the  agent's  advice,"  replied 
Martin.  "  I  am  told  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  in  the  old 
towns." 

"  I  can  introduce  you  to  the  agent,  sir,"  said  the  general. 
"  I  know  him.  In  fact,  I  am  a  member  of  the  Eden  land 
corporation  myself." 

This  was  serious  news  to  Martin,  for  his  friend  had  laid 
great  stress  upon  the  general's  having  no  connection,  as  he 
thought,  with  any  land  company,  and  therefore  being  likely 
to  give  him  disinterested  advice.  The  general  explained 
that  he  had  joined  the  corporation  only  a  few  weeks  ago, 
and  that  no  communication  had  passed  between  himself  and 
Mr.  Bevan  since. 

"  We  have  very  little  to  venture,"  said  Martin  anxiously  ; 
"  only  a  few  pounds  ;  but  it  is  our  all.  Now,  do  you  think 
that  for  one  of  my  profession,  this  would  be  a  speculation 
with  any  hope  or  chance  in  it  ? " 

"  Well,"  observed  the   general,   gravely,  "if  there  wasn't 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWlt.  353 

any  hope    or  chance  in  the   speculation,  it  wouldn't  have 
engaged  my  dollars,  I  opinionate." 

I  don't  mean  for  the  sellers,"  said  Martin.     "For  the 
buyers,  for  the  buyers  !  " 

"  For  the  buyers,  sir  ?  "  observed  the  general,  in  a  most 
impressive  manner.  "Well,  you  come  from  an  old  country; 
from  a  country,  sir,  that  has  piled  up  golden  calves  as  high 
as  Babel,  and  worshiped  'em  for  ages.  We  are  a  new  coun- 
try, sir;  man  is  in  a  more  primeval  state  here,  sir;  we  have 
not  the  excuse  of  having  lapsed  in  the  slow  course  of  time 
into  degenerate  practices;  we  have  no  false  gods;  man,  sir, 
here,  is  man  in  all  his  dignity.  We  fought  for  that  or  noth- 
ing. Here  am  I,  sir,"  said  the  general,  setting  up  his 
umbrella  to  represent  himself — and  a  villainous-looking 
umbrella  it  was;  a  very  bad  counter  to  stand  for  the  sterling' 
coin  of  his  benevolence — "  here  am  I  with  gray  hairs,  sir, 
and  a  moral  sense.  Would  I,  with  my  principles,  invest 
capital  in  this  speculation  if  I  didn't  think  it  full  of  hopes 
and  chances  for  my  brother  man  ?  " 

Martin  tried  to  look  convinced,  but  he  thought  of  New 
York,  and  found  it  difficult. 

"  What  are  the  great  United  States  for,  sir,"  pursued  the 
general,  "if  not  for  the  regeneration  of  man  ?  But  it  is  nat- 
'ral  in  you  to  make  such  an  enquerry,  for  you  come  from 
England,  and  you  do  not  know  my  country." 

"  Then  you  think,"  said  Martin,  "  that  allowing  for  the 
hardships  we  are  prepared  to  undergo,  there  is  a  reasonable 
— Heaven  knows  we  don't  expect  much — a  reasonable  open- 
ing in  this  place  ?" 

"  A  reasonable  opening  in  Eden,  sir  !  But  see  the  agent, 
see  the  agent;  see  the  maps  and  plans,  sir;  and  conclude  to 
go  or  stay,  according  to  the  natur'  of  the  settlement.  Eden 
hadn't  need  to  go  a-begging  yet,  sir,"  remarked  the  general. 

"  It  is  an  awful  lovely  place,  surely.  And  frightful  whole- 
some, likewise  !  "  said  Mr.  Kettle,  who  had  made  himself  a 
party  to  this  conversation  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Martin  felt  that  to  dispute  such  testimony,  for  no  better 
reason  than  because  he'had  his  secret  misgivings  on  the  sub- 
ject, would  be  ungentlemanly  and  indecent.  So  he  thanked 
the  general  for  his  promise  to  put  him  in  personal  communi- 
cation with  the  agent;  and  "concluded"  to  see  that  officer 
next  morning.  He  then  begged  the  general  to  inform  him 
who  the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  were,  of  whom  he  had 
spoken  in  addressing   Mr.  La  Fayette   Kettle,  and   on  what 


354  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

grievances  they  bestowed  their  sympathy.  To  which  the 
general,  looking  very  serious,  made  answer  that  he  might 
fully  enlighten  himself  on  those  points  to-morrow  by  attend- 
ing a  great  meeting  of  the  body,  which  would  then  be  held 
at  the  town  to  which  they  were  traveling;  ''over  which,  sir," 
said  the  general,  "  my  fellow-citizens  have  called  on  me  to 
preside." 

They  came  to  their  journey's  end  late  in  the  evening. 
Close  to  the  railway  was  an  immense  white  edifice,  like  an 
ugly  hospital,  on  which  was  painted  "National  Hotel." 
There  was  a  wooden  gallery  or  veranda  in  front,  in  which  it 
was  rather  startling,  when  the  train  stopped,  to  behold  a 
great  many  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes,  and  the  smoke  of  a 
great  many  cigars,  but  no  other  evidences  of  human  habita- 
tion. By  slow  degrees,  however,  some  heads  and  shoulders 
appeared,  and  connecting  themselves  with  the  boots  and 
shoes,  led  to  the  discovery  that  certain  gentlemen  boarders, 
who  had  a  fancy  for  putting  their  heels  where  the  gentlemen 
boarders  in  other  countries  usually  put  their  heads,  were 
enjoying  themselves  after  their  own  manner  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening. 

There  was  a  great  bar-room  in  this  hotel,  and  a  great  pub- 
lic room  in  which  the  general  table  was  being  set  out 
for  supper.  There  were  interminable  whitewashed  stair- 
cases, long,  whitewashed  galleries  up-stairs  and  down- 
stairs, scores  of  little  whitewashed  bed-rooms,  and  a  four- 
sided  veranda  to  every  story  in  the  house,  which  formed 
a  large  brick  square  with  an  uncomfortable  court-yard  in 
the  center,  where  some  clothes  were  drying.  Here  and 
there,  some  yawning  gentlemen  lounged  up  and  down  with 
their  hands  in  their  pockets;  but  within  the  house  and  with- 
out, wherever  half  a  dozen  people  were  collected  together, 
there,  in  their  looks,  dress,  morals,  manners,  habits,  intel- 
lect, and  conversation,  were  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  Colonel 
Diver,  Major  Pawkins,  General  Choke,  and  Mr.  La  Fayette 
Kettle,  over,  and  over,  and  over  again.  They  did  the 
same  things,  said  the  same  things,  judged  all  subjects  by, 
and  reduced  all  subjects  to,  the  same  standard.  Observing 
how  they  lived,  and  how  they  were  always  in  the 
enchanting  company  of  each  other,  Martin  even  began  to 
comprehend  their  being  the  social,  cheerful,  winning,  airy 
men  they  were. 

At  the  sounding  of  a  dismal  gong,  this  pleasant  company 
went  trooping  down  from  all  parts  of  the  house  to  the  public 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  355 

room;  while  from  the  neighboring  stores  other  guests  came 
flocking  in,  in  shoals;  for  half  the  town,  married  folks  as  well 
as  single,  resided  at  the  National  Hotel.  Tea,  coffee,  dried 
meats,  tongue,  ham,  pickles,  cake,  toast,  preserves,  and  bread 
and  butter,  were  swallowed  with  the  usual  ravaging  speed; 
and  then,  as  before,  the  company  dropped  off  by  degrees, 
and  lounged  away  to  the  desk,  the  counter,  or  the  bar-room. 
The  ladies  had  a  smaller  ordinary  of  their  own,  to  which 
their  husbands  and  brothers  were  admitted  if  they  chose; 
and  in  all  other  respects  they  enjoyed  themselves  as  at  Paw- 
kins's. 

'*  Now,  Mark,  my  good  fellow,"  said   Martin,  closing  the 
door  of  his  little  chamber,  ^'  we  must  hold  a  solemn  council 
for  our  fate  is  decided  to-morrow  morning.     You  are  deter 
mined  to  invest  these  savings  of  yours  in  the  common  stock 
are  you  ?  " 

"If  I  hadn't  been  determined  to  make   that  wentur,  sir,' 
answered  Mr.  Tapley,  "  I  shouldn't  have  come." 

"  How  much  is  there  here,  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Martin 
holding  up  a  little  bag. 

"  Thirty-seven  pound   ten   and    sixpence.     The    savings 
bank  said  so,  at  least,  I  never  counted  it.     But  t/iey  know 
bless  you!  "  said  Mark,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  expressive 
of  his  unbounded  confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  arithmetic 
of  those  institutions. 

"  The  money  we  brought  with  us,"  said  Martin,  "  is 
reduced  to  a  few  shillings  less  than  eight  pounds." 

Mr.  Tapley  smiled,  and  looked  all  manner  of  ways,  that  he 
might  not  be  supposed  to  attach  any  importance  to  this  fact. 

"  Upon  the  ring — /ler  ring,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  looking 
ruefully  at  his  empty  finger — 

"Ah!  "  sighed  Mr.  Tapley.     "Beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

"  — We  raised,  in  English  money,  fourteen  pounds.  So, 
even  with  that,  your  share  of  the  stock  is  still  very  much  the 
larger  of  the  two,  you  see.  Now,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  in  his 
old  way,  just  as  he  might  have  spoken  to  Tom  Pinch,  "  I  have 
thought  of  a  means  of  making  this  up  to  you,  more  than 
making  it  up  to  you  I  hope,  and  very  materially  elevating 
your  prospects  in  life," 

"  Oh!  don't  talk  of  that,  you  know,  sir,"  returned  Mark. 
"  I  don't  want  no  elevating,  sir.  I'm  all  right  enough,  sir,  / 
am." 

"  No,  but  hear  me,"  said  Martin,  "  because  this  is  very 
important  to  you,  and  a  great  satisfaction  to  me.     Mark,  you 


356  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

shall  be  a  partner  in  the  business — an  equal  partner  with 
myself.  I  will  put  in,  as  my  additional  capital,  my  profes- 
sional knowledge  and  ability;  and  half  the  annual  profits,  as 
long  as  it  is  carried  on,  shall  be  yours." 

Poor  Martin!  For-ever  building  castles  in  the  air.  For- 
ever, in  his  very  selfishness,  forgetful  of  all  but  his  own  teem- 
ing hopes  and  sanguine  plans.  Swelling,  at  that  instant,  with 
the  consciousness  of  patronizing  and  most  munificently 
rewarding  Mark! 

''  I  don't  know,  sir,"  Mark  rejoined,  much  more  sadly  than 
his  custom  was,  though  from  a  very  different  cause  than 
Martin  supposed,  "  what  I  can  say  to  this,  in  the  way  of 
thanking  you.  I'll  stand  by  you,  sir,  to  the  best  of  my  abil- 
ity, and  to  the  last.     That's  all." 

'' That's  all." 

''  We  quite  understand  each  other,  my  good  fellow,"  said 
Martin,  rising  in  self-approval  and  condescension.  "  We  are 
no  longer  master  and  servant,  but  friends  and  partners;  and 
are  mutually  gratified.  If  we  determine  on  Eden,  the  busi- 
ness shall  be  commenced  as  soon  as  we  get  there.  Under  the 
name,"  said  Martin,  who  never  hammered  upon  an  idea  that 
wasn't  red  hot — "  under  the  name  of  Chuzzlewit  and  Tap- 
ley." 

^'  Lord  love  you,  sir,"  cried  Mark,  ''  don't  have  my  name 
in  it.  I  ain't  acquainted  with  the  business,  sir.  I  must  be 
Co.,  I  must.  I've  often  thought,"  he  added,  in  a  Ioav  voice, 
"  as  I  should  like  to  know  a  Co. ;  but  I  little  thought  as  ever 
I  should  live  to  be  one." 

"You  shall  have  your  own  way,  Mark." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir.  If  any  country  gentleman  thereabouts, 
in  the  public  way,  or  otherwise,  wanted  such  a  thing  as  a 
skittle-ground  made,  I  could  take  that  part  of  the  bus'ness, 
sir." 

*'  Against  any  architect  in  the  States,"  said  Martin.  "  Get 
a  couple  of  sherry-cobblers,  Mark,  and  we'll  drink  success  to 
the  firm." 

Either  he  forgot  already  (and  often  ;ifterward),  that  they 
were  no  longer  master  and  servant,  or  considered  this  kind 
of  duty  to  be  among  the  legitimate  functions  of  the  Co.  But 
Mark  obeyed  with  his  usual  alacrity;  and  before  they  parted 
for  the  night,  it  was  agreed  between  them  that  they  should  go 
together  to  the  agent's  in  the  morning,  but  that  Martin 
should  decide  the  Eden  question,  on  his  own  sound  judg- 
ment.    And   Mark  made  no  merit,  even  to  himself  in  his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  357 

jollity,  of  this  concession  ;  perfectly  well  knowing  that  the 
matter  would  come  to  that  in  the  end,  any  way. 

The  general  was  one  of  the  party  at  the  public  table  next 
day,  and  after  breakfast  suggested  that  they  should  wait 
upon  the  agent  without  loss  of  time.  They,  desiring  noth- 
ing more,  agreed  ;  so  off  they  all  four  started  for  the  office 
of  the  Eden  settlement,  which  was  almost  within  rifle-shot 
of  the  National  Hotel. 

It  was  a  small  place,  something  like  a  turnpike.  But  a 
great  deal  of  land  may  be  got  into  a  dice-box,  and  why  may 
not  a  whole  territory  be  bargained  for  in  a  shed  ?  It  was 
but  a  temporary  office  too  ;  for  the  Edeners  were  "  going  " 
to  build  a  superb  establishment  for  the  transaction 
of  their  business,  and  had  already  got  so  far  as  to 
mark  out  the  site.  Which  is  a  great  way  in  America.  The 
office-door  was  wide  open,  and  in  the  door-way  was  the 
agent  ;  no  doubt  a  tremendous  fellow  to  get  through  his 
work,  for  he  seemed  to  have  no  arrears,  but  was  swinging 
backward  and  forward  in  a  rocking-chair,  with  one  of  his 
legs  planted  high  up  against  the  door-post,  and  the  other 
doubled  up  under  him,  as  if  he  were  hatching  his  foot. 

He  was  a  gaunt  man  in  a  huge  straw  hat,  and  a  coat 
of  green  stuff.  The  weather  being  hot,  he  had  no  cravat, 
and  wore  his  shirt  collar  wide  open  ;  so  that  every  time  he 
spoke  something  was  seen  to  twitch  and  jerk  up  in  his  throat, 
like  the  little  hammers  in  a  harpsichord  when  the  notes  arc 
struck.  Perhaps  it  was  the  truth  feebly  eadeavoring  to  leap 
to  his  lips.     If  so,  it  never  reached  them. 

Two  gray  eyes  lurked  deep  within  this  agent's  head,  but 
one  of  them  had  no  sight  in  it,  and  stood  stock  still.  With 
that  side  of  his  face  he  seemed  to  listen  to  what  the  other 
side  was  doing.  Tims  each  profile  had  a  distinct  expression, 
and  when  the  movable  side  was  most  in  action,  the  rigid  one 
was  in  its  coldest  state  of  watchfulness.  It  was  like  turning 
the  man  inside  out,  to  pass  to  that  view  of  his  features  in  his 
liveliest  mood,  and  see  how  calculating  and  intent  they 
were. 

Each  long  black  hair  upon  his  head  hung  down  as  straight 
as  any  plummet  line  ;  but  rumpled  tufts  were  on  the  arches 
of  his  eye,  as  if  the  crow  whose  foot  was  deeply  printed  in 
the  corners,  had  pecked  and  torn  them  in  a  savage  recogni- 
tion of  his  kindred  nature  as  a  bird  of  prey. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  they  now  approached,  and  whom 
the  general  saluted  by  the  name  of  Scadder. 


358  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Well,  sjen'ral,"  he  returned,  "and  how  are  you  ?" 

"  Ac-tive,  and  spry,  sir,  in  my  country's  service,  and  the 
Sympathetic  cause.  Two  gentlemen  on  business,  Mr.  Scad- 
der." 

He  shook  hands  with  both  of  them  (nothing  is  done  in 
America  without  shaking  hands)  then  went  on  rocking. 

"  I  think  I  know  what  bis'ness  you  have  brought  these 
strangers  here  upon,  then,  gen'ral  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir.     1  expect  you  may." 

"  You  air  a  tongue-y  person,  gen'ral.  For  you  talk  too 
much,  and  that's  a  fact,"  said  Scadder.  "  You  speak  a-larm- 
ing  well  in  public,  but  you  didn't  ought  to  go  ahead  so  fast 
in  private.     Now  !  " 

"  If  I  can  realize  your  meaning,  ride  me  on  a  rail  !  "  re- 
turned the  general,  after  pausing  for  consideration. 

*'  You  know  we  didn't  wish  to  sell  the  lots  off  right  away 
to  any  loafer  as  might  bid,"  said  Scadder;  "but  had  con- 
cluded to  reserve  'em  for  aristocrats  of  natur'.     Yes  !  " 

"  And  they  are  here,  sir  !  "  cried  the  general  with  warmth. 
"  They  are  here,  sir  !  " 

"if  they  air  here,"  returned  the  agent,  in  reproachful 
accents,  "  that's  enough.  But  you  didn't  ought  to  have  your 
dander  ris  with  me,  gen'ral." 

The  general  whispered  Martin  that  Scadder  was  the  hon- 
estest  fellow  in  the  world,  and  that  he  wouldn't  have  given 
him  offense  designedly,  for  ten  thousand  dollars. 

"  I  do  my  duty  ;  and  I  raise  the  dander  of  my  fellow  crit- 
ters, as  1  wish  to  serve,"  said  Scadder  in  a  low  voice,  look- 
ing down  the  road  and  rocking  still.  "  They  rile  up  rough 
along  of  my  objecting  to  their  selling  Eden  off  too  cheap. 
That's  human  natur'  !     Well  I  " 

"  Mr.  Scadder,"  said  the  general,  assuming  his  oratorical 
deportment.  Sir  !  Here  is  my  hand,  and  here  my  heart.  I 
esteem  you,  sir,  and  ask  your  pardon.  These  gentlemen  are 
friends  of  mine,  or  I  would  not  have  brought  'em  here,  sir, 
being  well  aware,  sir,  that  the  lots  at  present  go  entirely  too 
cheap.  But  these  air  friends,  sir  ;  these  air  partick'ler 
friends." 

Mr.  Scadder  was  so  satisfied  by  this  explanation,  that  he 
shook  the  general  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  got  out  of  the 
rocking-chair  to  do  it.  He  then  invited  the  general's  particu- 
lar friends  to  accompany  him  into  the  office.  As  to  the  gen- 
eral, he  observed,  with  his  usual  benevolence,  that  being  one 
of  the  company,  he  wouldn't  interfere  in  the  transaction  on 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  359 

any  account ;  so  he  appropriated  the  rocking-chair  to  him- 
self, and  looked  at  the  prospect,  like  a  good  Samaritan  wait- 
ing for  a  traveler. 

"  Heyday  !  "  cried  Martin,  as  his  eye  rested  on  a  great 
plan  which  occupied  one  whole  side  of  the  office.  Indeed, 
the  office  had  little  else  in  it  but  some  geological  and  botani- 
cal specimens,  one  or  two  rusty  ledgers,  a  homely  desk,  and 
a  stool.     "  Heyday  !  what's  that  ?  " 

"  That's  Eden,"  said  Scadder,  picking  his  teeth  with  a  sort 
of  young  bayonet  that  flew  out  of  his  knife  when  he  touched 
a  spring. 

"  Why,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  a  city." 

"  Hadn't  you  ?     Oh,  it's  a  city." 

A  flourishing  city,  too  !  An  architectural  city  !  There 
were  banks,  churches,  cathedral,  market-places,  factories, 
hotels,  stores,  mansions,  wharves  ;  an  exchange,  a  theater, 
public  buildings  of  all  kinds,  down  to  the  office  of  the  Eden 
Stinger,  a  daily  journal  ;  all  faithfully  depicted  in  the  view 
before  them. 

'*  Dear  me  !  It's  really  a  most  important  place  !  "  cried 
Martin,  turning  round. 

"Oh  !  it's  very  important,"  observed  the  agent. 

**  But,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martin,  glancing  again  at  the 
public  building,  *'  that  there's  nothing  left  for  me  to  do." 

*'  Well,  it  ain't  all  built,"  replied  the  agent. 

This  was  a  great  relief. 

"  The  market-place,  now,"  said  Martin.  "  Is  that  built  ?  " 

*'  That  ? "  said  the  agent,  sticking  his  toothpick  into  the 
weathercock  on  the  top.  "  Let  me  see.  No  ;  that  ain't 
built." 

"  Rather  a  good  job  to  begin  with.  Eh,  Mark  ?  "  whis- 
pered Martin,  nudging  him  with  his  elbow. 

Mark,  who,  with  a  very  stolid  countenance,  had  been  ey- 
ing the  plan  and  the  agent  by  turns,  merely  rejoined  "  Un- 
common !  " 

A  dead  silence  ensued,  Mr.  Scadder  in  some  short  recesses 
or  vacations  of  his  toothpick,  whistled  a  few  bars  of  Yankee 
Doodle,  and  blew  the  dust  off  the  roof  of  the  theater. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Martin,  feigning  to  look  more  narrowly 
at  the  plan,  but  showing  by  his  tremulous  voice  how  much 
depended,  in  his  mind  upon  the  answer — "  I  suppose  there 
are — several  architects  there  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  a  single  one,"  said  Scadder. 

"  Mark,"  whispered  Martin,  pulling  him  by  the   sleeve, 


36o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

'*  do  you  hear  that  ?  But  whose  work  is  all  this  before  us, 
then  ?  "  he  asked  aloud. 

*'  The  soil  being  very  fruitful,  public  buildings  grow  spon- 
taneous, perhaps,"  said  Mark. 

He  was  on  the  agent's  dark  side  as  he  said  it  ;  but  Scad- 
der  instantly  changed  his  place,  and  brought  his  active  eye 
to  bear  upon  him. 

"  Feel  of  my  hands,  young  man,"  he  said. 

''  What  for  ?  "  asked  Mark,  declining. 

"  Air  they  dirty,  or  air  they  clean,  sir  ?  "  said  Scadder, 
holding  them  out. 

In  a  physical  point  of  view  they  were  decidedly  dirty. 
But  it  being  obvious  that  Mr.  Scadder  offered  them  for 
examination  in  a  figurative  sense,  as  emblems  of  his  moral 
character,  Martin  hastened  to  pronounce  them  pure  as  the 
driven  snow. 

"  I  entreat,  Mark,"  he  said,  with  some  irritation,  "  that  you 
will  not  obtrude  remarks  of  that  nature,  which,  however 
harmless  and  well-intentioned,  are  quite  out  of  place,  and 
can  not  be  expected  to  be  very  agreeable  to  strangers.  I 
am  quite  surprised." 

"The  Co.'s  a-putting  his  foot  in  it  already,"  thought 
Mark.  "  He  must  be  a  sleeping  partner — fast  asleep  and 
snoring  Co.  must — /  see." 

Mr.  Scadder  said  nothing,  but  he  set  his  back  against  the 
plan,  and  thrust  his  toothpick  into  the  desk  some  twenty 
times,  looking  at  Mark  all  the  while  as  if  he  were  stabbing 
him  in  effigy. 

"  You  haven't  said  whose  work  it  is,"  Martin  ventured  to 
observe,,  at  length,  in  a  tone  of  mild  propitiation, 

"  Well,  never  mind  whose  work  it  is,  or  isn't,"  said  the 
agent  sulkily.  *'  No  matter  how  it  did  eventuate.  P'raps  he 
cleared  off,  handsome,  with  a  heap  of  dollars  ;  p'raps  he 
wasn't  worth  a  cent.  P'raps  he  was  a  loafin'  rowdy  ;  p'raps 
a  ring-tailed  roarer.     Now  !  " 

**  All  your  doing,  Mark  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  P'rapg,"  pursued  the  agent,*'  them  ain't  plants  of  Eden's 
raising.  No  !  P'raps  that  desk  and  stool  ain't  made  from 
Eden  lumber.  No  !  P'raps  no  end  of  squatters  ain't  gone 
out  there.  No  ?  P'raps  there  ain't  no  such  location  in  the 
territory  of  the  great  U-nited  States.     Oh  no  !  "  . 

'*  I  hope  you're  satisfied  with  the  success  of  your  jokC; 
Mark,"  said  Martin. 

But  here,  at  a  most  opportune  and  happy   time,    the  gen- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  361 

eral  interposed,  and  called  out  to  Scadder  from  the  doorway 
to  give  his  friends  the  particulars  of  that  little  lot  of  fifty  acres 
with  the  house  upon  it;  which,  having  belonged  to  the  com- 
pany formerly,  had  lately  lapsed  again  into  their  hands. 

*'  You  air  a  deal  too  open-handed,  gen'ral,"  was  the  answer. 
''It's  a  lot  as  should  be  rose  in  price.     It  is." 

He  grumblingly  opened  his  books  notwithstanding,  and 
always  keeping  his  bright  side  toward  Mark,  no  matter  at 
what  amount  of  inconvenience  to  himself,  displayed  a  certain 
leaf  for  their  perusal.  Martin  read  it  greedily  and  then 
inquired  : 

"  Now  where  upon  the  plan  may  this  place  be  ? " 

"  Upon  the  plan  ?  "  said  Scadder. 

"Yes." 

He  turned  toward  it,  and  reflected  for  a  short  time,  as  if, 
having  been  put  upon  his  mettle,  he  was  resolved  to  be  par- 
ticular to  the  very  minutest  hair's  breath  of  a  shade.  At 
length,  after  wheeling  his  toothpick  slowly  round  and  round 
in  the  air,  as  if  it  were  a  carrier  pigeon  just  thrown  up,  he 
suddenly  made  a  dart  at  the  drawing,  and  pierced  the  very 
center  of  the  main  wharf,  through  and  through. 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  leaving  the  knife  quivering  in  the  wall; 
"  that's  where  it  is." 

Martin  glanced  with  sparkling  eyes  upon  his  Co.,  and  his 
Co.  saw  that  the  thing  was  done. 

The  bargain  was  not  concluded  as  easily  as  might  have 
been  expected  though,  for  Scadder  was  caustic  and  ill-hu- 
mored, and  cast  much  unnecessary  opposition  in  the  way; 
at  one  time  requesting  them  to  think  of  it,  and  call  again  in  a 
week  or  fortnight  ;  at  another  predicting  that  they  wouldn't 
like  it;  and  another  offering  to  retract  and  let  them  off,  and 
muttering  strong  imprecations  upon  the  folly  of  the  general. 
But  the  whole  of  the  astoundingly  small  sum-total  of  pur- 
chase money — it  was  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  or 
something  more  than  thirty  pounds  of  the  capital  brought  by 
Co.  into  the  architectural  concern — was  ultimately  paid 
down;  and  Martin's  head  was  two  inches  nearer  the  roof  of 
the  little  wooden  office,  with  the  consciousness  of  being  a' 
landed  proprietor  in  the  thriving  city  of  Eden. 

"  If  it  shouldn't  happen  to  fit,"  said  Scadder,  as  he  gave 
Martin  the  necessary  credentials  on  receipt  of  his  money, 
"  don't  blame  me." 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied  merrily.  "  We'll  not  blame  you. 
General,  are  you  going  ?  " 


362  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  sir  ;  and  I  wish  you,"  said  the 
general,  giving  him  his  hand  with  grave  cordiality,  "  joy  of 
your  po-ssession.  You  are  now,  sir,  a  denizen  of  the  most 
powerful  and  highly  civilized  do-minion  that  has  ever  graced 
the  world;  a  do-minion,  sir,  where  man  is  bound  to  man  in 
one  vast  bond  of  equal  love  and  truth.  May  you,  sir,  be 
worthy  of  your  a-dopted  country  !  " 

Martin  thanked  him  and  took  leave  of  Mr.  Scadder,  who 
had  resumed  his  post  in  the  rocking  chair,  immediately  on 
the  general's  rising  from  it,  and  was  once  more  swinging 
away  as  if  he  had  never  been  disturbed.  Mark  looked  back 
several  times  as  they  went  down  the  road  toward  the  National 
Hotel,  but  now  his  blighted  profile  was  toward  them,  and 
nothing  but  attentive  thoughtfulness  was  written  on  it. 
Strangely  different  to  the  other  side  !  He  was  not  a  man 
much  given  to  laughing,  and  never  laughed  outright;  but 
every  line  in  the  print  of  the  crow's  foot,  and  every  little 
wiry  vein  in  that  division  of  his  head,  was  wrinkled  up  into 
a  grin.  The  compound  figure  of  death  and  the  lady  at  the 
top  of  the  old  ballad  was  not  divided  with  a  greater  nicety, 
and  hadn't  halves  more  monstrously  unlike  each  other,  than 
the  two  profiles  of  Zephaniah  Scadder. 

The  general  posted  along  at  a  great  rate,  for  the  clock 
was  on  the  stroke  of  twelve;  and  at  that  hour,  precisely,  the 
great  meeting  of  the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  was  to  be  held 
in  the  public  room  of  the  National  Hotel.  Being  very  curi- 
ous to  witness  the  demonstration,  and  know  what  it  was  all 
about,  Martin  kept  close  to  the  general;  and,  keeping  closer 
than  ever  when  they  entered  the  hall,  got  by  that  means  upon 
a  little  platform  of  tables  at  the  upper  end,  where  an  arm- 
chair was  set  for  the  general,  and  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  as 
secretary,  was  making  a  great  display  of  some  foolscap  docu- 
ments. Screamers,  no  doubt. 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  he  said,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Martin, 
"  here  is  a  spectacle  calculated  to  make  the  British  lion 
put  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and  howl  with  anguish,  I 
expect !  " 

Martin  certainly  thought  it  possible  that  the  British  lion 
might  have  been  rather  out  of  his  element  in  that  ark  ;  but 
he  kept  the  idea  to  himself.  The  general  was  then  voted  to 
the  chair,  on  the  motion  of  a  pallid  lad  of  the  Jefferson 
Brick  school,  who  forthwith  set  in  for  a  high-spiced  speech, 
with  a  good  deal  about  hearths  and  homes  in  it,  and  unrivet- 
ing  the  chains  of  tyranny. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  363 

Oh  but  it  was  a  clincher  for  the  British  lion,  it  was  ! 
The  indignation  of  the  glowing  young  Columbian  knew  no 
bounds.  If  he  could  only  have  been  one  of  his  own  fore- 
fathers, he  said,  wouldn't  he  have  peppered  that  same  lion, 
and  been  to  him  as  another  brute  tamer  with  a  wire  whip, 
teaching  him  lessons  not  easily  forgotten.  "  Lion  !  (cried 
that  young  Columbian)  where  is  he  ?  Who  is  he  ?  What 
is  he  ?  Show  him  to  me.  Let  me  have  him  here.  Here  !  " 
said  the  young  Columbian,  in  a  wrestling  attitude,  "  upon 
this  sacred  altar.  Here  !  "  cried  the  young  Columbian, 
idealizing  the  dining-table,  "  upon  ancestral  ashes,  cemented 
with  the  glorious  blood  poured  out  like  water  on  our  native 
plains  of  Chickabiddy  Lick  !  Bring  forth  that  lion  !  "  said 
the  young  Columbian.  ''  Alone,  I  dare  him  !  I  taunt  that 
lion.  I  tell  that  lion,  that  freedom's  hand  once  twisted  in 
his  mane,  he  rolls  a  corse  before  me,  and  the  eagles  of  the 
great  republic  laugh  ha,  ha  !  " 

When  it  was  found  that  the  lion  didn't  come,  but  kept 
out  of  the  way  ;  that  the  young  Columbian  stood  there,  with 
folded  arms,  alone  in  his  glory  ;  and  consequently  that  the 
eagles  were  no  doubt  laughing  wildly  on  the  mountain  tops  ; 
such  cheers  arose  as  might  have  shaken  the  hands  upon  the 
horse-guards'  clock,  and  changed  the  very  mean  time  of  the 
day  in  England's  capital. 

''  Who  is  this  ?  "  Martin  telegraphed  to  La  Fayette. 

The  secretary  wrote  something,  very  gravely,  on  a  piece 
of  paper,  twisted  it  up,  and  had  it  passed  to  him  from  hand  to 
hand.  It  was  an  improvement,  on  the  old  sentiment  ; 
"  Perhaps  as  remarkable  a  man  as  any  in  our  country." 

This  young  Columbian  was  succeeded  by  another,  to  the 
full  as  eloquent  as  he,  who  drew  down  storms  of  cheers. 
But  both  remarkable  youths,  in  their  great  excitement  (for 
your  true  poetry  can  never  stoop  to  details),  forgot  to  say 
with  whom  or  what  the  Watertoasters  sympathized,  and  like- 
wise why  or  wherefore  they  were  sympathetic.  Thus,  Martin 
remained  for  a  long  time  as  completely  in  the  dark  as  ever  ; 
until  at  length  a  ray  of  light  broke  in  upon  him  through  the 
medium  of  the  secretary,  who,  by  reading  the  minutes  of  their 
past  proceedings,  made  the  matter  somewhat  clearer.  He 
then  learned  that  the  Watertoast  Association  sympathized 
with  a  certain  public  man  in  Ireland,  who  held  a  contest 
upon  certain  points  with  England  ;  and  that  they  did  so 
because  they  didn't  love  England  at  all — not  by  any  means 
because  they  loved  Ireland  much  ;  being  indeed  horribly 


364  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

jealous  and  distrustful  of  its  people  always,  and  only  tolerat- 
ing them  because  of  their  working  hard,  which  made  them 
very  useful  ;  labor  being  held  in  greater  indignity  in  the 
simple  republic  than  in  any  other  country  upon  earth.  This 
rendered  Martin  curious  to  see  what  grounds  of  sympathy 
the  Watertoast  Association  put  forth;  nor  was  he  long  in  sus- 
pense, for  the  general  rose  to  read  a  letter  to  the  public  man, 
which  with  his  own  hands  he  had  written, 

*'  Thus,"  said  the  general,  "  thus,  my  friends  and  fellow- 
citizens,  it  runs  : 

"  '  Sir, 

" '  I  address  you  on  behalf  of  the  Watertoast  Association 
of  United  Sympathizers.  It  is  founded,  sir,  in  the  great 
republic  of  America  !  and  now  holds  its  breath,  and  swells 
the  blue  veins  in  its  forehead  nigh  to  bursting,  as  it  watches, 
sir,  with  feverish  intensity  and  sympathetic  ardor,  your  noble 
efforts  in  the  cause  of  freedom.'  " 

At  the  name  of  freedom,  and  at  every  repetition  of  that 
name,  all  the  Sympathizers  roared  aloud  ;  cheering  with  nine 
times  nine,  and  nine  times  over. 

*' '  In  freedom's  name,  sir — holy  freedom — I  address  you. 
In  freedom's  name,  I  send  herewith  a  contribution  to  the 
funds  of  your  society.  In  freedom's  name,  sir,  I  advert 
with  indignation  and  disgust  to  that  accursed  animal,  with 
gore-stained  whiskers,  whose  rampant  cruelty  and  fiery  lust 
have  ever  been  a  scourge,  a  torment  to  the  world.  The 
naked  visitors  to  Crusoe's  Island,  sir  ;  the  flying  wives  of 
Peter  Wilkins  ;  the  fruit-smeared  children  of  the  tangled 
bush  ;  nay,  even  the  men  of  large  stature,  anciently  bred  in 
the  mining  districts  of  Cornwall,  alike  bear  witness  to  its 
savage  nature.  Where,  sir,  are  the  Cormorans,  the  Blunder- 
bores,  the  Great  Feefofums,  named  in  history  ?  All,  all,  exter- 
minated by  its  destroying  hand. 

^' '  I  allude,  sir,  to  the  British  lion. 

"  '  Devoted,  mind  and  body,  heart  and  soul  to  freedom,  sir — 
to  freedom,  blessed  solace  to  the  snail  upon  the  cellar-door, 
the  oyster  in  his  pearly  bed,  the  still  mite  in  his  home 
of  cheese,  the  very  winkle  of  your  country  in  his  shelly  lair — 
in  her  unsullied  name,  we  offer  you  our  sympathy.  Oh,  sir, 
in  this,  our  cherished  and  our  happy  land,  her  fires  burn 
bright  and  clear  and  smokeless;  once  lighted  up  in  yours, 
the  lion  shall  be  roasted  whole. 

**  I  am,  sir,  in  freedom's  name, 
"  '  Your  affectionate  friend  and  faithful  sympathizer, 
"  '  Cyrus  Choke,  General,  U.  S.  M.'  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  365 

It  happened  that  just  as  the  general  began  to  read  this 
letter,  the  railroad  train  arrived,  bringing  a  new  mail  from 
England;  and  a  packet  had  been  handed  in  to  the  secretary, 
which,  during  its  perusal  and  the  frequent  cheerings  in 
homage  to  freedom,  he  had  opened.  Now,  its  contents  dis- 
turbed him  very  much,  and  the  moment  the  general  sat 
down,  he  hurried  to  his  side  and  placed  in  his  hand  a  letter 
and  several  printed  extracts  from  English  newspapers;  to 
which,  in  a  state  of  infinite  excitement,  he  called  his  imme- 
diate attention. 

The  general,  being  greatly  heated  by  his  own  composi- 
tion, was  in  a  fit  state  to  receive  any  inflammable  influence; 
but  he  had  no  sooner  possessed  himself  of  the  contents  of 
these  documents  than  a  change  came  over  his  face,  involv- 
ing such  a  huge  amount  of  choler  and  passion  that  the  noisy 
concourse  were  silent  in  a  moment,  in  very  wonder  at  the 
sight  of  him. 

"My  friends!"  cried  the  general,  rising;  "my  friends 
and  fellow  citizens,  we  have  been  mistaken  in  this  man," 

"  In  what  man  ? "  was  the  cry. 

"In  this,"  panted  the  general,  holding  up  the  letter  he 
had  read  aloud  a  few  minutes  before.  "  I  find  that  he  has 
been,  and  is,  the  advocate — consistent  in  it  always,  too — of 
nigger  emancipation! " 

If  any  thing  beneath  the  sky  be  real,  those  sons  of  free- 
dom would  have  pistoled,  stabbed — in  soma  way  slain — that 
man  by  coward  hands  and  murderous  violence,  if  he  had 
stood  among  them  at  that  time.  The  most  confiding  of 
their  own  countrymen  would  not  have  wagered  then,  no,  nor 
would  they  ever  peril,  one  dung-hill  straw  upon  the  life  of 
any  man  in  such  a  strait.  They  tore  the  letter,  cast  the 
fragments  in  the  air,  trod  down  the  pieces  as  they  fell,  and 
yelled,  and  groaned,  and  hissed,  till  they  could  cry  no 
longer. 

"  I  shall  move,"  said  the  general,  when  he  could  make 
himself  heard,  "  that  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United 
Sympathizers  be  immediately  dissolved!" 

Down  with  it!  Away  with  it!  Don't  hear  of  it!  Burn 
its  records!  Pull  the  room  down!  Blot  it  out  of  human 
memory! 

**  But,  my  fellow-countrymen!"  said  the  general,  "the 
contributions.  We  have  funds.  What  ig  to  be  done  with 
the  funds?" 

It  was  hastily  resolved  that  a  piece  of  plate  should  be  pre- 


SQ6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sented  to  a  certain  constitutional  judge,  who  had  laid  down 
from  the  bench  the  noble  principle  that  it  was  lawful  for 
any  white  mob  to  murder  any  black  man;  and  that  another 
piece  of  plate,  of  similar  value,  should  be  presented  to  a  cer- 
tain patriot,  who  had  declared  from  his  high  place  in  the  leg- 
islature, that  he  and  his  friends  would  hang,  without  trial, 
any  abolitionist  who  might  pay  them  a  visit.  For  the  sur- 
plus, it  was  agreed  that  it  should  be  devoted  to  aiding  the 
enforcement  of  those  free  and  equal  laws  which  render  it 
incalculably  more  criminal  and  dangerous  to  teach  a  negro 
to  read  and  write  than  to  roast  him  alive  in  a  public  city. 
These  points  adjusted,  the  meeting  broke  up  in  great  disor- 
der, and  there  was  an  end  of  the  Watertoast  Sympathy. 

As  Martin  ascended  to  his  bed-room,  his  eye  was  attracted 
by  the  republican  banner  which  had  been  hoisted  from  the 
house-top  in  honor  of  the  occasion,  and  was  fluttering  before 
a  window  which  he  passed. 

"  Tut!  "  said  Martin.  "  You're  a  gay  flag  in  the  distance. 
But  let  a  man  be  near  enough  to  get  the  light  upon  the 
other  side,  and  see  through  you,  and  you  are  but  sorry  fus- 
tian! " 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

FROM  WHICH  IT  WILL    BE    SEEN    THAT    MARTIN  BECAME  A  LION 
ON  HIS  OWN  ACCOUNT.    TOGETHER  WITH  THE  REASON  WHY. 

As  soon  as  it  was  generally  known  in  the  National  Hotel 
that  the  young  Englishman,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  had  purchased 
a  *'  lo-cation  "  in  the  Valley  of  Eden,  and  intended  to  betake 
himself  to  that  earthly  paradise  by  the  next  steamboat,  he 
became  a  popular  character.  Why  this  should  be,  or  how 
it  had  come  to  pass,  Martin  no  more  knew  than  Mrs.  Gamp, 
of  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Holborn,  did  ;  but  that  he 
was  for  the  time  being,  the  lion,  by  popular  election,  of 
the  Watertoast  community,  and  that  his  society  was 
in  rather  inconvenient  request,  there  could  be  no  kind  of 
doubt. 

The  first  notification  he  received  of  this  change  in  his 
position,  was  the  following  epistle,  written  in  a  thin  running 
hand, — with  here  and  there  a  fat  letter  or  two,  to  make  the 
general  effect  more  striking,  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  ruled  with 
blue  lines. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  367 

**  Naiio7ial  Hotels  Monday  Morning. 

*'  Dear  Sir, 

*'  When  I  had  the  privilege  of  being  your  fellow  traveler 
in  the  cars,  the  day  before  yesterday,  you  offered  some 
remarks  upon  the  subject  of  the  Tower  of  London,  which  (in 
common  with  my  fellow-citizens  generally)  I  could  wish  to 
hear  repeated  to  a  public  audience. 

*'  As  secretary  of  the  Young  Men's  Watertoast  Associa- 
tion of  this  town,  I  am  requested  to  inform  you  that  the 
society  will  be  proud  to  hear  you  deliver  a  lecture  upon  the 
Tower  of  London,  at  their  hall  to-morrow  evening,  at  seven 
o'clock;  and  as  a  large  issue  of  quarter-dollar  tickets  may  be 
expected,  your  answer  and  consent  by  bearer  will  be  consid- 
ered obliging. 

"  Dear,  Sir,  yours  truly, 

"  La  Fayette  Kettle. 

"  The  Honorable  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  P.  S. — The  society  would  not  be  particular  in  limiting 
you  to  the  Tower  of  London.  Permit  me  to  suggest  that 
any  remarks  upon  the  elements  of  geology,  or  (if  more 
convenient)  upon  the  writings  of  your  talented  and  witty 
countryman,  the  honorable  Mr.  Miller,  would  be  well 
received." 

Very  much  aghast  at  this  invitation,  Martin  wrote  back, 
civilly,  declining  it  ;  and  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  he 
received  another  letter. 

''  (Private). 
"  A^o.  47,  Bunker  Hill  Street^  Monday  Morning, 

"  Sir, 

"  I  was  raised  in  those  interminable  solitudes  where 
our  mighty  Mississippi  (or  Father  of  Waters)  rolls  his 
turbid  flood. 

"  I  am  young,  and  ardent.  For  there  is  a  poetry  in  wild- 
ness,  and  every  alligator  basking  in  the  slime  is  in  himself 
an  epic,  self-contained.  I  aspirate  for  fame.  It  is  my 
yearning  and  my  thirst. 

'*  Are  you,  sir,  aware  of  any  member  of  Congress  in  En- 
gland, who  would  undertake  to  pay  my  expenses  to  that 
country,  for  six  months  after  arrival  ? 

*'  There  is  something  within  me  which  gives  me  the  assur- 
ance that  this  enlightened  patronage  would  not  be  thrown 
away.  In  literature  or  art  ;  the  bar,  the  pulpit  or  the 
stage;  in  one  or  other,  if  not  all,  I  feel  that  I  am  certain  to 
succeed. 


368  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

''  If  too  much  engaged  to  write  to  any  such  yourself, 
please  let  me  have  a  list  of  three  or  four  of  those  most  likely 
to  respond,  and  I  will  address  them  through  the  post  office. 
May  I  also  ask  you  to  favor  me  with  any  critical  observa- 
tions that  have  ever  presented  themselves  to  your  reflective 
faculties,  on  *  Cain  ;  a  Mystery,'  by  the  Right  Honorable 
Lord  Byron  ? 

"  I  am,  Sir, 
"  Yours  (forgive  me  if  I  add,  soaringly), 

"  Putnam  Smif. 

"  P.  S. — Address  your  answer  to  America  Junior,  Messrs. 
Hancock  &  Floby,  Dry  Goods  Store,  as  above." 

Both  of  which  letters,  together  with  Martin's  reply  to  each, 
were,  according  to  a  laudable  custom,  much  tending  to  the 
promotion  of  gentlemanly  feeling  and  social  confidence, 
published  in  the  next  number  of  the  Watertoast  Gazette. 

He  had  scarcely  got  through  this  correspondence,  when 
Captain  Kedgick,  the  landlord,  kindly  came  up-stairs  to  see 
how  he  was  getting  on.  The  captain  sat  down  upon  the  bed 
before  he  spoke  ;  and  finding  it  rather  hard,  moved  to  the 
pillow. 

"  Well,  sir!  "  said  the  captain,  putting  his  hat  a  little  more 
on  one  side,  for  it  was  rather  tight  in  the  crown,  "  You're 
quite  a  public  man  I  calc'late." 

"  So  it  seems,"  retorted  Martin,  who  was  very  tired. 

"Our  citizens,  sir,"  pursued  the  captain,  "intend  to  pay 
their  respects  to  you.  You  will  have  to  hold  a  sort  of  le — 
vee,  sir,  while  you're  here." 

"  Powers  above  !  "  cried  Martin,  "  I  couldn't  do  that, 
my  good  fellow  !  " 

"  I  reckon  you  must  then,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Must  is  not  a  pleasant  word,  captain,"  urged  Martin. 

"Well  !  I  didn't  fix  the  mother  language,  and  I  can't 
unfix  it,"  said  the  captain,  coolly,  "  else  I'd  make  it  pleasant. 
You  must  re-ceive.     That's  all." 

"  But  why  should  I  receive  people  who  care  as  much  for 
me  as  I  care  for  them  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Well  !  because  I  have  had  a  muniment  put  up  in  the 
bar,"  returned  the  captain. 

"  A  what  ?  "  cried  Martin. 

"A  muniment,"  rejoined  the  captain. 

Martin  looked  despairingly  at  Mark,  who  informed  him 
that  the  captain  meant  a  written  notice  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
vvouici  receive  the  Watertoasters  that  day,  at  and  after  two 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  369 

o'clock,  which  was  in  effect,  then  hanging  in  the  bar,  as 
Mark  from  ocular  inspection  of  the  same  could  testify. 

"You  wouldn't  be  unpop'lar,  /  know,"  said  the  captain, 
paring  his  nails.  ''  Our  citizens  an't  long  of  riling  up,  I  tell 
you;  and  our  Gazette  could  flay  you  like  a  wild  cat." 

Martin  was  going  to  be  very  wroth,  but  he  thought  better 
of  it,  and  said  : 

'^  In  heaven's  name  let  them  come,  then." 

"Oh,  f/iey'll  come,"  returned  the  captain.  "I  have  seen 
the  big  room  fixed  a' purpose,  with  my  eyes." 

"  But  will  you,"  said  Martin,  seeing  that  the  captain  was 
about  to  go — "  will  you  at  least  tell  me  this  ?  What  do  they 
want  to  see  me  for  ?  what  have  I  done  ?  and  how  do  they 
happen  to  have  such  a  sudden  interest  in  me  ?  " 

Captain  Kedgick  put  a  thumb  and  three  fingers  to  each 
side  of  the  brim  of  his  hat;  lifted  it  a  little  way  off  his  head; 
put  it  on  again  carefully;  passed  one  hand  all  down  his  face, 
beginning  at  the  forehead  and  ending  at  the  chin  ;  looked 
at  Martin;  then  at  Mark;  then  at  Martin  again;  winked,  and 
walked  out. 

"Upon  my  life,  now!"  said  Martin,  bringing  his  hand 
heavily  upon  the  table  ;  "  such  a  perfectly  unaccountable 
fellow  as  that,  I  never  saw.  Mark,  what  do  you  say  to  this  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  his  partner,  "  my  opinion  is  that  we 
must  have  got  to  the  most  remarkable  man  in  the  country 
at  last.     So  I  hope  there's  an  end  to  the  breed,  sir." 

Although  this  made  Martin  laugh,  it  couldn't  keep  off 
two  o'clock.  Punctually,  as  the  hour  struck,  Captain 
Kedgick  returned  to  hand  him  to  the  room  of  state  ;  and  he 
had  no  sooner  got  him  safe  there,  than  he  bawled  down  the 
staircase  to  his  fellow-citizens  below,  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
was  "  receiving." 

Up  they  came  with  a  rush.  Up  they  came  until  the  room 
was  full,  and,  through  the  open  door,  a  dismal  perspective 
of  more  to  come,  was  shown  upon  the  stairs.  One  after 
another,  one  after  another,  dozen  after  dozen,  score  after 
score,  more,  more,  more,  up  they  came,  all  shaking  hands 
with  Martin.  Such  varieties  of  hands,  the  thick,  the  thin, 
the  short,  the  long,  the  fat,  the  lean,  the  coarse,  the  fine  ; 
such  differences  of  temperature;  the  hot,  the  cold,  the  dry, 
the  moist,  the  flabby;  such  diversities  of  grasp;  the  tight, 
the  loose,  the  short-lived,  and  the  lingering  !  Still  up,  up, 
up,  more,  more,  more,  and  ever  and  anon  the  captain's  voice 
was  heard  above  the  crowd  :     ''  There's  more  below!  there's 


370  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

more  below.  Now,  gentlemen,  you  that  have  been  intro- 
duced to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  will  you  clear,  gentlemen  ?  Will 
you  clear  ?  Will  you  be  so  good  as  clear,  gentlemen,  and 
make  a  little  room  for  more  ?  " 

Regardless  of  the  captain's  cries,  they  didn't  clear  at  all, 
but  stood  there,  bolt  upright  and  staring.  Two  gentlemen 
connected  with  the  Watertoast  Gazette  had  come  express  to 
get  the  matter  for  an  article  on  Martin.  They  had  agreed 
to  divide  the  labor.  One  of  them  took  him  below  the  waist- 
coat; one  above.  Each  stood  directly  in  front  of  his  sub- 
ject with  his  head  a  little  on  one  side,  intent  on  his  depart- 
ment. If  Martin  put  one  boot  before  the  other,  the  lower 
gentleman  was  down  upon  him;  he  rubbed  a  pimple  on  his 
nose,  and  the  upper  gentleman  boolced  it.  He  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak,  and  the  same  gentleman  was  on  one  knee 
before  him,  looking  in  at  his  teeth,  with  the  nice  scrutiny  of 
a  dentist.  Amateurs  in  the  physiognomical  and  phrenolog- 
ical sciences  roved  about  him  with  watchful  eyes  and  itching 
fingers,  and  sometimes  one,  more  daring  than  the  rest,  made 
a  mad  grasp  at  the  back  of  his  head,  and  vanished  in  the 
crowd.  They  had  him  in  all  points  of  view — in  front,  in 
profile,  three-quarter  face  and  behind.  Those  who  were 
not  professional  or  scientific,  audibly  exchanged  opinions  on 
his  looks.  New  lights  shone  in  upon  him  in  respect  of  his 
nose.  Contradictory  rumors  were  abroad  on  the  subject  of 
his  hair.  And  still  the  captain's  voice  was  heard — so  stifled 
by  the  concourse,  that  he  seemed  to  speak  from  underneath 
a  feather-bed — exclaiming,  "  Gentlemen,  you  that  have 
been  introduced  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  will  you  clear  ? " 

Even  when  they  began  to  clear,  it  was  no  better:  for  then 
a  stream  of  gentlemen,  every  one  with  a  lady  on  each  arm 
(exactly  like  the  chorus  to  the  national  anthem  when  royalty 
goes  in  state  to  the  play),  came  gliding  in  ;  every  new  group 
fresher  than  the  last,  and  bent  on  staying  to  the  latest 
moment.  If  they  spoke  to  him,  which  was  not  often,  they 
invariably  asked  the  same  questions,  in  the  same  tone,  with 
no  more  remorse,  or  delicacy,  or  consideration,  than  if  he 
had  been  a  figure  of  stone,  purchased,  and  paid  for,  and  set 
up  there,  for  their  delight.  Even  when,  in  the  slow  course 
of  time,  these  died  off,  it  was  as  bad  as  ever,  if  not  worse  ; 
for  then  the  boys  grew  bold,  and  came  in  as  a  class  of  them- 
selves, and  did  every  thing  that  the  grown-up  people  had 
done.  Uncouth  stragglers  too,  appeared  ;  men  of  a  ghostly 
kind,  who  being  in,  didn't  know  how  to  get  out  again  :  inso- 


MARTIN  CIlUZZLEWrr.  371 

much  that  one  silent  gentleman  with  glazed  and  fishy  eyes, 
and  only  one  button  on  his  waistcoat  (which  was  a  very 
large  metal  one,  and  shone  prodigiously),  got  behind  the 
door,  and  stood  there,  like  a  clock,  long  after  every  body 
else  was  gone. 

Martin  felt,  from  pure  fatigue,  and  heat,  and  worry,  as  if 
he  could  have  fallen  on  the  ground  and  willingly  remained 
there,  if  they  would  but  have  had  the  mercy  to  leave  him 
alone.  But  as  letters  and  messages  threatening  his  public 
denouncement  if  he  didn't  see  the  senders,  poured  in  like 
hail  ;  and  as  more  visitors  came  while  he  took  his  coffee  by 
himself  ;  and  as  Mark,  with  all  his  vigilance,  was  unable  to 
keep  them  from  the  door,  he  resolved  to  go  to  bed.  Not 
that  he  felt  at  all  sure  of  bed  being  any  protection,  but  that 
he  might  not  leave  a  forlorn  hope  untried. 

He  had  communicated  this  design  to  Mark,  and  was  on 
the  eve  of  escaping,  when  the  door  was  thrown  open  in  a 
great  hurry,  and  an  elderly  gentleman  entered,  bringing  with 
him  a  lady  who  certainly  could  not  be  considered  young — 
that  was  matter  of  fact ;  and  probably  could  not  be  consid- 
ered handsome — but  that  was  matter  of  opinion.  She  was 
very  straight,  very  tall,  and  not  at  all  flexible  in  face  or  fig- 
ure. On  her  head  she  wore  a  great  straw  bonnet,  with  trim- 
mings of  the  same,  in  which  she  looked  as  if  she  had  been 
thatched  by  an  unskillful  laborer  ;  and  in  her  hand  she  held 
a  most  enormous  fan. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  believe  ?  "  said  the  gentleman. 

"  That  is  my  name." 

''  Sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  pressed  for  time." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  thought  Martin. 

''  I  go  back  toe  my  home,  sir,"  pursued  the  gentleman, 
"by  the  return  train,  which  starts  immediate.  Start  is  not 
a  word  you  use  in  your  country,  sir." 

"  Oh  yes,  it  is,"  said  Martin. 

"You  air  mistaken,  sir,"  returned  the  gentleman,  with 
great  decision  ;  "  but  we  will  not  pursue  the  subject,  lest  it 
should  awake  your  preju-dlce.     Sir,  Mrs.  Hominy." 

Martin  bowed. 

"  Mrs.  Hominy,  sir,  is  the  lady  of  Major  Hominy,  one  of 
our  chicest  spirits  ;  and  belongs  toe  one  of  our  most  aristo- 
cratic families.  You  air,  p'raps,  acquainted,  sir,  with  Mrs. 
Uominy's  writings  ? " 

Martin  couldn't  say  he  was. 

"  You  have  much  toe  learn,  and  toe  enjoy,  sir,"   said  the 


372  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

gentleman.  "  Mrs.  Hominy  is  going  toe  stay  until  the  end 
of  the  fall,  sir,  with  her  married  daughter  at  the  settlement 
of  New  Thermopylae,  three  days  this  side  of  Eden.  Any 
attention,  sir,  that  you  can  show  toe  Mrs.  Hom.iny  upon  the 
journey,  will  be  very  grateful  toe  the  major  and  our  fellow- 
citizens.  Mrs.  Hominy,  I  wish  you  good-night,  ma'am,  and 
a  pleasant  pro-gress  on  your  rout  !  " 

Martin  could  scarcely  believe  it  ;  but  he  had  gone,  and 
Mrs.  Hominy  was  drinking  the  milk. 

"  A'most  used-up  I  am,  I  do  declare  !  "  she  observed. 
"  The  jolting  in  the  cars  is  pretty  nigh  as  bad  as  if  the  rail 
was  full  of  snags  and  sawyers." 

"  Snags  and  sawyers,  ma'am  ? "  said  Martin. 

"  Well,  then,  I  do  suppose  you'll  hardly  realize  my  mean- 
ing, sir,"  said  Mrs.  Hominy.     "  My  !  Only  think  !  Z>^tell  !  " 

It  did  not  appear  that  these  expressions,  although  they 
seemed  to  conclude  with  an  urgent  entreaty,  stood  in  need 
of  any  answer ;  for  Mrs.  Hominy,  untying  her  bonnet- 
strings,  observed  that  she  would  withdraw  to  lay  that  article 
of  dress  aside,  and  would  return  immediately. 

"  Mark  !  "  said  Martin.  "  Touch  me,  will  you.  Am  I 
awake  ? " 

'^  Hominy  is,  sir,"  returned  his  partner  ;  "broad  awake  ! 
Just  the  sort  of  woman,  sir,  as  would  be  discovered  with  her 
eyes  wide  open,  and  her  mind  a-working  for  her  country's 
good,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night." 

They  had  no  opportunity  of  saying  more,  for  Mrs.  Hominy 
stalked  in  again  ;  very  erect  in  proof  of  her  aristocratic 
blood  ;  and  holding  in  her  clasped  hands  a  red  cotton  pocket- 
handkerchief,  perhaps  a  parting  gift  from  that  choice  spirit, 
the  major.  She  had  laid  aside  her  bonnet,  and  now  ap- 
peared in  a  highly  aristocratic  and  classical  cap,  meeting 
beneath  her  chin  ;  a  style  of  head-dress  so  admirably 
adapted  to  her  countenance,  that  if  the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi 
had  appeared  in  the  lappets  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  a  more  complete 
effect  could  not  have  been  produced. 

Martin  handed  her  to  a  chair.  Her  first  words  arrested 
him  before  he  could  get  back  to  his  own  seat. 

''Pray,  sir!"  said  Mrs.  Hominy,  "where  do  you  hail 
from  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  dull  of  comprehension,"  answered  Mar- 
tin, ''being  extremely  tired;  but,  upon  my  word,  I  don't 
understand  you." 

Mrs.    Hominy  shook  her  head  with   a  melancholy  smile 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  373 

that  said,  not  inexpressively,  ''  They  corrupt  even  the  lan- 
guage in  that  old  country  !  "  and  added  then,  as  coming 
down  a  step  or  two  to  meet  his  low  capacity,  "  Where  was 
you  rose  ? " 

*'  Oh  !  "  said  Martin,  ''  I  was  born  in  Kent." 

^' And  how  do  you  like  our  country,  sir?"  asked  Mrs, 
Hominy. 

"  Very  much  indeed,"  said  Martin,  half  asleep.  "  At  least 
— that  is — pretty  well,  ma'am." 

"  Most  strangers — and  partick'larly  Britishers — are  much 
surprised  by  what  they  see  in  the  U-nited  States,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Hominy. 

"  They  have  excellent  reason  to  be  so,  ma'am,"  said  Mar- 
tin,    **  I  never  was  so  much  surprised  in  all  my  life." 

"  Our  institutions  make  our  people  smart  much,  sir,"  Mrs, 
Hominy  remarked. 

"  The  most  short-sighted  man  could  see  that  at  a  glance, 
with  his  naked  eye,"  said  Martin, 

Mrs.  Hominy  was  a  philosopher  and  an  authoress,  and 
consequently  had  a  pretty  strong  digestion  ;  but  this  coarse, 
this  indecorous  phrase,  was  almost  too  much  for  her.  For  a 
gentleman  sitting  alone  with  a  lady — although  the  door 
7eras  open — to  talk  about  a  naked  eye  ! 

A  long  interval  elapsed  before  even  she,  woman  of  mas- 
culine and  towering  intellect  though  she  was,  could  call  up 
fortitude  enough  to  resume  the  conversation.  But  Mrs. 
Hominy  was  a  traveler,  Mrs.  Hominy  was  a  writer  of 
reviews  and  analytical  disquisitions.  Mrs.  Hominy  had  had 
her  letters  from  abroad,  beginning  ''  My  ever  dearest  blank," 
and  signed  "  The  Mother  of  the  Modern  Gracchi  "  (meaning 
the  married  Miss  Hominy),  regularly  printed  in  a  public  jour- 
nal, with  all  the  indignation  in  capitals,  and  all  the  sarcasm 
in  italics.  Mrs.  Hominy  had  looked  on  foreign  countries 
with  the  eye  of  a  perfect  republican  hot  from  the  modern  oven  ; 
and  Mrs.  Hominy  could  talk  (or  write)  about  them  by  the  hour 
together.  So  Mrs.  Hominy  at  last  came  down  on  Martin 
heavily,  and  as  he  was  fast  asleep  she  had  it  all  her  own 
way,  and  bruised  him  to  her  heart's  content. 

It  is  no  great  matter  what  Mrs.  Hominy  said,  save  she  had 
learned  it  from  the  cant  of  a  class  and  a  large  class  of  her 
fellow-countrymen,  who,  in  their  every  word,  avow  them- 
selves to  be  as  senseless  to  the  high  principles  on  which 
America  sprang,  a  nation,  into  life,  as  any  Orson  in  her  leg- 
islative halls.     Who  are  no  more  capable  of  feeling,  or  of  car- 


374  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ing  if  they  did  feel,  that  by  reducing  their  own  country  to  the 
ebb  of  honest  men's  contempt,  they  put  in  hazard  the  rights 
of  nations  yet  unborn,  and  very  progress  of  the  human  race, 
than  are  the  swine  who  wallow  in  the  streets.  Who  think 
crying  out  to  other  nations,  old  in  their  iniquity,  "  We  are  no 
worse  than  you  !  "  (No  worse  !)  is  high  defense  and  van- 
tage ground  enough  for  that  republic,  but  yesterday  let  loose 
upon  her  noble  course,  and  but  to-day  so  maimed  and  lame, 
so  full  of  sores  and  ulcers,  foul  to  the  eye  and  almost  hope- 
less to  the  sense,  that  her  best  friends  turn  from  the  loath- 
some creature  with  disgust.  Who,  having  by  their  ancestors 
declared  and  won  their  independence,  because  they  would 
not  bend  the  knee  to  certain  public  vices  and  corruptions, 
and  would  not  abrogate  the  truth,  run  riot  in  the  bad,  and 
turn  their  backs  upon  the  good  ;  and  lying  down  contented 
with  the  wretched  boast  that  other  temples  also  are  of  glass, 
and  stones  which  batter  theirs  may  be  flung  back  ;  show 
themselves  in  that  alone,  as  immeasurably  behind  the  import 
of  the  trust  they  hold,  and  as  unworthy  to  possess  it,  as  if 
the  sordid  hucksterings  of  all  their  little  governments — each 
one  a  kingdom  in  its  small  depravity — were  brought  into  a 
heap  for  evidence  against  them. 

Martin  by  degrees  became  so  far  awake,  that  he  had  a 
sense  of  a  terrible  oppression  on  his  mind  ;  an  imperfect 
dream  that  he  had  murdered  a  particular  friend,  and 
couldn't  get  rid  of  the  body.  When  his  eyes  opened  it  was 
staring  him  full  in  the  face.  There  was  the  horrible 
Hominy  talking  deep  truths  in  a  melodious  snuffle,  and 
pouring  forth  her  mental  endowments  to  such  an  extent 
that  the  major's  bitterest  enemy,  hearing  her,  would 
have  forgiven  him  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Mar- 
tin might  have  done  something  desperate  if  the 
gong  had  not  sounded  for  supper;  but  sound  it  did  most 
opportunely;  and  having  stationed  Mrs.  Hominy  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  table,  he  took  refuge  at  the  lower  end  him- 
self; whence,  after  a  hasty  meal,  he  stole  away,  while  the 
lady  was  yet  busied  with  dried  beef  and  a  whole  saucer-full 
of   pickled  fixings. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  Mrs. 
Hominy's  freshness  next  day,  or  of  the  avidity  with  which 
she  went  headlong  into  moral  philosophy  at  breakfast.  Some 
little  additional  degree  of  asperity,  perhaps,  was  visible  in 
her  features,  but  not  more  than  the  pickles  would  have  natur- 
ally produced.     All  that  day  she  clung  to  Martin.     She  sat 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  375 

beside  him  while  he  received  his  friends  (for  there  was 
another  reception,  yet  more  numerous  than  the  former),  pro- 
pounded theories,  and  answered  imaginary  objections,  so 
that  Martin  really  began  to  think  he  must  be  dreaming,  and 
speaking  for  two;  she  quoted  interminable  passages  from 
certain  essays  on  government,  written  by  herself;  used  the 
major's  pocket-handkerchief  as  if  the  snuffle  were  a  tempor- 
ary malady,  of  which  she  determined  to  rid  herself  by  some 
means  or  other;  and  in  short,  was  such  a  remarkable  com- 
panion, that  Martin  quite  settled  it  between  himself  and  his 
conscience,  that  in  any  new  settlement  it  would  be  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  have  such  a  person  knocked  on  the  head 
for  the  general  peace  of  society. 

In  the  meantime  Mark  was  busy,  from  early  in  the  morn- 
ing until  late  at  night,  in  getting  on  board  the  steamboat 
such  provisions,  tools,  and  other  necessaries,  as  they  had 
been  forewarned  it  would  be  wise  to  take.  The  purchase  of 
these  things,  and  the  settlement  of  their  bill  at  the  National 
reduced  their  finances  to  so  low  an  ebb,  that  if  the  captain 
had  delayed  his  departure  any  longer,  they  would  have  been 
in  almost  as  bad  a  plight  as  the  unfortunate  poorer  emigrants 
who  (seduced  on  board  by  solemn  advertisement),  had  been 
living  on  the  lower  deck  a  whole  week,  and  exhausting  their 
miserable  stock  of  provisions  before  the  voyage  commenced. 
There  they  were,  all  huddled  together,  with  the  engine  and 
fires.  Farmers  who  had  never  seen  a  plow  ;  woodmen 
who  had  never  used  an  ax  ;  builders  who  couldn't  make  a 
box  ;  cast  out  of  their  own  land,  with  not  a  hand  to  aid  them, 
newly  come  into  an  unknown  world,  children  in  helplessness 
but  men  in  wants,  with  younger  children  at  their  backs,  to 
live  or  die  as  it  might  happen  ! 

The  morning  came,  and  they  would  start  at  noon.  Noon 
came,  and  they  would  start  at  night.  But  nothing  is  eternal 
in  this  world,  not  even  the  procrastination  of  an  American 
skipper;  and  at  night  all  was  ready. 

Dispirited  and  weary  to  the  last  degree,  but  a  greater  lion 
than  ever  (he  had  done  nothing  all  the  afternoon  but  answer 
letters  from  strangers;  half  of  them  about  nothing,  half  about 
borrowing  money,  and  all  requiring  an  instantaneous  reply), 
Martin  walked  down  the  wharf,  through  a  concourse  of  peo- 
ple with  Mrs.  Hominy  upon  his  arm;  and  went  on  board. 
But  Mark  was  bent  on  solving  the  riddle  of  this  lionship,  if 
he  could;  and  so,  not  without  the  risk  of  being  left  behmd, 
ran  back  to  the  hotel. 


375  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Captain  Kedgick  was  sitting  in  the  colonnade,  with  a  julep 
on  his  knee,  and  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  He  caught  Mark's 
eye,  and  said: 

^'  Why,  what  the  'tarnal  brings  you  here  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  plainly  what  it  is,  captain,"  said  Mark.  "  I 
want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  A  man  may  as^  a  question  so  he  may,"  returned  Kedgick, 
strongly  implying  that  another  man  might  not  answer  a 
question,  so  he  mightn't. 

"  What  have  they  been  making  so  much  of  him  for,  now  ?" 
said  Mark  slyly.     ''  Come  !  " 

*'  Our  people  like  ex-citement,"  answered  Kedgick,  sucking 
his  cigar. 

"  But  how  has  he  excited  'em  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

The  captain  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  half  inclined  to 
unburden  his  mind  of  a  cr.pital  joke. 

''  You  air  agoing  ? "  he  said. 

**  Going  !  "  cried  Mark.     "  Ain't  every  moment  precious?  " 

**  Our  people  like  ex-citement,"  said  the  captain,  whisper- 
ing. "  He  ain't  like  emigrants  in  gin'ral;  and  he  excited 
'em  along  of  this;  "  he  winked  and  burst  into  a  smothered 
laugh;  "  along  of  this.  Scadder  is  a  smart  man,  and — and — 
nobody  as  goes  to  Eden  ever  comes  back  a-live  !  " 

The  wharf  was  close  at  hand,  and  at  that  instant  Mark 
could  hear  them  shouting  out  his  name;  could  even  hear 
Martin  calling  to  him  to  make  haste,  or  they  would  be  sepa- 
rated. It  was  too  late  to  mend  the  matter,  or  put  any  face 
upon  it  but  the  best.  He  gave  the  captain  a  parting  bene- 
diction, and  ran  off  like  a  race-horse. 

"  Mark  !     Mark  !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  Here  am  I,  sir  !  "  shouted  Mark,  suddenly  replying  from 
the  edge  of  the  quay,  and  leaping  at  a  bound  on  board. 
"Never  was  half  so  jolly,  sir.  All  right!  Haul  in  !  Go 
a-head  !  " 

The  sparks  from  the  wood  fire  streamed  upward  from  the 
two  chimneys,  as  if  the  vessel  were  a  great  firework  just 
lighted  ;  and  they  roared  away  upon  the  dark  water. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  377 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MARTIN  AND  HIS  PARTNER  TAKE  POSSESSION  OF  THEIR 
ESTATE.  THE  JOYFUL  OCCASION  IN  VOLVES  SOME  FURTHER 
ACCOUNT  OF  EDEN. 

There  happened  to  be  on  board  the  steamboat  several 
gentlemen  passengers,  of  the  same  stamp  as  Martin's  New 
York  friend  Mr.  Bevan  ;  and  in  their  society  he  was  cheer- 
ful and  happy.  They  released  him  as  well  as  they  could 
from  the  intellectual  entanglements  of  Mrs.  Hominy  ;  and 
exhibited,  in  all  they  said  and  did,  so  much  good  sense  and 
high  feeling,  that  he  could  not  like  them  too  well.  "  If  this 
were  a  republic  of  intellect  and  worth,"  he  said,  **  instead 
of  vaporing  and  jobbing,  they  would  not  want  the  levers  to 
keep  it  in  motion." 

"  Having  good  tools,  and  using  bad  ones,"  returned  Mr. 
Tapley,  "  would  look  as  if  they  was  rather  a  poor  sort  of 
carpenters,  sir,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

Martin  nodded.  "  As  if  their  work  were  infinitely  above 
their  powers  and  purpose,  Mark  ;  and  they  botched  it  in 
consequence." 

"  The  best  on  it  is,"  said  Mark,  "  that  when  they  do  hap- 
pen to  make  a  decent  stroke,  such  as  better  workmen,  with 
no  such  opportunities,  make  every  day  of  their  lives  and 
think  nothing  of,  they  begin  to  sing  out  so  surprising  loud. 
Take  notice  of  my  words,  sir.  If  ever  the  defaulting  part 
of  this  here  country  pays  its  debts — along  of  finding  that  not 
paying  'em  won't  do  in  a  commercial  point  of  view,  you  see, 
and  is  inconvenient  in  its  consequences — they'll  take  such  a 
shine  out  of  it,  and  make  such  bragging  speeches,  that  a  man 
might  suppose  no  borrowed  money  had  ever  been  paid  afore, 
since  the  world  was  first  begun.  That's  the  way  they  gam- 
mon each  other,  sir.  Bless  you,  /  know  'em.  Take  notice 
of  my  words,  now  !  " 

''  You  seem  to  be  growing  profoundly  sagacious  !  "  cried 
Martin,  laughing. 

"  Whether  that  is,"  thought  Mark,  "  because  I'm  a  day's 
journey  nearer  Eden,  and  am  brightening  up,  afore  I  die,  I 
can't  say.  P'rhaps  by  the  time  I  get  there,  I  shall  have 
growed  into  a  prophet." 

He  gave  no  utterance  to  these  sentiments  ;  but  the 
excessive  joviality  they  inspired  within  him,   and  the  merri- 


378  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ment  they  brought  upon  his  shining  face,  were  quite  enough 
for  Martin.  Although  he  might  sometimes  profess  to  make 
light  of  his  partner's  inexhaustible  cheerfulness,  and  might 
sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Zephaniah  Scadder,  find  him 
too  jocose  a  commentator,  he  was  always  sensible  of  the 
effect  of  his  example  in  rousing  him  to  hopefulness  and 
courage.  Whether  he  were  in  the  humor  to  profit  by  it, 
mattered  not  a  jot.  It  was  contagious,  and  he  could  not 
choose  but  be  affected. 

At  first  they  parted  with  some  of  their  passengers  once  or 
twice  a  day,  and  took  in  others  to  replace  them.  But  by 
degrees,  the  towns  upon  their  route  became  more  thinly 
scattered  ;  and  for  many  hours  together  they  would  see  no 
other  habitations  than  the  huts  of  the  v/ood-cutters,  where 
the  vessel  stopped  for  fuel.  Sky,  wood,  and  water,  all  the 
livelong  day  ;  and  heat  that  blistered  every  thing  it 
touched. 

On  they  toiled  through  great  solitudes,  where  the  trees 
upon  the  banks  grew  thick  and  close  ;  and  floated  in  the 
stream  ;  and  held  up  shriveled  arms  from  out  the  river's 
depths  ;  and  slid  down  from  the  margin  of  the  land,  half 
growing,  half  decaying,  in  the  miry  water.  On  through  the 
weary  day  and  melancholy  night  ;  beneath  the  burning  sun, 
and  in  the  mist  and  vapor  of  the  evening  ;  on,  until  return 
appeared  impossible,  and  restoration  to  their  home  a  misera- 
ble dream. 

They  had  now  but  few  people  on  board,  and  these  few 
were  as  flat,  as  dull,  and  stagnant,  as  the  vegetation  that 
oppressed  their  eyes.  No  sound  of  cheerfulness  or  hope  was 
heard  ;  no  pleasant  talk  beguiled  the  tardy  time  ;  no  little 
group  made  common  cause  against  the  dull  depression  of  the 
scene.  But  that,  at  certain  periods,  they  swallowed  food 
together  from  a  common  trough,  it  might  have  been  old 
Charon's  boat,  conveying   melancholy  shades  to   judgment. 

At  length  they  drew  near  New  Thermopylae  ;  where,  that 
same  evening,  Mrs.  Hominy  would  disembark.  A  gleam  of 
comfort  sunk  into  Martin's  bosom  when  she  told  him  this. 
Mark  needed  none  ;  but  he  was  not  displeased. 

It  was  almost  night  when  they  came  alongside  the  land- 
ing-place. A  steep  bank  with  an  hotel,  like  a  barn,  on  the 
top  of  it  ;  a  wooden  store  or  two  ;  and  a  few  scattered 
sheds. 

''  You  sleep  here  to-night,  and  go  on  in  the  morning,  I 
suppose,  ma'am  ? "  said  Martin. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  379 

**  Where  should  I  go  on  to  ?  "  cried  the  mother  of  the 
modern  Gracchi. 

"  To  New  Thermopylae." 

"  My  !  ain't  I  there  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hominy. 

Martin  looked  for  it  all  round  the  darkening  panorama ; 
but  he  couldn't  see  if,  and  was  obliged  to  say  so. 

''  Why  that's  it !  "  cried  Mrs.  Hominy,  pointing  to  the  sheds 
just  mentioned. 

''  That!''  exclaimed  Martin. 

"  Ah  !  that ;  and  work  it  which  way  you  will,  it  whips 
Eden,"  said  Mrs.  Hominy,  nodding  her  head  with  great 
expression. 

The  married  Miss  Hominy,  who  had  come  on  board  with 
her  husband,  gave  to  this  statement  her  most  unqualified 
support,  as  did  that  gentleman  also.  Martin  gratefully 
declined  their  invitation  to  regale  himself  at  their  house 
during  the  half  hour  of  the  vessel's  stay  ;  and  having  escorted 
Mrs.  Hominy  and  the  red  pocket-handkerchief  (which  was 
still  on  active  service),  safely  across  the  gangway,  returned 
in  a  thoughtful  mood  to  watch  the  emigrants  as  they 
removed  their  goods  ashore. 

Mark,  as  he  stood  beside  him,  glanced  in  his  face  from 
time  to  time,  anxious  to  discover  what  effect  this  dialogue 
had  had  upon  him,  and  not  unwilling  that  his  hopes  should 
be  dashed  before  they  reached  their  destination,  so  that  the 
blow  he  feared,  might  be  broken  in  its  fall.  But  saving  that 
he  sometimes  looked  up  quickly  at  the  poor  erections  on  the 
hill,  he  gave  him  no  clew  to  what  was  passing  in  his  mind, 
until  they  were  again  upon  their  way. 

"Mark,"  he  said  then,  ''are  there  really  none  but  our- 
selves on  board  this  boat  who  are  bound  for  Eden  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  sir.  Most  of  'em,  as  you  know,  have 
stopped  short  ;  and  the  few  that  are  left  are  going  further 
on.     What  matters  that  !    More  room  there  for  us,  sir." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !  "  said  Martin.  "  But  I  was  thinking  " 
— and  there  he  paused. 

"  Yes,  sir  !  "  observed  Mark. 

"  How  odd  it  was  that  the  people  should  have  arranged 
to  try  their  fortune  at  a  wretched  hole  like  that,  for  instance, 
when  there  is  such  a  much  better,  and  such  a  verv  different 
kind  of  place,  near  at  hand,  as  one  may  say." 

He  spoke  in  a  tone  so  very  different  from  his  usual  confi- 
dence, and  with  such  an  obvious  dread  of  Mark's  reply,  that 
the  good-natured  fellow  was  full  of  pity. 


38o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Why,  you  know,  sir,"  said  Mark,  as  gently  as  he  could 
by  any  means  insinuate  the  observation,  "  we  must  guard 
against  being  too  sanguine.  There's  no  occasion  for  it, 
either,  because  we're  determined  to  make  the  best  of  every 
thing,  after  we  know  the  worst  of  it.     Ain't  we,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  looked  at  him,  but  answered  not  a  word. 

"  Even  Eden,  you  know,  ain't  all  built,"  said  Mark. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  man,"  cried  Martin  angrily, 
"  don't  talk  of  Eden  in  the  same  breath  with  that  place. 
Are  you  mad  ?  There — God  forgive  me  ! — don't  think 
harshly  of  me  for  my  temper  !  " 

After  that,  he  turned  away,  and  walked  to  and  fro  upon 
the  deck  full  two  hours.  Nor  did  he  speak  again,  except  to 
say,  "  Good-night,"  until  next  day  ;  nor  even  then  upon  this 
subject,  but  on  other  topics  quite  foreign  to  the  purpose. 

As  they  proceeded  further  on  their  track,  and  came  more 
and  more  toward  their  journey's  end,  the  monotonous  deso- 
lation of  the  scene  increased  to  that  degree,  that  for  any 
redeeming  feature  it  presented  to  their  eyes,  they  might  have 
entered  in  the  body,  on  the  grim  domains  of  Giant  Despair. 
A  flat  morass,  bestrewn  with  fallen  timber  ;  a  marsh  on  which 
the  good  growth  of  the  earth  seemed  to  have  been  wrecked 
and  cast  away,  that  from  its  decomposing  ashes  vile  and 
ugly  things  might  rise  ;  where  the  very  trees  took  the  aspect 
of  huge  weeds,  begotten  of  the  slime  from  which  they 
sprung,  by  the  hot  sun  that  burned  them  up  ;  where  fatal 
maladies,  seeking  whom  they  might  infect,  came  forth  at 
night,  in  misty  shapes,  and  creeping  out  upon  the  water, 
hunted  them  like  specters  until  day  ;  where  even  the 
blessed  sun  shining  down  on  festering  elements  of  corrup- 
tion and  disease,  became  a  horror  ;  this  was  the  realm  of 
hope  through  which  they  moved. 

At  last  they  stopped.  At  Eden  too.  The  waters  of  the 
deluge  might  have  left  it  but  a  week  before,  so  choked  with 
slime  and  matted  growth  was  the  hideous  swamp  which  bore 
that  name. 

There  being  no  depth  of  water  close  in  shore,  they  landed 
from  the  vessel's  boat,  with  all  their  goods  beside  them. 
There  were  a  few  log-houses  visible  among  the  dark  trees — 
the  best,  a  cow-shed  or  a  rude  stable.  But  for  the  wharves, 
the  market-place,  the  public  buildings  ! 

*'  Here  comes  a  Edener,"  said  Mark.  "  He'll  get  us  help 
to  carry  these  things  up.  Keep  a  good  heart,  sir.  Hallo 
there  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  381 

The  man  advanced  toward  them  through  the  thickening 
gloom,  very  slowly,  leaning  on  a  stick.  As  he  drew  nearer, 
they  observed  that  he  was  pale  and  worn,  and  that  his  anx- 
ious eyes  were  deeply  sunken  in  his  head.  His  dress  of  home- 
spun blue  hung  about  him  in  rags  ;  his  feet  and  head  were 
bare.  He  sat  down  on  a  stump  half  way,  and  beckoned 
them  to  come  to  him.  When  they  complied,  he  put  his 
hand  upon  his  side  as  if  in  pain,  and  while  he  fetched  his 
breath  stared  at  them,  wondering. 

*'  Strangers  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

**  The  very  same,"  said  Mark.     "  How  are  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  I've  had  the  fever  very  bad,"  he  answered  faintly.  "  I 
haven't  stood  upright  these  many  weeks.  Those  are  your 
notions  I  see,"  pointing  to  their  property. 

'' Yes,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  they  are.  You  couldn't  recom- 
mend us  some  one  as  would  lend  a  hand  to  help  carry  'em 
up  to  the — to  the  town,  could  you,  sir  ?  " 

'*  My"  eldest  son  would  do  it  if  he  could,"  replied  the  man; 
"  but  to-day  he  has  his  chill  upon  him,  and  is  lying  wrapped 
up  in  the  blanket.     My  youngest  died  last  week." 

'*  I'm  sorry  for  it,  governor,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Mark, 
shaking  him  by  the  hand.  "  Don't  mind  us.  Come  along 
with  me,  and  I'll  give  you  an  arm  back.  The  goods  is  safe 
enough,  sir,"  to  Martin  ;  ''  there  ain't  many  people  about  to 
make  away  with  'em.     What  a  comfort  that  is  !  " 

"  No,"  cried  the  man.  *'  You  must  look  for  such  folk 
here,"  knocking  his  stick  upon  the  ground,  "  or  yonder  in 
the  bush,  toward  the  north.  We've  buried  most  of  'em.  The 
rest  have  gone  away.  Them  that  we  have  here  don't  come 
out  at  night." 

"  The  night  air  ain't  quite  wholesome,  I  suppose,"  said 
Mark. 

"  It's  deadly  poison,"  was  the  settler's  answer. 

Mark  showed  no  more  uneasiness  than  if  it  had  been  com- 
mended to  him  as  ambrosia  ;  but  he  gave  the  man  his  arm, 
and  as  they  went  along  explained  to  him  the  nature  of  their 
purchase,  and  inquired  where  it  lay.  Close  to  his  own  log- 
house,  he  said  ;  so  close  that  he  had  used  their  dwelling  as  a 
store-house  for  some  corn  ;  they  must  excuse  it  that  night, 
but  he  would  endeavor  to  get  it  taken  out  upon  the  morrow. 
He  then  gave  them  to  understand,  as  an  additional  scrap  of 
local  chit-chat,  that  he  had  buried  the  last  proprietor  with 
his  own  hands  ;  a  piece  of  information  which  Mark  also 
received  without  the  least  abatement  of  his  equanimity. 


3S2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

In  a  word,  he  conducted  them  to  a  miserable  cabin,  rudely 
constructed  of  the  trunks  of  trees,  the  door  of  which  had 
either  fallen  down  or  been  carried  away  long  ago,  and  which 
was  consequently  open  to  the  wild  landscape  and  the  dark 
night.  Saving  for  the  little  store  he  had  mentioned,  it  was 
perfectly  bare  of  all  furniture  ;  but  they  had  left  a  chest 
upon  the  landing-place,  and  he  gave  them  a  rude  torch  in 
lieu  of  candle.  This  latter  acquisition  Mark  planted  in  the 
earth,  and  then  declaring  that  the  mansion  '*  looked  quite 
comfortable,"  hurried  Martin  off  again  to  help  bring  up  the 
chest.  And  all  the  way  to  the  landing-place  and  back,  Mark 
talked  incessantly,  as  if  he  would  infuse  into  his  partner's 
breast  some  faint  belief  that  they  had  arrived  under  the 
most  auspicious  and  cheerful  of  all  imaginable  circum- 
stances. 

But  many  a  man  who  would  have  stood  within  a  home 
dismantled,  strong  in  his  passion  and  design  of  vengeance, 
has  had  the  firmness  of  his  nature  conquered  by  the  raizing 
of  an  air-built  castle.  When  the  log-hut  received  them  for 
the  second  time,  Martin  lay  down  upon  the  ground  and  wept 
aloud. 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  great  terror  ; 
"  don't  do  that  !  Don't  do  that,  sir  !  Any  thing  but  that  ! 
It  never  helped  man,  woman,  or  child,  over  the  lowest  fence 
yet,  sir,  and  it  never  will.  Besides  it's  being  of  no  use  to 
you,  it's  worse  than  of  no  use  to  me,  for  the  least  sound  of  it 
will  knock  me  flat  down.  I  can't  stand  up  agin  it,  sir.  Any 
thing  but  that  !  " 

There  is  no  doubt  he  spoke  the  truth,  for  the  extraordi- 
nary alarm  with  which  he  looked  at  Martin  as  he  paused 
upon  his  knees  before  the  chest,  in  the  act  of  unlocking  it,  to 
say  these  words,  sufficiently  confirmed  him. 

*'  I  ask  your  forgiveness  a  thousand  times,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  Martin.  ''  I  couldn't  have  helped  it,  if  death  had  been 
the  penalty." 

**  Ask  my  forgiveness!  "  said  Mark,  with  his  accustomed 
cheerfulness,  as  he  proceeded  to  unpack  the  chest.  "  The 
head  partner  asking  forgiveness  of  Co.,  eh  ?  There  must  be 
something  wrong  in  the  firm  when  that  happens.  I  must 
have  the  books  inspected,  and  the  accounts  gone  over  imme- 
diate. Here  we  are.  Every  thing  in  its  proper  place. 
Here's  the  salt  pork.  Here's  the  biscuit.  Here's  the  whis- 
ky. Uncommon  good  it  smells  too.  Here's  the  tin  pot. 
This  tin  pot  is  a  small  fortun'  in  itself.     Here's  the  blankets. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLKWIT.  ;^^^ 

Here's  the  ax.  Who  says  we  ain't  got  a  first-rate  fit-out  ?  I 
feel  as  if  I  was  a  cadet  gone  out  to  Indy,  and  uiy  noble  father 
was  chairman  of  the  board  of  directors.  Now,  when  I've 
got  some  water  fron^  the  stream  afore  tlie  door  and  mixed 
the  grog,"  cried  Mark,  running  out  to  suit  tiie  action  to  the 
word,  ^'  there's  a  supper  ready,  comprising  every  deli- 
cacy of  the  season.  Here  we  are,  sir,  all  complete.  For 
what  we  are  going  to  receive,  et  cetrer.  Lord  bless  you,  sir, 
it's  very  like  a  gipsy  party!  " 

It  was  impossible  not  to  take  heart,  in  the  company  of 
such  a  man  as  this.  Martin  sat  upon  tlie  ground  beside  the 
box,  took  out  his  knife,  and  ate  and  drank  sturdily. 

"  Now  you  see,"  said  Mark,  when  they  had  made  a  hearty 
meal,  "  with  your  knife  and  mine,  I  sticks  this  blanket  right 
afore  the  door,  or  where,  in  a  state  of  high  civilization,  the 
door  would  l)e.  And  very  neat  it  looks.  Then  I  stops  the 
aperture  below,  by  i)utting  the  cliest  agin  it.  And  very 
neat  i/iaf  looks.  Then  there's  your  blanket,  sir.  Then 
here's  mine.  And  what's  to  hinder  our  passing  a  good 
night  ? " 

P'or  all  his  light-hearted  speaking,. it  was  long  before  he 
slej)t  himself.  He  wrapped  his  blanket  around  him,  put  the 
ax  ready  to  his  hand,  and  lay  across  the  threshold  of  the 
door,  too  anxious  and  too  watchful  to  close  his  eyes.  The 
novelty  of  their  dreary  situation,  the  dread  of  some  raj)acious 
animal  or  human  enemy,  the  terrible  uncertainty  of  their 
means  of  subsistence,  the  apprehension  of  death,  the  immense 
distance  and  the  host  of  obstacles  between  themselves  and 
Kngland,  were  fruitful  sources  of  dis([uiet  in  the  deep  silence 
of  the  night.  'J'hough  Martin  would  have  had  him  think 
otherwise,  Mark  felt  that  he  was  waking  also,  and  a  prey  to 
the  same  reflections.  This  was  almost  worse  than  all,  for  if 
he  began  to  brood  over  their  miseries  instead  of  trying  to 
make  head  against  tliem,  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  such 
a  state  of  mind  would  powerfully  assist  tlie  influence  of  the 
pestilent  climate.  Never  had  the  light  of  day  been  half 
so  woh^ome  to  his  eyes,  as  when  awakening  from  a  fitful 
doze,  Mark  saw  it  shining  through  tlie  blanket  in  the  door- 
way. 

He  stole  out  gently,  for  his  com})anion  was  sleeping  now; 
and  having  refreshed  himself  by  washing  in  the  river,  where  it 
flowed  before  the  door,  took  a  rough  survey  of  the  settle- 
ment. There  were  not  above  a  score  of  cabins  in  the  whole; 
lialf  of     these  ai)peared    untenanted;     all   uere   rotten   and 


384  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

decayed.  The  most  tottering,  abject,  and  forlorn  among 
them  was  called,  with  great  propriety,  the  bank,  and  national 
credit  office.  It  had  some  feeble  props  about  it,  but  was 
settling  deep  down  in  the  mud,  past  all  recovery. 

Here  and  there,  an  effort  had  been  made  to  clear  the  land, 
and  something  like  a  field  had  been  marked  out,  where, 
among  the  stumps  and  ashes  of  burned  trees,  a  scanty  crop  of 
Indian  corn  was  growing.  In  some  quarters,  a  snake  or  zig- 
zag fence  had  been  begun,  but  in  no  instance  had  it  been 
(  ompleted;  and  the  fallen  logs,  half  hidden  in  the  soil,  lay 
moldering  away.  Three  or  four  meager  dogs,  wasted  and 
vexed  with  hunger;  some  long-legged  pigs,  wandering  away 
into  the  woods  in  search  of  food;  some  children,  nearly 
naked,  gazing  at  him  from  the  huts,  were  all  the  living  things 
he  saw.  A  fetid  vapor,  hot  and  sickening  as  the  breath  of 
an  oven,  rose  up  from  the  earth,  and  hung  on  every  thing 
around;  and  as  his  foot-prints  sunk  into  the  marshy  ground, 
a  black  ooze  started  forth  to  blot  them  out. 

Their  own  land  was  mere  forest.  The  trees  had  grown 
so  thick  and  close  that  they  shouldered  one  another  out  of 
their  places,  and  the  weakest,  forced  into  shapes  of  strange 
distortion,  languished  like  cripple.  The  best  were  stunted, 
from  the  pressure  and  the  want  of  room;  and  high  about  the 
stems  of  all,  grew  long  rank  grass,  dank  weeds,  and  frowsy 
underwood,  not  devisable  into  their  separate  kinds,  but 
tangled  altogether  in  a  heap;  a  jungle  deep  and  dark,  with 
neither  earth  nor  water  at  its  roots,  but  putrid  matter,  formed 
of  the  pulpy  offal  of  the  two,  and  of  their  own  corruption. 

He  went  down  to  the  landing-place  where  they  had  left 
their  goods  last  night,  and  there  he  found  some  half-dozen 
men — wan  and  forlorn  to  look  at,  but  ready  enougli  to  assist — 
who  helped  him  to  carry  them  to  the  log-house.  They  shook 
their  heads  in  speaking  of  the  settlement,  and  had  no  comfort 
to  give  him.  Those  who  had  the  means  of  going  away,  had 
all  deserted  it.  They  who  were  left,  had  lost  their  wives, 
their  children,  friends,  or  brothers  there,  and  suffered  much 
themselves.  Most  of  them  were  ill  then;  none  were  the  men 
they  had  been  once.  They  frankly  offered  their  assistance 
and  advice,  and  leaving  him  for  that  time,  went  sadly  off 
upon  their  several  tasks. 

Martin  was  by  this  time  stirring;  but  he  had  greatly 
changed,  even  in  one  night.  He  was  very  pale  and  languid; 
he  spoke  of  pains  and  weakness  in  his  limbs,  and  complained 
that  his  sight  was  dim,  and  his  voice  feeble.     Increasing  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLKWIT.  385 

his  own  briskness  as  the  prospect  grew  more  and  more 
dismal,  Mark  brought  away  a  door  from  one  of  the  deserted 
houses,  and  fitted  it  to  their  own  habitation;  then  went 
back  again  for  a  rude  bench  he  had  observed,  with  which 
he  presently  returned  in  triumph;  and  having  put  this  piece 
of  furniture  outside  the  house  arranged  the  notable  tin-pot 
and  other  such  m.ovables  upon  it,  that  it  might  represent  a 
dresser  or  a  sideboard.  Greatly  satisfied  with  this  arrange- 
ment, he  next  rolled  their  cask  of  flour  into  the  house,  and 
set  it  up  on  end  in  one  corner,  where  it  served  for  a 
side  table.  No  better  dining  table  could  be  required  than 
the  chest,  which  he  solemnly  devoted  to  that  useful  service 
thenceforth.  Their  blankets,  clothes,  and  the  like,  he  hung 
on  pegs  and  nails.  And  lastly,  he  brought  forth  a  great 
placard  (which  Martin  in  the  exultation  of  his  heart  had 
prepared  vvith  his  own  hands  at  the  National  Hotel),  bear- 
ing the  inscription,  Chuzzlewit  &  Co.,  Architects  and 
Surveyors,  which  he  displayed  upon  the  most  conspicuous 
part  of  the  premises,  v/ith  as  much  gravity  as  if  the  thriving 
city  of  Eden  had  a  real  existence  and  they  expected  to  be 
overwhelmed  with  business. 

"  These  here  tools,"  said  Mark,  bringing  forward  Martin's 
case  of  instruments  and  sticking  the  compasses  upright  in  a 
stump  before  the  door,  "  shall  be  set  out  in  the  open  air  to 
show  that  we  come  provided.  And  now,  if  any  gentleman 
wants  a  house  built,  he'd  better  give  his  orders,  afore  we're 
other  ways  bespoke." 

Considering  the  intense  heat  of  the  weather,  this  was  not  a 
bad  morning's  work;  but  without  pausing  for  a  moment, 
though  he  was  streaming  at  every  pore,  Mark  vanished  into 
the  house  again,  and  presently  reappeared  with  a  hatchet, 
intent  on  performing  some  impossibilities  with  that  imple- 
ment. 

"  Here's  a  ugly  old  treei  in  the  way,  sir,"  he  observed, 
*'  which'U  be  all  the  better  down.  We  can  build  the  oven 
in  the  afternoon.  There  never  was  such  a  handy  spot  for 
clay  as  Eden  is.     That's  convenient,  any  how." 

But  Martin  gave  him  no  answer.  He  had  sat  the  whole 
time  with  his  head  upon  his  hands,  gazing  at  the  current  as 
it  rolled  swiftly  by;  thinking,  perhaps,  how  fast  it  moved 
toward  the  open  sea,  the  high  road  to  the  home  he  never 
would  behold  again. 

Not  even  the  vigorous  strokes  which  Mark  dealt  at  the 
tree,  awoke  him  from  his  mournful  meditation.     Finding  all 


386  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

his  endeavors  to  rouse  him  of  no  use,  Mark  stopped  in  his 
work  and  came  toward  him, 

"  Don't  give  in,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"Oh,  Mark,"  returned  his  friend.  "What  have  I  done 
in  all  my  life  that  has  deserved  this  heavy  fate?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  for  the  matter  of  that,  ev'ry- 
body  as  is  here  might  say  the  same  thing;  many  of 'em  with 
better  reason  p'raps  than  you  or  me.  Hold  up,  sir.  Do 
something.  Couldn't  you  ease  your  mind,  now,  don't  you 
think,  by  making  some  personal  obserwations  in  a  letter  to 
Scadder?  " 

"  No,"  said  Martin,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully,  "  I  am 
past  that." 

"But  if  you're  past  that  already,"  returned  Mark,  "you 
must  be  ill,  and  ought  to  be  attended  to." 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  said  Martin.  "  Do  the  best  you  can 
for  yourself.  You'll  soon  have  only  yourself  to  consider. 
And  then  God  speed  you  home,  and  forgive  me  for  bringing 
you  here!  I  am  destined  to  die  in  this  place.  1  felt  it  the 
instant  I  set  foot  upon  the  shore.  Sleeping  or  waking,  Mark, 
I  dreamed  it  all  last  night." 

"I  said  you  must  be  ill,"  returned  Mark,  tenderly,  "and 
now  I'm  sure  of  it.  A  touch  of  fever  and  ague  caught  on 
these  rivers,  I  dare  say;  but  bless  you,  t/iafs  nothing.  It's 
only  a  seasoning;  and  we  must  all  be  seasoned,  one  way  or 
another.     That's  religion,  that  is,  you  know,"  said  Mark. 

He  only  sighed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Wait  half  a  minute,"  said  Mark  cheerily,  "  till  I  run  up 
to  one  of  our  neighbors  and  ask  what's  best  to  be  took, 
and  borrow  a  little  of  it  to  give  you,  and  to-morrow  you'll 
find  yourself  as  strong  as  ever  again.  I  won't  be  gone  a 
minute.     Don't  give  in,  while  I'm  away,  whatever  you  do!" 

Throwing  down  his  hatchet,  he  sped  away  immediately, 
but  stopped  when  he  had  got  a  little  distance,  and  looked 
back  ;  then  hurried  on  again. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Tapley,"  said  Mark,  giving  himself  a  tremen- 
dous blow  in  the  chest  by  way  of  reviver,  "just  you  attend 
to  what  I've  got  to  say.  Things  is  looking  about  as  bad  as 
they  can  look,  young  man.  You'll  not  have  such  another 
opportunity  for  showing  your  jolly  disposition,  my  fine  fel- 
low, as  long  as  you  live.  And  therefore,  Tapley,  now's  your 
time  to  come  out  strong  ;  or  never  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT  387 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

REPORTS    PROGRESS    IN     CERTAIN     HOMELY    MATTERS   OF    LOVE, 
HATRED,  JEALOUSY  AND  REVENGE. 

*'  Hallo,  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  Mr.  Jonas  from  the  parlor. 
'*  Isn't  somebody  agoing  to  open  that  precious  old  door  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  Immediately,  Mr.  Jonas.     Immediately." 

''  Ecod,"  muttered  the  orphan,  "  not  before  it's  time 
neither.  Whoever  it  is,  has  knocked  three  times,  and  each 
one  loud  enough  to  wake  the — "  he  had  such  a  repugnance 
to  the  idea  of  waking  the  dead,  that  he  stopped  even  then 
with  the  words  upon  his  tongue,  and  said,  instead,  "  the 
Seven  Sleepers." 

"  Immediately,  Mr.  Jonas  ;  immediately,"  repeated  Peck- 
sniff. "  Thomas  Pinch  " — he  couldn't  makeup  his  mind, 
in  his  great  agitation,  whether  to  call  Tom  his  dear  friend  or 
a  villain,  so  he  shook  his  fist  at  him  pro  tern. — '*go  up  to  my 
daughters'  room,  and  tell  them  who  is  here.  Say,  silence. 
Silence  !     Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Directly,  sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  departing,  in  a  state  of  much 
amazement,  on  his  errand. 

"  You'll — ha  ha  ha  ! — you'll  excuse  me,  Mr.  Jonas,  if  I 
close  this  door  a  moment,  will  you?"  said  Pecksniff.  "This 
may  be  a  professional  call.  Indeed  I  am  pretty  sure  it  is. 
Thank  you."  Then  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gently  warbling  a  rustic 
stave,  put  on  his  garden  hat,  seized  a  spade,  and  opened  the 
street  door,  calmly  appearing  on  the  threshold,  as  if  he 
thought  he  had,  from  his  vineyard,  heard  a  modest  rap,  but 
was  not  quite  certain. 

Seeing  a  gentleman  and  lady  before  him,  he  started  back 
in  as  much  confusion  as  a  good  man  with  a  crystal  con- 
science might  betray  in  mere  surprise.  Recognition  came 
upon  him  the  next  moment,  and  he  cried  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  !  My  dear 
sir  ;  my  good  sir  !  A  joyful  hour,  a  happy  hour  indeed. 
Pray,  my  dear  sir,  walk  in.  You  find  me  in  my  garden-dress. 
You  will  excuse  it,  I  know.  It  is  an  ancient  pursuit,  garden- 
ing. Primitive,  my  dear  sir  ;  for,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
Adam  was  the  first  of  oiir  calling.  My  Eve,  I  grieve  to  say, 
is  no  more,  sir  ;  but  " — here  he  pointed  to  his  spade,  and 
shook  his  head,  as  if  he  were  not  cheerful  without  an  effort 
— "  but  I  do  a  little  bit  of  Adam  still." 


388  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

He  had  by  this  time  got  them  into  the  best  parlor,  where 
the  portrait  by  Spiller,  and  the  bust  by  Spoker  were. 

''  My  daughters,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  *'  will  be  overjoyed. 
If  I  could  feel  weary  upon  such  a  theme,  I  should  have  been 
worn  out  long  ago,  my  dear  sir,  by  their  constant  anticipa- 
tion of  this  happiness,  and  their  repeated  allusions  to  our 
meeting  at  Mrs.  Todgers's.  Their  fair  young  friend  too," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  '*  whom  they  so  desire  to  know  and  love 
— indeed  to  know  her,  is  to  love — I  hope  I  see  her  well.  I 
hope  in  saying,  '  Welcome  to  my  humble  roof  !  '  I  find 
some  echo  in  her  own  sentiments.  If  features  are  an  index 
to  the  heart,  I  have  no  fears  of  that.  An  extremely  engag- 
ing expression  of  countenance,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  dear  sir  ; 
very  much  so  !  " 

"  Mary,"  said  the  old  man,  "  Mr.  Pecksniff  flatters  you. 
But  flattery  from  him  is  worth  the  having.  He  is  not  a 
dealer  in  it,  and  it  comes  from  his  heart.  We  thought 
Mr. " 

"  Pinch,"  said  Mary. 

"  Mr.  Pinch  would  have  arrived  before  us,  Pecksniff." 

"  He  did  arrive  before  you,  my  dear  sir,"  retorted  Peck- 
sniff, raising  his  voice  for  the  edification  of  Tom  upon  the 
stairs,  "  and  was  about,  I  dare  say,  to  tell  me  of  your  coming, 
when  I  begged  him  first  to  knock  at  my  daughters'  chamber, 
and  inquire  after  Charity,  my  dear  child,  who  is  not  so  well 
as  I  could  wish.  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  answering  their 
looks.  "  I  am  sorry  to  say,  she  is  not.  It  is  merely  an  hyster- 
ical affection  ;  nothing  more.  I  am  not  uneasy.  Mr.  Pinch  ! 
Thomas!"  exclaimed  Pecksniff,  in  his  kindest  accents.  "Pray 
come  in.  I  shall  make  no  stranger  of  you.  Thomas  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  of  rather  long  standing,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  you 
must  know." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  You  introduce  me  very 
kindly,  and  speak  of  me  in  terms  of  which  I  am  very  proud." 

**  Old  Thomas  !  "  cried  his  master  pleasantly,  "  God 
bless  you  !  " 

Tom  reported  that  the  young  ladies  would  appear  directly, 
and  that  the  best  refreshments  which  the  house  afforded 
were  even  then  in  preparation,  under  their  joint  superintend- 
ence. While  he  was  speaking,  the  old  man  looked  at  him 
intently,  though  with  less  harshness  than  was  common  to 
him;  nor  did  the  mutual  embarrassment  of  Tom  and  the 
young  lady,  to  whatever  cause  he  attributed  it,  seem  to  escape 
his  observation. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  389 

"Pecksniff,"  he  said,  after  a  i>anse,  rising  and  taking  him 
aside  toward  the  window,  "  I  was  much  shocked  on  hearing 
of  my  brother's  death.  We  had  been  strangers  for  many- 
years.  My  only  comfort  is,  that  he  must  have  lived  the  hap- 
pier and  better  man  for  having  associated  no  hopes  or 
schemes  with  me.  Peace  to  his  memory!  We  were  play- 
fellows once;  and  it  would  have  been  better  for  us  both  if 
we  had  died  then," 

Finding  him  in  this  gentle  mood,  Mr.  Pecksniff  began  to 
see  another  way  out  of  his  difficulties,  besides  the  casting 
overboard  of  Jonas. 

*'  That  any  man,  my  dear  sir,  could  possibly  be  the  happier 
for  not  knowing  you,"  he  returned,  "  you  will  excuse  my 
doubting.  But  that  Mr.  Anthony,  in  the  evening  of  his  life, 
was  happier  in  the  affection  of  his  excellent  son — a  pattern, 
my  dear  sir,  a  pattern  to  all  sons — and  in  the  care  of  a  dis- 
tant relation,  who,  however  lowly  in  his  means  of  serving 
him,  had  no  bounds  to  his  inclination,  I  can  inform  you." 

"  How's  this  ?"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  are  not  a  lega- 
tee ? " 

"  You  don't,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  melancholy  pres- 
sure of  his  hand,  "  quite  understand  my  nature  yet,  I  find. 
No,  sir,  I  am.  not  a  legatee.  I  am  proud  to  say  I  am  not  a 
legatee.  I  am  proud  to  say  that  neither  of  my  children  is  a 
legatee.  And  yet,  sir,  I  was  with  him  at  his  own  request. 
He  understood  me  somewhat  better,  sir.  He  wrote  and 
said,  *I  am  sick.  I  am  sinking.  Come  to  me  !  '  I  went  to 
him.  I  sat  beside  his  bed,  sir,  and  I  stood  beside  his  grave. 
Yes,  at  the  risk  of  offending  evenj'^z^,  I  did  it,  sir.  Though 
the  avowal  should  lead  to  our  instant  separation,  and  to  the 
severing  of  those  tender  ties  between  us  which  have  recently 
been  form.ed,  I  make  it.  But  I  am  not  a  legatee,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  smiling  dispassionately;  ''and  I  never  expected  to 
be  a  legatee.     I  knew  better  !  " 

"  His  son  a  pattern  !  "  cried  old  Martin.  "How  can  you 
tell  me  that  ?  My  brother  had  in  his  wealth  the  usual  doom 
of  wealth,  and  root  of  misery.  He  carried  bis  corrupting 
influence  with  him,  go  where  he  would;  and  shed  it  round 
him,  even  on  his  hearth.  It  made  of  his  own  child  a  greedy 
expectant,  who  measured  every  day  and  hour  the  lessening 
distance  between  his  father  and  the  grave,  and  cursed  his 
tardy  progress  on  that  dismal  road." 

*'  No  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  boldly.     "  Not  at  all,  sir  !" 

"But  I  saw  that  shadow  in  his  house,"  said  Martin  Chuz- 


390  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

zlewit,  "the  last  time  we  met,  and  warned  him  of  its  pres- 
ence. I  know  it  when  I  see  it,  do  I  not  ?  I,  w^ho  have  lived 
within  it  all  these  years  !  " 

"  I  deny  it,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered,  warmly,  "  I  deny  it 
altogether.  That  bereaved  young  man  is  now  in  this  house, 
sir,  seeking  in  change  of  scene  the  peace  of  mind  he  has 
lost.  Shall  I  be  backward  in  doing  justice  to  that  young 
man,  when  even  undertakers  and  coffin-makers  have  been 
moved  by  the  conduct  he  has  exhibited;  when  even  mutes 
have  spoken  in  his  praise,  and  the  medical  man  hasn't  known 
what  to  do  with  himself  in  the  excitement  of  his  feelings  ? 
There  is  a  person  of  the  name  of  Gamp,  sir — Mrs.  Gamp — 
ask  her.  She  saw  Mr.  Jonas  in  a  trying  time.  Ask  her^  sir. 
She  is  respectable,  but  not  sentimental,  and  will  state  the 
fact.  A  line  addressed  to  Mrs.  Gamp,  at  the  Bird-shop, 
Kingsgate  Street,  High  Holborn,  London,  will  meet  with 
every  attention,  I  have  no  doubt.  Let  her  be  examined, 
my  good  sir.  Strike,  but  hear  !  Leap,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  but 
look  !  Forgive  me,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking 
both  his  hands,  **  if  I  am  warm;  but  I  am  honest,  and  must 
state  the  truth." 

In  proof  of  the  character  he  gave  himself,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
suffered  tears  of  honesty  to  ooze  out  of  his  eyes. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  look  of 
wonder,  repeating  to  himself,  *'  Here  now  !  In  this  house  !  " 
But  he  mastered  his  surprise,  and  said,  after  a  pause: 

"  Let  me  see  him." 

''  In  a  friendly  spirit,  I  hope  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Forgive  me,  sir,  but  he  is  in  the  receipt  of  my  humble  hos- 
pitality." 

"  I  said,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  let  me  see  him.  If  I 
were  disposed  to  regard  him  in  any  other  than  a  friendly 
spirit,  I  should  have  said,  keep  us  apart." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  So  you  would,  you  are  frank- 
ness itself,  1  know.  I  will  break  this  happiness  to  him,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  he  left  the  room,  "  if  you  will  excuse  me  for 
a  minute,  gently." 

He  paved  the  way  to  the  disclosure  so  very  gently,  that  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  before  he  returned  with  Mr.  Jonas. 
In  the  meantime  the  young  ladies  had  made  their  appear- 
ance, and  the  table  had  been  set  out  for  the  refreshment  of 
the  travelers. 

Now,  however  well  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  morality,  had 
taught  Jonas  the  lesson  of  dutiful  behavior  to  his  uncle,  and 


MARlIxN  CHUZZLEWrr.  391 

however  perfectly  Jonas,  in  the  cunning  of  nature,  had  learned 
it,  that  young  man's  bearing,  when  presented  to  his  father's 
brother,  was  any  thing  but  manly  or  engaging.  Perhaps, 
indeed,  so  singular  a  mixture  of  defiance  and  obsequiousness, 
of  fear  and  hardihood,  of  dogged  suUenness  and  an  attempt  at 
cringing  and  propitiation,  never  was  expressed  in  any  one 
human  figure  as  in  that  of  Jonas,  when,  having  raised  his 
downcast  eyes  to  Martin's  face,  he  let  them  fall  again,  and 
uneasily  closing  and  unclosing  his  hands  without  a  moment's 
intermission,  stood  swinging  himself  from  side  to  side,  wait- 
ing to  be  addressed. 

''  Nephew,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  have  been  a  dutiful 
son,  I  hear." 

"  As  dutiful  as  sons  in  general,  I  suppose,"  returned 
Jonas,  looking  up  and  down  once  more.  "  I  don't  brag  to 
have  been  any  better  than  other  sons;  but  I  haven't  been  any 
worse  I  dare  say." 

"A  pattern  to  all  sons,  I  am  told,"  said  the  old  man, 
glancing  toward  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Ecod  !  "  said  Jonas,  looking  up  again  for  a  moment,  and 
shaking  his  head,  "  I've  been  as  good  a  son  as  ever  you  were 
a  brother,     "  It's  the  pot  and  kettle,  if  you  come  to  that." 

"  You  speak  bitterly,  in  the  violence  of  your  regret,"  said 
Martin  after  a  pause.     "  Give  me  your  hand." 

Jonas  did  so,  and  was  almost  at  his  ease.  "  Pecksniff," 
he  whispered,  as  they  drew  their  chairs  about  the  table  :  "  I 
gave  him  as  good  as  he  brought,  eh  !  He  had  better  look  at 
home  before  he  looks  out  window,  I  think  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  only  answered  by  a  nudge  of  the  elbow, 
which  might  either  be  construed  into  an  indignant  remon- 
strance or  a  cordial  assent;  but  which,  in  any  case,  was  an 
emphatic  admonition  to  his  chosen  son-in-law  to  be  silent. 
He  then  proceeded  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house  with  his 
accustomed  ease  and  amiability. 

But  not  even  Mr.  Pecksniff's  guileless  merriment  could  set 
such  a  party  at  their  ease,  or  reconcile  materials  so  utterly 
discordant  and  conflicting  as  those  with  which  he  had  to  deal. 
The  unspeakable  jealousy  and  hatred  which  that  night's 
explanation  had  sown  in  Charity's  breast,  was  not  to  be  so 
easily  kept  down;  and  more  than  once  it  showed  itself  in 
such  intensity,  as  seemed  to  render  a  full  disclosure  of  all  the 
circumstances  then  and  there,  impossible  to  be  avoided.  The 
beauteous  Merry,  too,  with  all  the  glory  of  her  conquest  fresh 
upon  her,  so  probed  and  lanced  the  rankling  disappointment 


392  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

of  her  sister  by  her  capricious  airs,  and  thousand  little  trials 
of  Mr.  Jonas's  obedience,  that  she  almost  goaded  her  into 
a  fit  of  madness,  and  obliged  her  to  retire  from  the  table  in  a 
burst  of  passion,  hardly  less  vehement  than  that  to  which 
she  had  abandoned  herself  in  the  first  tumult  of  her 
wrath.  The  constraint  imposed  upon  the  family  by  the 
presence  among  them  for  the  first  time  of  Mary  Graham 
(for  by  that  name  old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  had  introduced 
her),  did  not  at  all  improve  this  state  of  things  ;  gentle 
and  quiet  though  her  manner  was.  Mr.  Pecksniff's  situa- 
tion was  peculiarly  trying  ;  for,  what  with  having  con- 
stantly to  keep  peace  between  his  daughters;  to  maintain 
a  reasonable  show  of  affection  and  unity  in  his  house- 
hold; to  curb  the  growing  ease  and  gayety  of  Jonas, 
which  vented  itself  in  sundry  insolences  toward  Mr,  Pinch, 
and  an  indefinable  coarseness  of  manner  in  reference  to  Mary 
(they  being  the  two  dependents);  to  make  no  mention  at  all 
of  his  having  perpetually  to  conciliate  his  rich  old  relative, 
and  to  smooth  down,  or  explain  away,  some  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand bad  appearances  and  combinations  of  bad  appearances, 
by  which  they  were  surrounded  on  that  unlucky  evening — 
what  with  having  to  do  this,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  sum 
up  how  much  more,  without  the  least  relief  or  assistance  from 
anybody,  it  may  be  easily  imagined  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  in 
his  enjoyment  something  more  than  that  usual  portion  of  alloy 
which  is  mixed  up  with  the  best  of  men's  delights.  Perhaps 
he  had  never  in  his  life  felt  such  relief  as  when  old  Mar- 
tin, looking  at  his  watch,  announced  that  it  was  time  to  go. 

"We  have  rooms,"  he  said,  "at  the  Dragon,  for  the  pres- 
ent. I  have  a  fancy  for  the  evening  walk.  The  nights  are 
dark  just  now;  perhaps  Mr.  Pinch  would  not  object  to  light 
us  home  ?  " 

"  My  dear  sir  !  "  cried  Pecksniff,  "  1  shall  be  delighted. 
Merry,  my  child,  the  lantern." 

"  The  lantern,  if  you  please,  my  dear,"  said  Martin  ;  "  but 
I  couldn't  think  of  taking  your  father  out  of  doors  to-night  ; 
and,  to  be  brief,  I  won't." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  already  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  but  it  was 
so  emphatically  said  that  he  paused. 

"  I  take  Mr.  Pinch,  or  go  alone,"  said  Martin.  "  Which 
shall  it  be  ?' 

"  It  sliall  be  Thomas,  sir,"  cried  Pecksniff.  "  Since  you 
are  so  resolute  upon  it.  'J'homas,  my,  friend,  be  very  (-are- 
ful,  if  you  please." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  393 

Tom  was  in  some  need  of  this  injunction,  for  he  felt  so 
nervous,  and  trembled  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  found  it 
difficult  to  hold  the  lantern.  How  much  more  difficult 
when,  at  the  old  man's  bidding,  she  drew  her  hand  through 
his,  Tom  Pinch's,  arm  ! 

'*  And  so,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  on  the  way,  **  you  are 
very  comfortably  situated  here;  are  you  ?" 

Tom  answered,  with  even  more  than  his  usual  enthusiasm, 
that  he  was  under  obligations  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  which  the 
devotion  of  a  lifetime  would  but  imperfectly  repay. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  my  nephew  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Your  nephew,  sir  !  "  faltered  Tom. 

"  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,"  cried  Tom,  greatly  relieved,  for  his  mind 
was  running  upon  Martin.  "  Certainly.  I  never  spoke  to 
him  before  to-night,  sir  !  " 

"  Perhaps  half  a  lifetime  will  suffice  for  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  kindness,"  observed  the  old  man. 

Tom  felt  that  this  was  a  rebuff  for  him,  and  could  not  but 
understand  it  as  a  left-handed  hit  at  his  employer.  So  he 
was  silent.  Mary  felt  that  Mr.  Pinch  was  not  remarkable 
for  presence  of  mind,  and  that  he  could  not  say  too  little 
under  existing  circumstances,  ^o  she  was  silent.  The  old 
man,  disgusted  by  what  in  his  suspicious  nature  he  consid- 
ered a  shameless  and  fulsome  puff  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which 
was  a  part  of  Tom's  hired  service  and  in  which  he  was  deter- 
mined to  persevere,  set  him  down  at  once  for  a  deceitful, 
servile,  miserable  fawner.  So  he  was  silent.  And  though 
they  were  all  sufficiently  uncomfortable,  it  is  fair  to  say  that 
Martin  was  perhaps  the  most  so  ;  for  he  had  felt  kindly 
toward  Tom  at  first,  and  had  been  interested  by  his 
seeming  simplicity. 

"  You're  like  the  rest,"  he  thought,  glancing  at  the  face  of 
the  unconscious  Tom.  '*  You  had  nearly  imposed  upon  me, 
but  you  have  lost  your  labor.  You  are  too  zealous  a  toad- 
eater,  and  betray  yourself,  Mr.  Pinch." 

During  the  whole  remainder  of  the  walk,  not  another  word 
was  spoken.  First  among  the  meetings  to  which  Tom  had 
long  looked  forward  with  a  beating  heart,  it  was  memorable 
for  nothing  but  embarrassment  and  confusion.  They  parted 
at  the  Dragon  door;  and  sighing  as  he  extinguished  the 
candle  in  the  lantern,  Tom  turned  back  again  over  the 
gloomy  fields. 

As  he  approached  the  first   stile,   which    was  in  a  lone)y 


394  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

part,  made  very  dark  by  a  plantation  of  young  firs,  a  man 
slipped  past  him  and  went  on  before.  Coming  to  the  stile 
he  stopped,  and  took  his  seat  upon  it,  Tom  was  rather 
startled,  and  for  a  moment  stood  still  ;  but  he  stepped  for- 
ward again  immediately,  and  went  close  to  him. 

It  was  Jonas;  swinging  his  legs  to  and  fro,  sucking  the 
head  of  a  stick,  and  looking  with  a  sneer  at  Tom. 

''  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom,  "  who  would  have 
thought  of  its  being  you  !     You  followed  us,  then  ?  " 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?  "  said  Jonas.     "  Go  to  the   devil  !  " 

"  You  are  not  very  civil,  I  think,"  remarked  Tom. 

"  Civil  enough  iov  yo7i"  retorted  Jonas.     *'  Who  are  you  ?  " 

**  One  who  has  as  good  a  right  to  common  consideration 
as  another,"  said  Tom,  mildly. 

*'  You're  a  liar,"  said  Jonas.  *'  You  haven't  a  right  to  any 
consideration.  You  haven't  a  right  to  any  thing.  You're  a 
pretty  sort  of  fellow  to  talk  about  your  rights,  upon  my  soul! 
Ha!  ha  !     Rights,  too  !  " 

"  If  you  proceed  in  this  way,"  returned  Tom,  reddening, 
"  you  will  oblige  me  to  talk  about  my  wrongs.  But  I  hope 
your  joke  is  over." 

"  It's  the  way  with  you  curs,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  that  when 
you  know  a  man's  in  real  earnest,  you  pretend  to  think  he's 
joking,  so  that  you  may  turn  it  off.  But  that  won't  do  with 
me.  It's  too  stale.  Now  just  attend  to  me  for  a  bit,  Mr. 
Pitch,  or  Witch,   or  Stitch,  or  whatever  your  name  is." 

"  My  name  is  Pinch,"  observed  Tom.  "  Have  the  good- 
ness to  call  me  by  it." 

"  What!  You  mustn't  even  be  called  out  of  your  name, 
mustn't  you!  "  cried  Jonas.  *' Pauper  'prentices  are  looking 
up,  I  think.  Ecod,  we  manage  'em  a  little  better  in  th^ 
city!" 

"  Never  mind  what  you  do  in  the  city,"  said  Tom.  *'  WhaV 
have  you  got  to  say  to  me  ? " 

"  Just  this.  Mister  Pinch,"  retorted  Jonas,  thrusting  his 
face  so  close  to  Tom's  that  Tom  was  obliged  to  retreat  a 
step,  "  I  advise  you  to  keep  your  own  counsel,  and  to  avoid 
tittle-tattle,  and  not  to  cut  in  where  you're  not  wanted.  I've 
heard  something  of  you,  my  friend,  and  your  meek  ways; 
and  I  recommend  you  to  forget  'em  till  I  am  married  to  one 
of  Pecksniff's  gals,  and  not  to  curry  favor  among  my  rela- 
tions, but  to  leave  the  coast  clear.  You  know,  when  curs 
won't  leave  the  course  clear  they're  whipped  off;  so  this  is 
kind  advice.     Do  you  understand  ?     Eh  ?     Damme,  who  are 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  395 

you,"  cried  Jonas,  with  increased  contempt,  "that  you  should 
walk  home  with  them,  unless  it  was  behind  'em,  like  any  other 
servant  out  of  livery  ?  " 

"  Come!  "  cried  Tom,  "  I  see  that  you  had  better  get  off 
the  stile,  and  let  me  pursue  my  way  home.  Make  room  for 
me,  if  you  please." 

"  Don't  think  it  !  "  said  Jonas,  spreading  out  his  legs. 
*' Not  till  I  choose.  And  I  don't  choose  now.  What! 
You're  afraid  of  my  making  you  split  upon  some  of  your 
babbling  just  now,  are  you,  sneak?" 

''  I  am  not  afraid  of  many  things,  I  hope,"  said  Tom; 
"  and  certainly  not  of  any  thing  that  you  will  do.  I  am  not 
a  tale-bearer,  and  I  despise  all  meanness.  You  quite  mis- 
take me.  Ah!"  cried  Tom,  indignantly.  ''Is  this  manly 
from  one  in  your  position  to  one  in  mine  ?  Please  to  make 
room  for  me  to  pass.     The  less  I  say,  the  better." 

*'  The  less  you  say!  "  retorted  Jonas,  dangling  his  legs  the 
more,  and  taking  no  heed  of  this  request.  "  You  say  very 
little,  don't  you?  Ecod,  I  should  like  to  know  what  goes 
on  between  you  and  a  vagabond  member  of  my  family. 
There's  very  little  in  that,  too,  I  dare  say!  " 

"  I  know  no  vagabond  member  of  your  family,"  cried 
Tom,  stoutly. 

"  You  do!  "  said  Jonas. 

*' I  don't,"  said  Tom.  "Your  uncle's  namesake,  if  you 
mean  him,  is  no  vagabond.  Any  comparison  between  you 
and  him  " — Tom  snapped  his  fingers  at  him,  for  he  was  ris- 
ing fast  in  wrath — "  is  immeasurably  to  your  disadvantage." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  sneered  Jonas,  "And  what  do  you  think 
of  his  deary,  his  beggarly  leavings,  eh,  Mister  Pinch  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say  another  word,  or  stay  here  another 
instant,"  replied  Tom, 

"As  I  told  you  before,  you're  a  liar,"  said  Jonas,  coolly, 
"  You'll  stay  here  till  I  give  you  leave  to  go.  Now,  keep 
where  you  are,  will  you  ?  " 

He  flourished  his  stick  over  Tom's  head;  but  in  a  moment 
it  was  spinning  harmlessly  in  the  air,  and  Jonas  himself  lay 
sprawling  in  the  ditch.  In  the  momentary  struggle  for  the 
stick,  Tom  had  brought  it  into  violent  contact  with  his  oppo- 
nent's forehead,  and  the  blood  welled  out  profusely  from  a 
deep  cut  on  the  temple.  Tom  was  first  apprised  of  this  by 
seeing  that  he  pressed  his  handkerchief  to  the  wounded  part 
and  staggered  as  he  rose,  being  stunned, 

"Are  you  hurt  ?  "  said  Tom.     "  I   am  very   sorry.     Lean 


390  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

on  me  for  a  moment.  You  can  do  that  without  forgiving 
me,  if  you  still  bear  me  malice.  But  I  don't  know  why;  for 
I  never  offended  you  before  we  met  on  this  spot." 

He  made  him  no  answer,  not  appearing  at  first  to  under- 
stand him,  or  even  to  know  that  he  was  hurt,  though  he 
several  times  took  his  handkerchief  from  the  cut  to  look 
vacantly  at  the  blood  upon  it.  After  one  of  these  examina- 
tions he  looked  at  Tom,  and  then  there  was  an  expression  in 
his  features  which  showed  that  he  understood  what  had 
taken  place,  and  would  remember  it. 

Nothing  more  passed  between  them  as  they  went  home. 
Jonas  kept  a  little  in  advance,  and  Tom  Pinch  sadly  fol- 
lowed, thinking  of  the  grief  which  the  knowledge  of  this 
quarrel  must  occasion  his  excellent  benefactor.  When  Jonas 
knocked  at  the  door  Tom's  heart  beat  high;  higher  when 
Miss  Merry  answered  it;  and,  seeing  her  wounded  lover, 
shrieked  aloud;  higher,  when  he  followed  them  into  the 
family  parlor;  higher  than  at  any  other  time  when  Jonas 
spoke. 

*'  Don't  make  a  noise  about  it,"  he  said.  "  It's  nothing 
worth  mentioning.  I  didn't  know  the  road;  the  night's 
very  dark;  and  just  as  I  came  up  with  Mr.  Pinch" — he 
turned  his  face  toward  Tom,  but  not  his  eyes — "  I  ran 
against  a  tree.     It's  only  skin  deep." 

"Cold  water.  Merry,  my  child!"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Brown  paper  !  Scissors  !  A  piece  of  old  linen  !  Charity, 
my  dear,  make  a  bandage.     Bless  me,  Mr.  Jonas  !  " 

"  Oh,  bother  jw^rnonsense,"  returned  the  gracious  son- 
in-law  elect.  **Be  of  some  use  if  you  can.  If  you  can't, 
get  out !  " 

Miss  Charity,  though  called  upon  to  lend  her  aid,  sat 
upright  in  one  corner,  with  a  smile  upon  her  face,  and  didn't 
move  a  finger.  Though  Mercy  laved  the  wound  herself  ; 
and  Mr.  Pecksniff  held  the  patient's  head  between  his  two 
hands,  as  if  without  that  assistance  it  must  inevitably  come 
in  half,  and  Tom  Pinch,  in  his  guilty  agitation,  shook  a  bottle 
of  Dutch  drops  until  they  were  nothing  but  English  froth, 
and  in  his  other  hand  sustained  a  formidable  carving-knife, 
really  intended  to  reduce  the  swelling,  but  apparently 
designed  for  the  ruthless  infliction  of  another  wound  as  soon 
as  that  was  dressed  ;  Charity  rendered  not  the  least  assistance, 
nor  uttered  a  word.  But  when  Mr.  Jonas's  head  was  bound 
up,  and  he  had  gone  to  bed,  and  every  body  else  had  retired, 
and  the  house  was  quiet,  Mr.  Pinch,  as  he  sat  mournfully  on 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  397 

his  bedstead  ruminating,  heard  a  gentle  tap  at  his  door  ;  and 
opening  it,  saw  her,  to  his  great  astonishment,  standii^.g 
before  him  with  her  finger  on  her  lip. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  she  whispered.  "  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  I  Tell 
me  the  truth  !  Vou  did  that  ?  There  was  some  quarrel 
between  you,  and  you  struck  him  ?     I  am  sure  of  that  !  " 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  spoken  kindly  to  Tom, 
in  all  the  many  years  they  had  passed  together.  He  was 
stupefied  with  amazement. 

*'  Was  it  so,  or  not  ?"  she  eagerly  demanded. 

"  I  was  very  much  provoked,"  said  Tom. 

"  Then  it  was  ?  "  cried  Charity,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"Ye-yes.  We  had  a  struggle  for  the  path,"  said  Tom. 
"  But  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  him  so  much." 

"  Not  so  much  !  "  she  repeated,  clenching  her  hand  and 
stamping  her  foot,  to  Tom's  great  wonder.  '  Don't  say  that. 
It  was  brave  of  you.  I  honor  you  for  it.  If  you  should  ever 
quarrel  again,  don't  spare  him  for  the  world,  but  beat  him 
down  and  set  your  shoe  upon  him.  Not  a  word  of  this  to 
any  body.  Dear  Mr.  Pinch,  I  am  your  friend  from  to-night. 
I  am  always  your  friend  from  this  time." 

She  turned  her  flushed  face  upon  Tom  to  confirm  her 
words  by  its  kindling  expression  ;  and  seizing  his  right 
hand,  pressed  it  to  her  breast,  and  kissed  it.  And  there  was 
nothing  personal  in  this  to  render  it  at  all  embarrassing,  for 
even  Tom,  whose  power  of  observation  was  by  no  means 
remarkable,  knew  from  the  energy  with  which  she  did  it  that 
she  would  have  fondled  any  hand,  no  matter  how  bedaubed 
or  dyed,  that  had  broken  the  head  of  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

Tom  went  into  his  room,  and  went  to  bed,  full  of  uncom- 
fortable thoughts.  That  there  should  be  any  such  tremen- 
dous division  in  the  family  as  he  knew  must  have  taken  place 
to  convert  Charity  Pecksniff  into  his  friend,  for  any  reason, 
but,  above  all,  for  that  which  was  clearly  the  real  one  ;  that 
Jonas,  who  had  assailed  him  with  such  exceeding  coarseness, 
should  have  been  sufficiently  magnanimous  to  keep  the 
secret  of  their  quarrel  ;  and  that  any  train  of  circumstances 
should  have  led  to  the  commission  of  an  assault  and  battery 
by  Thomas  Pinch  upon  any  man  calling  himself  the  friend 
of  Seth  Pecksniff  ;  were  matters  of  such  deep  and  painful 
cogitation,  that  he  could  not  close  his  eyes.  His  own  vio- 
lence, in  particular,  so  preyed  upon  the  generous  mind  of 
Tom,  that  coupling  it  with  the  many  former  occasions  on 
which  he  had  given  Mr  Pecksniff  pain  and  anxiety  (ccca- 


395  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sions  of  which  that  gentleman  often  reminded  him),  he 
really  began  to  regard  himself  as  destined  by  a  mysterious 
fate  to  be  the  evil  genius  and  bad  angel  of  his  patron.  But 
he  fell  asleep  at  last,  and  dreamed — new  source  of  waking 
uneasiness — that  he  had  betrayed  his  trust,  and  run  away 
with  Mary  Graham. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that,  asleep  or  awake,  Tom's 
position  in  reference  to  this  young  lady  was  full  of  uneasi- 
ness. The  more  he  saw  of  her,  the  more  he  admired  her 
beauty,  her  intelligence,  the  amiable  qualities  that  even  won 
on  the  divided  house  of  Pecksniff,  and  in  a  few  days  restored 
at  all  events  the  semblance  of  harmony  and  kindness  between 
the  angry  sisters.  When  she  spoke,  Tom  held  his  breath,  so 
eagerly  he  listened  ;  when  she  sang,  he  sat  like  one  entranced. 
She  touched  his  organ,  and  from  that  bright  epoch,  even  it, 
the  old  companion  of  his  happiest  hours,  incapable  as  he  had 
thought  of  elevation,  began  a  new  and  deified  existence. 

God's  love  upon  thy  patience,  Tom  !  Who,  that  had 
beheld  thee,  for  three  summer  weeks,  poring  through  half 
the  deadlong  night  over  the  jingling  anatomy  of  that  inscru- 
table old  harpsichord  in  the  back  parlor,  could  have  missed 
the  entrance  to  thy  secret  heart,  albeit  it  was  dimly  known  to 
thee?  Who  that  had  seen  the  glow  upon  thy  cheek  when  leaning 
down  to  listen,  after  hours  of  labor,  for  the  sound  of  one  in- 
corrigible note,  thou  foundest  that  it  had  a  voice  at  last,  and 
wheezed  out  a  flat  something,  distantly  akin  to  what  it  ought 
to  be,  would  not  have  known  that  it  was  destined  for  no 
common  touch,  but  one  that  smote,  though  gently  as  an 
angel's  hand,  upon  the  deepest  chord  within  thee  !  And  if  a 
friendly  glance — ay,  even  though  it  were  as  guileless  as  thine 
own,  dear  Tom — could  but  have  pierced  the  twilight  of  that 
evening,  when,  in  a  voice  well  tempered  to  the  time,  sad, 
sweet,  and  low,  yet  hopeful,  she  first  sang  to  the  altered 
instrument,  and  wondered  at  the  change;  and  thou,  sitting 
apart  at  the  open  window,  kept  a  glad  silence  and  a  swelling 
heart  ;  must  not  that  glance  have  read  perforce  the  dawn- 
ing of  a  story,  'I'om,  that  it  were  well  for  thee  had  never 
been  begun  ! 

Tom  Pinch's  situation  was  not  made  the  less  dangerous  or 
difficult  by  the  fact  of  no  one  word  passing  between  them  in 
reference  to  Martin.  Honorably  mindful  of  his  promise, 
Tom  gave  her  opportunities  of  all  kinds.  Early  and  late  he 
was  in  the  church,  in  her  favorite  walks,  in  the  \  illage,  in  the 
garden,  in  the  meadows  ;  and  in  any  or  all  of  these  places 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  399 

he  might  have  spoken  freely.  But  no  ;  at  all  such  times  she 
carefully  avoided  him,  or  never  came  in  his  way  unaccom- 
panied. It  could  not  be  that  she  disliked  or  distrusted  him, 
lor  by  a  thousand  little  delicate  means,  too  slight  for  any 
notice  but  his  own,  she  singled  him  out  when  others  were 
present,  and  showed  herself  the  very  soul  of  kindness.  Could 
it  be  that  she  had  broken  with  Martin,  or  had  never  returned 
his  affection,  save  in  his  own  bold  and  heightened  fancy  ? 
Tom's  cheek  grew  red  with  self-reproach,  as  he  dismissed 
the  thought. 

All  this  time  old  Martin  came  and  went  in  his  own  strange 
manner,  or  sat  among  the  rest  absorbed  within  himself,  and 
holding  little  intercourse  with  any  one.  Although  he  was 
unsocial,  he  was  not  willful  in  other  things,  or  troublesome, 
or  morose,  being  never  better  pleased  than  when  they  left 
him  quite  unnoticed  at  his  book,  and  pursued  their  own 
amusements  in  his  presence,  unreserved.  It  was  impossible 
to  discern  in  whom  he  took  an  interest,  or  whether  he  had 
an  interest  in  any  of  them.  Unless  they  spoke  to  him 
directly,  he  never  showed  that  he  had  ears  or  eyes  for  any 
thing  that  passed. 

One  day  the  lively  Merry,  sitting  with  downcast  eyes 
under  a  shady  tree  in  the  churchyard,  whither  she  retired 
after  fatiguing  herself  by  the  imposition  of  sundry  trials  on 
the  temper  of  Mr.  Jonas,  felt  that  a  new  shadow  came 
between  her  and  the  sun.  Raising  her  eyes  in  the  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  her  betrothed,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
see  old  Martin  instead.  Her  surprise  was  not  diminished 
when  he  took  his  seat  upon  the  turf  beside  her,  and  opened 
a  conversation  thus  : 

"When  are  you  to  be  married ?  " 

"  Oh  !  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  goodness  me  !  I'm  sure 
I  don't  know.     Not  yet  awhile,  I  hope." 

'*  You  hope  ?  "  said  the  old  man. 

It  was  very  gravely  said,  but  she  took  it  for  banter,  and 
giggled  excessively. 

''  Come  !  "  said  the  old  man,  with  unusual  kindness,  "  you 
are  young,  good-looking,  and  I  think  good-natured  !  Frivo- 
lous you  are,  and  love  to  be,  undoubtedly  ;  but  you  must 
have  some  heart." 

"  I  have  not  given  it  all  away,  I  can  tell  you,"  said 
Merry,  nodding  her  head  shrewdly,  and  plucking  up  the 
grass. 

'  'Have  you  parted  with  any  of  it  ? " 


400  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

She  threw  the  grass  about,  and  looked  another  way,  but 
said  nothing. 

Martin  repeated  his  question. 

"Lor,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  really  you  must  excuse 
me  !     How  very  odd  you  are.'* 

'*  If  it  be  odd  in  me  to  desire  to  know  whether  you  love 
the  young  man  whom  I  understand  you  are  to  marry,  I  am 
very  odd,"  said  Martin.    *'  For  that  is  certainly  my  wish." 

*'  He's  such  a  monster,  you  know,"  said  Merry,  pouting. 

"  Then  you  don't  love  him  ?  "  returned  the  old  man.  ^'  Is 
that  your  meaning  ?  " 

**  Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I'm  sure  I  tell  him  a 
hundred  times  a  day  that  I  hate  him.  You  must  have  heard 
me  tell  him  that." 

**  Often,"  said  Martin. 

*'  And  so  I  do,"  cried  Merry.     "  I  do  positively." 

**  Being  at  the  same  time  engaged  to  marry  him,"  observed 
the  old  man. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Merry.  *'  But  I  told  the  wretch — my  dear 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  told  him  when  he  asked  me — that  if  I 
ever  did  marry  him,  it  should  only  be  that  I  might  hate  and 
tease  him  all  my  life." 

She  had  a  suspicion  that  the  old  man  regarded  Jonas  with 
any  thing  but  favor,  and  intended  these  remarks  to  be  ex- 
tremely captivating.  He  did  not  appear,  however,  to  regard 
them  in  that  light  by  any  means;  for  when  he  spoke  again, 
it  was  in  a  tone  of  severity. 

"  Look  about  you,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  graves;  "  and 
remember  that  from  your  bridal  hour  to  the  day  which  sees 
you  brought  as  low  as  these,  and  laid  in  such  a  bed,  there 
will  be  no  appeal  against  him.  Think,  and  speak,  and  act, 
for  once,  like  an  accountable  creature.  Is  any  control  put 
upon  your  inclinations  ?  Are  you  forced  into  this  match  ? 
Are  you  insidiously  advised  or  tempted  to  contract  it  by 
any  one  ?     I  will  not  ask  by  whom.     By  any  one  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Merry,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "  I  don't 
know  that  I  am." 

"  Don't  know  that  you  are  !     Are  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Merry.  "  Nobody  ever  said  any  thing  to 
me  about  it.  If  any  one  had  tried  to  make  me  have  him,  1 
wouldn't  have  had  him  at  all." 

"  I  am  told  that  he  was  at  first  supposed  to  be  your  sis- 
ter's admirer,"  said   Martin. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  !     My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit^  it  woul^ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  401 

be  very  hard  to  make  him,  though  he  is  a  monster^  account- 
able for  other  people's  vanity,"  said  Merry.  "  And  poor, 
dear  Cherry  is  the  vainest  darling  !  " 

"  It  was  her  mistake,  then  ?  " 

"  I  hope  it  was,"  cried  Merry;  "but,  all  along,  the  dear 
child  had  been  so  dreadfully  jealous,  and  so  cross,  that,  upon 
my  word  and  honor,  it's  impossible  to  please  her,  and  it's  of 
no  use  trying." 

''Not  forced,  persuaded,  or  controlled,"  said  Martin, 
thoughtfully.  *'  And  that's  true,  I  see.  There  is  one  chance 
yet.  You  may  have  lapsed  into  this  engagement  in  very 
giddiness.  It  may  have  been  the  wanton  act  of  a  light 
head.     Is  that  so  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  simpered  Merry,  "  as  to 
light-headedness,  there  never  was  such  a  feather  of  a  head 
as  mine.  It's  a  perfect  balloon,  I  declare  !  You  never  did, 
you  know  !  " 

He  waited  quietly  till  she  had  finished,  and  then  said, 
steadily  and  slowly,  and  in  a  softened  voice,  as  if  he  would 
still  invite  her  confidence: 

"  Have  you  any  wish — or  is  there  any  thing  within  your 
breast  that  whispers  you  may  form  the  Avish,  if  you  have 
time  to  think — to  be  released  from  this  engagement  ?  " 

Again  Miss  Merry  pouted,  and  looked  dov.-'n,  and  plucked 
the  grass,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  No.  She  didn't 
know  that  she  had.  She  was  pretty  sure  she  hadn't.  Quite 
sure,  she  might  say.     She  "  didn't  mind  it." 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,"  said  Martin,  "  that  your 
married  life  may  perhaps  be  miserable,  full  of  bitterness,  and 
most  unhappy  ?" 

Merry  looked  down  again;  and  now  she  tore  the  grass  up 
by  the  roots. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  what  shocking  words  !  Of 
course  I  shall  quarrel  with  him.  1  should  quarrel  with  any 
husband.  Married  people  always  quarrel,  I  believe.  But 
as  to  being  miserable,  and  bitter,  and  all  those  dreadful 
things,  you  know,  why  I  couldn't  be  absolutely  that,  unless 
he  always  had  the  best  of  it;  and  I  mean  to  have  the  best 
of  it  myself.  I  always  do  now,"  cried  Merry,  nodding  her 
head  and  giggling  very  much;  "for  I  make  a  perfect  slave 
of  the  creature." 

"  Let  it  go  on,"  said  Martin,  rising.  "  Let  it  go  on  !  I 
sought  to  know  your  mind,  my  dear,  and  you  have  shown  it 
me.     I  wish  you  joy.     Joy  !"  he  repeated,  looking  full  upon 


402  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

her,  and  pointing  to  the  wicket-gate  where  Jonas  entered  at 
the  moment.  And  then,  without  waiting  for  his  nephew,  he 
passed  out  at  another  gate,  and  went  away. 

"  Oh,  you  terrible  old  man  !  "  cried  the  facetious  Merry  to 
herself.  **  What  a  perfectly  hideous  monster  to  be  wander- 
ing about  churchyards  in  the  broad  daylight,  frightening 
people  out  of  their  wits  !  Don't  come  here,  griffin,  or  I'll 
go  away  directly." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  the  griffin.  He  sat  down  upon  the  grass 
at  her  side,  in  spite  of  this  warning,  and  sulkily  inquired: 

"  What's  my  uncle  been  a-talking  about  ?  " 

"  About  you,"  rejoined  Merry.  *'  He  says  you're  not 
half  good  enough  for  me." 

'*  Oh  yes,  I  dare  say  !  We  all  know  that.  He  means  to 
give  you  some  present  worth  having,  I  hope.  Did  he  say 
any  thing  that  looked  like  it  ?  " 

"  That  he  didn't  ?  "  cried  Merry,  most  decisively. 

"  A  stingy  old  dog  he  is,"  said  Jonas.     ''  Well  ?  " 

"  Griffin  !  "  cried  Miss  Mercy,  in  counterfeit  amazement ; 
"  what  are  you  doing,  griffin  ?  " 

''  Only  giving  you  a  squeeze,"  said  the  discomfited  Jonas. 
"  There's  no  harm  in  that,  I  suppose  ? " 

*'  But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  harm  in  it,  if  I  don't  consider 
it  agreeable,"  returned  his  cousin.  ''  Do  go  along,  will  you  ? 
You  make  me  so  hot  !  " 

Mr.  Jonas  withdrew  his  arm  ;  and  for  a  moment  looked 
at  her  more  like  a  murderer  than  a  lover.  But  he  cleared 
his  brow  by  degrees,  and  broke  silence  with  : 

''  I  say,  Mel  !  " 

"  What  do  you  say,  you  vulgar  thing,  you  low  savage  ? " 
cried  his  fair  betrothed. 

"  When  is  it  to  be  ?  I  can't  afford  to  go  on  dawdling 
about  here  half  my  life,  I  needn't  tell  you,  and  Pecksniff 
says  that  father's  being  so  lately  dead  makes  very  little  odds  ; 
for  we  can  be  married  as  quiet  as  we  please  down  here,  and 
my  being  lonely  is  a  good  reason  to  the  neighbors  for  taking 
a  wife  home  so  soon,  especially  one  that  he  knew.  As  to 
cross-bones  (my  uncle,  1  mean),  he's  sure  not  to  put  a  spoke 
in  the  wheel,  whatever  we  settle  on,  for  he  told  Pecksniff 
only  this  morning,  that  \i you  like  it,  he'd  nothing  at  all  to 
say.  So,  Mel,"  said  Jonas,  venturing  on  another  squeeze  ; 
"  when  shall  it  be  ?  " 

*'  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Merry. 

*'  Upon  my  soul,  if  you  like,"  said  Jonas.  *'  What  do  you 
say  to  next  v.cck,  now  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  403 

"  To  next  week  !  If  you  had  said  next  quarter,  1  should 
have  wondered  at  your  impudence." 

''  But  I  didn't  say  next  quarter,"  retorted  Jonas.  "  I  said 
next  week." 

"  Then,  griffin,"  cried  Miss  Merry,  pushing  him  off,  and 
rising.  **  I  say  no  !  not  next  week.  It  shan't  be  till  I 
choose,  and  I  may  not  choose  it  to  be  for  months.     There  !  " 

He  glanced  up  at  her  from  the  ground,  almost  as  darkly 
as  he  had  looked  at  Tom  Pinch  ;  but  held  his  peace. 

"  No  fright  of  a  griffin  with  a  patch  over  his  eye,  shall 
dictate  to  me,  or  have  a  voice  in  the  matter,"  said  Merry. 
"  There  !  " 

Still  Mr.  Jonas  held  his  peace, 

"  If  it's  next  month,  that  shall  be  the  very  earliest ;  but  I 
won't  say  when  it  shall  be  till  to-morrow  ;  and  if  you  don't 
like  that,  it  shall  never  be  at  all,"  said  Merry  ;  ''  and  if  you 
follow  me  about  and  won't  leave  me  alone,  it  shall  never  be 
at  all.  There  !  And  if  you  don't  do  any  thing  I  order  you 
to  do,  it  shall  never  be  at  all.  So  don't  follow  me.  There, 
griffin  !  " 

And  with  that,  she  skipped  away  among  the  trees. 

"  Ecod,  my  lady  !  "  said  Jonas,  looking  after  her,  and 
biting  a  piece  of  straw,  almost  to  powder  ;  ''  you'll  catch  it 
for  this,  when  you  are  married  I  It's  all  very  well  now — it 
keeps  one  on,  somehow,  and  you  know  it — but  I'll  pay  you 
off  scot  and  lot  by  and  by.  This  is  a  plaguy  dull  sort  of  a 
place  for  a  man  to  be  sitting  by  himself  in.  I  never  could 
abide  a  moldy  old  churchyard." 

As  he  turned  into  the  avenue  himself,  Miss  Merry,  who 
was  far  ahead,  happened  to  look  back. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Jonas,  with  a  sullen  smile,  and  a  nod  that 
was  not  addressed  to  her.  ''  Make  the  most  of  it  while  it 
lasts.  Get  in  your  hay  w^hile  the  sun  shines.  Take  your 
own  way  as  long  as  it's  in  your  power,  my  lady  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IS  IN  PART  PROFESSIONAL  ;  AND  FURNISHES  THE  READER 
WITH  SOME  VALUABLE  HINTS  IN  RELATION  TO  THE 
MANAGEMENT  OF  A  SICK  CHAMBER. 

Mr.  Mould  was  surrounded   by  his  household  gods.     He 
was  enjoying  the  sweets  of  domestic  repose,  and  gazing  on 


404  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

them  with  a  calm  delight.  The  day  being  sultry,  and  the 
window  open,  the  legs  of  Mr.  Mould  were  on  the  window- 
seat  and  his  back  reclined  against  the  shutter.  Over  his 
shining  head  a  handkerchief  was  drawn,  to  guard  his  bald- 
ness from  the  flies.  The  room  was  fragrant  with  the  smell 
of  punch,  a  tumbler  of  which  grateful  compound  stood 
upon  a  small  round  table,  convenient  to  the  hand  of  Mr. 
Mould  ;  so  deftly  mixed,  that  as  his  eye  looked  down  into 
the  cool  transparent  drink,  another  eye,  peering  brightly 
from  behind  the  crisp  lemon-peel,  looked  up  at  him,  and 
twinkled  like  a  star. 

Deep  in  the  city,  and  with  inthe  ward  of  Cheap,  stood  Mr. 
Mould's  establishment.  His  harem,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
common  sitting-room  of  Mrs.  Mould  and  family,  was  at  the 
back,  over  the  little  counting-house  behind  the  shop  ;  abu- 
ting  on  a  churchyard  small  and  shady.  In  this  domestic 
chamber  Mr.  Mould  now  sat  ;  gazing,  a  placid  man,  upon  his 
punch  and  home.  If  for  a  moment  at  a  time,  he  sought  a 
wider  prospect,  whence  he  might  return  v/ith  freshened  zest 
to  these  enjoyments,  his  moist  glance  wandered  like  a  sun- 
beam through  a  rural  screen  of  scarlet  runners,  trained  on 
strings  before  the  window  ;  and  he  looked  down,  with  an 
artist's  eye,  upon  the  graves. 

The  partner  of  his  life,  and  daughters  twain,  were  Mr. 
Mould's  companions.  Plump  as  any  partridge  was  each 
Miss  Mould,  and  Mrs.  M.  was  plumper  than  the  two 
together.  So  round  and  chubby  were  their  fair  proportions, 
that  they  might  have  been  the  bodies  once  belonging  to  the 
angels'  faces  in  the  shop  below,  grown  up,  with  the  other 
heads  attached  to  make  them  mortal.  Even  their  peachy 
cheeks  were  puffed  out  and  distended  as  though  they  ought 
of  right  to  be  performing  on  celestial  trumpets.  The  bodi- 
less cherubs  in  the  shop,  who  were  depicted  as  constantly 
blowing  those  instruments  for  ever  and  ever  without  any 
lungs,  played,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  entirely  by  ear. 

Mr.  Mould  looked  lovingly  at  Mrs.  Mould,  who  sat  hard 
by,  and  was  a  helpmate  to  him  in  his  punch  as  in  all  other 
things.  Each  seraph  daughter,  too,  enjoyed  her  share  of  his 
regards,  and  smiled  upon  him  in  return.  So  bountiful  were 
Mr,  Mould's  possessions,  and  so  large  his  stock  in  trade,  that 
even  there,  within  his  household  sanctuary,  stood  a  cum- 
brous press,  whose  mahogany  maw  was  filled  with  shrouds, 
and  winding-sheets,  and  other  furniture  of  funerals.  But 
though  the  Misses  Mould  had  been  brought  up,  as  one  may 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  405 

say,  beneath  his  eye,  it  had  cast  no  shadow  on  tlieir  timid 
infancy  or  blooming  youth.  Sporting  behind  the 
scenes  of  death  and  burial  from  cradle-hood,  the  Misses 
Mould  knew  better.  Hatbands,  to  them,  were  but  so  many 
yards  ot  silk  or  crape;  the  final  robe  but  such  a  quantity  of 
linen.  The  Misses  Mould  could  idealize  a  player's  habit,  or 
a  court  lady's  petticoat,  or  even  an  act  of  parliament.  But 
they  were  not  to  be  taken  in  by  palls.  They  made  them 
sometimes. 

The  premises  of  Mr.  Mould  were  hard  of  hearing  to  the 
boisterous  noises  in  the  great  main  streets,  and  nestled  in  a 
quiet  corner,  where  the  city  strife  became  a  drowsy  hum, 
that  sometimes  rose  and  sometimes  fell  and  sometimes  alto- 
gether ceased;  suggesting  to  a  thoughtful  mind  a  stoppage 
in  Cheapside.  The  light  came  sparkling  in  among  the  scar- 
let runners,  as  it  the  churchyard  winked  at  Mr.  Mould,  and 
said,  ''  We  understand  each  other  ;  "  and  from  a  distant  shop 
a  pleasant  sound  of  coffin-making  with  a  low  melodious  ham- 
mer, rat,  tat,  tat,  tat,  alike  promoting  slumber  and  digestion. 

*'  Quite  the  buzz  of  insects,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  closing  his 
eyes  in  a  perfect  luxury.  *'  It  puts  one  in  mind  of  the  sound 
of  animated  nature  in  the  agricultural  districts.  It's  exactly 
like  the  woodpecker  tapping." 

'*  The  woodpecker  tapping  the  hollow  e/m  tree,"  observed 
Mrs.  Mould,  adapting  the  words  of  the  popular  melody  to 
the  description  of  wood  commonly  used  in  the  trade. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Mould.  "  Not  at  all  bad,  my 
dear.  We  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  again,  Mrs.  M. 
Hollow  elm  tree,  eh  ?  Ha,  ha  !  Very  good  indeed.  I've 
seen  worse  than  that  in  the  Sunday  papers,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Mould,  thus  encouraged,  took  a  little  more  of  the 
punch,  and  handed  it  to  her  daughters,  who  dutifully  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  their  mother. 

"  Hollow  <f/w  tree,  eh  ?  "  said  Mr.  Mould,  making  a  slight 
motion  with  his  legs  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  joke.  "It's  beech 
in  the  song.  Elm,  eh  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Upon 
my  soul,  that's  one  of  the  best  things  I  know  !  "  He  was  so 
excessively  tickled  by  her  jest  that  he  couldn't  forget  it,  but 
repeated  twenty  times,  "  Elm,  eh  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Elm,  of 
course.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Upon  my  life,  you  know,  that  ought 
to  be  sent  to  somebody  who  could  make  use  of  it.  It's  one 
of  the  smartest  things  that  ever  was  said.  Hollow  e/m  tree,  eh? 
Of  course.     Very  hollow,      Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Here  a  knock'v%'as  heard  at  the  room  door. 


4o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  That's  Tacker,  1  know,"  said  Mrs.  Mould,  "  by  the 
wheezing  he  makes.  Who  that  hears  him  now,  would  sup- 
pose he'd  ever  had  wind  enough  to  carry  the  feathers  on  his 
head  !     Come  in,  Tacker." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  Tacker,  looking  in  a  little 
way.     **  I  thought  our  governor  was  here." 

"Well  !  so  he  is,"  cried  Mould. 

"  Oh  !  I  didn't  see  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tacker,  looking 
in  a  little  further.  "  You  wouldn't  be  inclined  to  take  a 
walking  one  of  two,  with  the  plain  wood  and  a  tin  plate,  I 
suppose  ? "  . 

*'  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  "  much  too  common. 
Nothing  to  say  to  it." 

''  I  told  'em  it  was  precious  low,"  observed  Mr.  Tacker. 

"  Tell  'em  to  go  somewhere  else.  We  don't  do  that  style 
of  business  here,"  said  Mr.  Mould.  "  Like  their  impudence 
to  propose  it.     Who  is  it  ? " 

*'  Why,"  returned  Tacker,  pausing,  "  that's  where  it  is, 
you  see.     It's  the  beadle's  son-in-law." 

"  The  beadle's  son-in-law,  eh?  "  said  Mould.  "  Well  !  I'll 
do  it  if  the  beadle  follows  in  his  cocked  hat  ;  not  else.  We 
carry  it  off  that  way,  by  looking  official,  but  it'll  be  low 
enough  then.     His  cocked  hat,  mind  !  " 

""  I'll  take  care,  sir,"  rejoined  Tacker.  *'  Oh  !  Mrs. 
Gamp's  below,  and  wants  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Tell  Mrs.  Gamp  to  come  up-stairs,"  said  Mould.  "  Now, 
Mrs.  Gamp,  \N\idX •=>  your  news  ''  " 

The  lady^in  question  was  by  this  time  in  the  doorway, 
courtesying  to  Mrs.  Mould.  At  the  same  moment  a  peculiar 
fragrance  was  borne  upon  the  breeze,  as  if  a  passing  fairy 
had  hiccoughed,  and  had  previously  been  to  a  wine-vault. 

Mrs.  Gamp  made  no  response  to  Mr.  Mould,  but  courtesied 
to  Mrs.  Mould  again,  and  held  up  her  hands  and  eyes,  as  in 
a  devout  thanksgiving  that  she  looked  so  well.  She  was 
neatly,  but  not  gaudily  attired,  in  the  weeds  she  had  worn 
when  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  the  pleasure  of  making  her 
acquaintance  ;  and  was  perhaps  the  turning  of  a  scale  more 
snuffy. 

*'  There  are  some  happy  creeturs,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed, 
"  as  time  runs  back'ards  with,  and  you  are  one,  Mrs.  Mould; 
not  that  he  need  do  nothing  except  use  you  in  his  most 
owldacious  way  for  years  to  come,  I'm  sure  ;  for  young  you 
are  and  will  be.  I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris,"  Mrs,  Gamp  con- 
tinued, "  only   t'other  day  ;  the   last  Monday  evening  fort- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  407 

night  as  ever  dawned  upon  this  Piljian's  Projiss  of  a  mortal 
wale  ;  I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris  when  she  says  to  me,  *  Years  and 
our  trials,  Mrs.  Gamp,  sets  marks  upon  us  all.' — *  Say  not 
the  words,  Mrs.  Harris,  if  you  and  me  is  to  be  continual 
friends,  for  sech  is  not  the  case.  Mrs.  Mould,'  I  says,  mak- 
ing so  free,  I  will  confess,  as  use  the  name,"  (she  courtesied 
here),  "  '  is  one  of  them  that  goes  agen  the  obserwation 
straight  ;  and  never,  Mrs.  Harris,  while  I've  a  drop  of 
breath  to  draw,  will  I  set  by,  and  not  stand  up,  don't  think 
it.' — *  I  ast  your  pardon,  ma'am,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  *  and  I 
humbly  grant  your  grace  ;  for  if  ever  a  woman  lived  as 
would  see  her  feller  creeturs  into  fits  to  serve  her  friends, 
well  do  I  know  that  woman's  name  is  Sairey  Gamp.' " 

At  this  point  she  was  fain  to  stop  for  breath  ;  and  advan- 
tage may  be  taken  of  the  circumstance,  to  state  that  a  fear- 
ful mystery  surrounded  this  lady  of  the  name  of  Harris,  whom 
no  one  in  the  circle  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  acquaintance  had  ever 
seen  ;  neither  did  any  human  being  know  her  place  of  resi- 
dence, though  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared  on  her  own  showing  to 
be  in  constant  communication  with  her.  There  were  con- 
flicting rumors  on  the  subject  ;  but  the  prevalent  opinion 
was  that  she  was  a  phantom  of  Mrs. Gamp's  brain — as  Messrs. 
Doe  and  Roe  are  fictions  of  the  law — created  for  the  express 
purpose  of  holding  visionary  dialogues  with  her  on  all 
manner  of  subjects,  and  invariably  winding  up  with  a  com- 
pliment to  the  excellence  of  her  nature. 

"  And  likeways  what  a  pleasure,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  turning 
with  a  tearful  smile  toward  the  daughters,  *'  to  see  them  two 
young  ladies  as  I  know'd  afore  a  tooth  in  their  pretty  heads 
was  cut,  and  have  many  a  day  seen — ah,  the  sweet  creeturs! 
— playing  at  berryins  down  in  the  shop,  and  foUerin'  the 
order-book  to  its  long  home  in  the  iron  safe  !  But  that's  all 
past  and  over,  Mr.  Mould  ;  "  as  she  thus  got  in  a  carefullv 
regulated  routine  to  that  gentleman,  she  shook  her  head 
waggishly  ;  "  That's  all  past  and  over  now,  sir,  an't  it  ? " 

"  Changes,  Mrs.  Gamp,  changes  !  "  returned  the  under- 
taker. 

**  More  changes .  too,  to  come,  afore  we've  done  with 
changes,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  nodding  yet  more  waggishly 
than  before.  ''  Young  ladies  with  such  faces  thinks  of  some- 
thing else  besides  berryins,  don't  they,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Mould,  with 
a  chuckle. — '^  Not  bad  in  Mrs.  Gamp,  my  dear  ?  " 

*'  Oh  yes,  you  do  know,  sir  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "and  so 


4cS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

does  Mrs.  Mould,  your  'ansome  pardner  too,  sir  ;  and  so  do 
I,  although  the  blessing  of  a  daughter  was  deniged  me  ; 
which,  if  we  had  had  one,  Gamp  would  certainly  have  drunk 
its  little  shoes  right  off  its  feet,  as  with  our  precious  boy  he 
did,  and  arterward  send  the  child  a  errand  to  sell  his  wooden 
leg  for  any  money  it  would  fetch  as  matches  in  the  rough, 
and  bring  it  home  in  liquor  ;  which  was  truly  done  beyond 
his  years,  for  ev'ry  individgle  penny  that  child  lost  at  toss  or 
buy  for  kidney  ones  ;  and  come  home  arterward  quite  bold, 
to  break  the  news,  and  offering  to  drown  himself  if  sech 
would  be  a  satisfaction  to  his  parents. — Oh  yes,  you  do 
know,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  wiping  her  eye  with  her  shawl, 
and  resuming  the  thread  of  her  discourse.  "  There's  some- 
thing besides  births  and  berryins  in  the  newspapers,  an't 
there,  Mr.  Mould  ?  " 

Mr.  Mould  winked  at  Mrs.  Mould,  whom  he  had  by  this 
time  taken  on  his  knee,  and  said  :  "  No  doubt.  A  good 
deal  more,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Upon  my  life,  Mrs  Gamp  is  very 
far  from  bad,  my  dear  !  " 

"  There's  marryings,  an't  there,  sir  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
while  both  the  daughters  blushed  and  tittered.  "  Bless  their 
precious  hearts,  and  well  they  knows  it  !  Well  you  know'd 
it  too,  and  well  did  Mrs.  Mould,  when  you  was  at  their  time 
of  life  !  But  my  opinion  is,  you're  all  of  one  age  now.  For 
as  to  you  and  Mrs.  Mould,  sir,  ever  having  grandchildren — " 

"  Oh  !  Fie,  fie  !  Nonsense,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  replied  the  under- 
taker. '*  Devilish  smart,  though.  Ca-pi-tal  !  "  This  was  in 
a  whisper.  **  My  dear" — aloud  again — *'  Mrs.  Gamp  can 
drink  a  glass  of  rum,  I  dare  say.  Sit  down,  Mrs.  Gamp,  sit 
down." 

Mrs.  Gamp  took  the  chair  that  was  nearest  the  door,  and 
casting  up  her  eyes  toward  the  ceiling,  feigned  to  be  wholly 
insensible  to  the  fact  of  a  glass  of  rum  being  in  preparation, 
until  it  was  placed  in  her  hand  by  one  of  the  young  ladies, 
when  she  exhibited  the  greatest  surprise. 

"  A  thing,"  she  said,  "  as  hardly  ever,  Mrs.  Mould,  occurs 
with  me  unless  it  is  when  I  am  indispoged,  and  find  my 
half  a  pint  of  porter  settling  heavy  on  the  chest.  Mrs.  Harris 
often  and  often  says  to  me,  '  Sairey  Gamp,'  she  says,  '  you 
raly  do  amaze  me  ! '  'Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  '  why  so  ? 
Give  it  a  name,  I  beg.'  *  Telling  the  truth  then,  ma'am,' 
says  Mrs.  Harris,  *  and  shaming  him  as  shall  be  nameless 
betwixt  you  and  me,  never  did  I  think  till  I  know'd  you,  as 
any  Avoman  could  sick-nurse  and  monthly  likeways,  on  the 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  409 

little  that  you  takes  to  drink.'  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her, 
'  none  on  us  knows  what  we  can  do  till  we  tries  ;  and  wunst, 
when  me  and  Gamp  kept  'ouse,  I  thought  so  too.  But  now,' 
I  says,  '  my  half  a  pint  of  porter  fully  satisfies  ;  perwisin', 
Mrs.  Harris,  that  it  is  brought  reg'lar,  and  draw'd  mild. 
Whether  I  sicks  or  monthlies,  ma'am,  I  hope  I  does  my 
duty,  but  1  am  but  a  poor  woman,  and  I  earns  my  living 
hard  ;  therefore  I  do  require  it,  which  I  makes  confession, 
to  be  brought  reg'lar  and  draw'd  mild.'  " 

The  precise  connection  between  these  observations  and 
the  glass  of  rum,  did  not  appear  ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp  pro- 
posing as  a  toast  "  The  best  of  lucks  to  all  !  "  took  off  the 
dram  in  quite  a  scientific  manner,  without  any  further 
remarks. 

**  And  what's  your  news,  Mrs.  Gamp  ? "  asked  Mould 
again,  as  that  lady  wiped  her  lips  upon  her  shawl,  and  nib- 
bled a  corner  off  a  soft  biscuit,  which  she  appeared  to  carry 
in  her  pocket  as  a  provision  against  contingent  drams. 
"  How's  Mr.  Chuffey  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Chuffey,  sir,"  she  replied,  *'  is  jest  as  usual ;  he  an't 
no  better  and  he  an't  no  worse.  I  take  it  very  kind  in  the 
gentleman  to  have  wrote  up  to  you,  and  said,  '  let  Mrs. 
Gamp  take  care  of  him  till  1  come  home  ; '  but  ev'ry  think 
he  does  is  kind.  There  an't  a  many  like  him.  If  there  was, 
we  shouldn't  want  no  churches." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  speak  to  me  about,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  " 
said  Mould,  coming  to  the  point. 

**  Jest  this,  sir/'  Mrs.  Gamp  returned,  *'  with  thanks  to  you 
for  asking.  There /j-  a  gent,  sir,  at  the  Bull  in  Holborn,  as 
has  been  took  ill  there,  and  is  bad  abed.  They  have  a  day 
nurse  as  was  recommended  from  Bartholomev>^'s  ;  and  well 
I  knows  her,  Mr.  Mould,  her  name  bein'  Mrs.  Prig,  the 
best  of  creeturs.  But  she  is  otherways  engaged  at  night, 
and  they  are  in  wants  of  night-watching  ;  consequent  she 
says  to  thern,  having  reposed  the  greatest  friendliness  in  me 
for  twenty  year,  '  The  soberest  person  going,  and  the  best  of 
blessings  in  a  sick  room,  is  Mrs.  Gamp.  Send  a  boy  to 
Kingsgate  Street,'  she  says,  '  and  snap  her  up  at  any  price, 
for  Mrs.  Gamp  is  worth  her  weight  and  more  in  goldian 
guineas.'  My  landlord  brings  the  message  down  to  me,  and 
says,  '  Bein'  in  a  light  place  where  you  are,  and  this  job 
promising  so  well,  why  not  unite  the  two  ? '  '  No  sir,'  I  says, 
■  not  unbeknown  to  Mr.  Mould,  and  therefore  do  not  think 
it.     But  I  will  go  to  Mr.  Mould,'  I  says,  '  and  ast  him,  if  jou 


4IO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

like.'  "     Here  she  looked   sideways  at  the   undertaker,  and 
came  to  a  stop. 

*'  Night-watching,  eh  ?  "  said  Mould,  rubbing  his  chin. 

"  From  eight  o'clock  till  eight,  sir.  I  will  not  deceive 
you,"  Mrs.  Gamp  rejoined. 

"  And  then  go  back,  eh  ?  "  said  Mould. 

"  Quite  free  then,  sir,  to  attend  to  Mr.  Chuff ey.  His  ways 
bein'  quiet,  and  his  hours  early,  he'd  be  abed,  sir,  nearly  all 
the  time.  I  will  not  deny,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  with  meekness, 
"  that  I  am  but  a  poor  woman,  and  that  the  money  is  a 
object  ;  but  do  not  let  that  act  upon  you,  Mr.  Mould.  Rich 
folks  may  ride  on  camels,  but  it  ain't  so  easy  for  'em  to  see 
out  of  a  needle's  eye.  That  is  my  comfort,  and  I  hope  I 
knows  it." 

'*  Well,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  observed  Mould,  "  I  don't  see  any 
particular  objection  to  your  earning  an  honest  penny  under 
such  circumstances.  I  should  keep  it  quiet,  I  think,  Mrs. 
Gamp.  I  wouldn't  mention  it  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  on  his 
return,  for  instance,  unless  it  were  necessary,  or  he  asked 
you  point  blank." 

''  The  very  words  was  on  my  lips,  sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  rejoined. 
**  Suppoging  that  the  gent  should  die,  I  hope  I  might  take  the 
liberty  of  saying  as  1  knowed  some  one  in  the  undertaking 
line,  and  yet  give  no  offense  to  you,  sir  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Mould,  with  much  conde- 
scension. *  You  may  casually  remark,  in  such  a  case,  that 
we  do  the  thing  pleasantly  and  in  a  great  variety  of  styles, 
and  are  generally  considered  to  make  it  as  agreeable  as  pos- 
sible to  the  feelings  of  the  survivors.  But  don't  obtrude  it, 
don't  obtrude  it.  Easy,  easy  !  ]\[y  dear,  you  may  as  well 
give  Mrs.  Gamp  a  card  or  two,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Gamp  received  them,  and  scenting  no  more  rum  in 
the  wind  (for  the  bottle  was  locked  up  again)  rose  to  take 
her  departure. 

'*  Wishing  ev'ry  happiness  to  this  happy  family,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  ^Vith  all  my  heart.  Good  arternoon,  Mrs.  Mould  ! 
If  I  was  Mr.  Mould,  I  should  be  jealous  of  you,  ma'am;  and 
I'm  sure,  if  I  was  you,  I  should  be  jealous  of  Mr.  Mould." 

"  Tut,  tut !  Bah,  bah  !  Go  along,  Mrs.  Gamp  !  "  cried  the 
delighted  undertaker. 

*' As  to  the  young  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  a 
courtesy,  "  bless  their  sweet  looks,  how  they  can  ever  recon- 
size  it  with  their  duties  to  be  so  grown  up  with  such  young 
parents,  it:  ain't  for  sech  as  me  to  give  a  guess  at." 


/ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  411 

**  Nonsense,  nonsense.  Be  off,  Mrs.  Gamp  !  "  cried  Mould. 
But  in  the  height  of  his  gratification,  he  actually  pinched 
Mrs.  Mould  as  he  said  it. 

**  I'll  tell  you  what,  my  dear,"  he  observed,  when  Mrs. 
Gamp  had  at  last  withdrawn,  and  shut  the  door,  "  that's  a 
very  shrewd  woman.  That's  a  woman  whose  intellect  is 
immensely  superior  to  her  station  in  life.  That's  a  woman 
who  observes  and  reflects  in  an  uncommon  manner.  She's 
the  sort  of  woman  now,"- said  Mould,  drawing  his  silk  hand- 
kerchief over  his  head  again,  and  composing  himself  for  a 
nap,  ''one  would  almost  feel  disposed  to  bury  for  nothing; 
and  do  it  neatly,  too  !  " 

Mrs.  Mould  and  her  daughters  fully  concurred  in  these 
remarks;  the  subject  of  which  had  by  this  time  reached  the 
street,  where  she  experienced  so  much  inconvenience  from 
the  air,  that  she  was  obliged  to  stand  under  an  archway  for 
a  short  time,  to  recover  herself.  Even  after  this  precaution, 
she  walked  so  unsteadily  as  to  attract  the  compassionate 
regards  of  divers  kind-hearted  boys,  who  took  the  liveliest 
interest  in  her  disorder;  and  in  their  simple  language, 
bade  her  be  of  good  cheer,  for  she  was  ''  only  a  little 
screwed." 

Whatever  she  was,  or  whatever  name  the  vocabulary  of 
medical  science  would  have  bestowed  upon  her  malady, 
Mrs.  Gamp  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  way  home 
again;  and  arriving  at  the  house  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  & 
Son,  lay  down  to  rest.  Remaining  there  until  seven  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  and  then  persuading  poor  old  Chuffey  to 
betake  himself  to  bed,  she  sallied  forth  upon  her  new 
engagement.  First,  she  went  to  her  private  lodgings  in 
Kingsgate  Street,  for  a  bundle  of  robes  and  wrappings  com- 
fortable in  the  night  season;  and  then  repaired  to  the  Bull 
in  Holborn,  which  she  reached  as  the  clocks  were  striking 
eight. 

As  she  turned  into  the  yard,  she  stopped;  for  the  land- 
lord, landlady,  and  head  chambermaid,  were  all  on  the 
threshold  together,  talking  earnestly  with  a  young  gentle- 
man who  seemed  to  have  just  come  or  to  be  just  going  away. 
The  first  words  that  struck  upon  Mrs.  Gamp's  ear  obviously 
bore  reference  to  the  patient;  and  it  being  expedient  that 
all  good  attendants  should  know  as  much  as  possible  about 
the  case  on  which  their  skill  is  brought  to  bear,  Mrs.  Gamp 
listened  as  a  matter  of  duty. 

"  No  better,  then  ?"  observed  the  grentleman. 


412  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 

"  Worse  !  "  said  the  landlord. 

'*  Much  worse,"  added  the  landlady. 

"  Oh  !  a  deal  badder,"  cried  the  chambermaid  from  the 
background,  opening  her  eyes  very  wide,  and  shaking  her 
head. 

**  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear 
it.  The  worst  of  it  is,  that  I  have  no  idea  what  friends  or 
relations  he  has,  or  where  they  live,  except  that  it  certainly 
is  not  in  London." 

The  landlord  looked  at  the  landlady;  the  landlady  looked 
at  the  landlord;  and  the  chami)ermaid  remarked,  hysteri- 
cally, "  that  of  all  the  many  wague  directions  she  had  ever 
seen  or  heerd  of  (and  they  wasn't  few  in  a  hotel),  iJiat  was 
the  waguest." 

^*  The  fact  is,  you  see,"  pursued  the  gentleman,  *'as  I  told 
you  yesterday  when  you  sent  to  me,  I  really  know  very  little 
about  him.  We  were  schoolfellows  together;  but  since  that 
time  I  have  only  met  him  twice.  On  both  occasions  I  was  in 
London  for  a  boy's  holiday  (having  come  up  for  a  week  or  so 
from  Wiltshire),  and  lost  sight  of  him  again  directly.  The 
letter  bearing  my  name  and  address,  which  you  found  upon 
his  table,  and  which  led  to  your  applying  to  me,  is  in  answer, 
you  will  observe,  to  one  he  wrote  from  this  house  the  very 
day  he  was  taken  ill,  making  an  appointment  with  him  at 
his  own  request.     Here  is  his  letter,  if  you  wish  to  see  it." 

The  landlord  read  it;  the  landlady  looked  over  him.  The 
chambermaid,  in  the  background,  made  out  as  much  of  it 
as  she  could,  and  invented  the  rest;  believing  it  all  from 
that  time  forth  as  a  positive  piece  of  evidence. 

"  He  has  very  little  luggage,  you  say  ? "  observed  the 
gentleman,  who  was  no  other  than  our  old  friend,  John 
Westlock. 

"  Nothing  but  a  portmanteau,"  said  the  landlord;  **  and 
very  little  in  it." 

**  A  few  pounds  in  his  purse,  though  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It's  sealed  up,  and  in  the  cash-box.  I  made  a 
memorandum  of  the  amount,  which  you're  welcome  to  see." 

"Well!"  said  John,  "as  the  medical  gentleman  says  the 
fever  must  take  its  course,  and  nothing  can  be  done  just 
now  beyond  giving  him  his  drinks  regularly  and  having  him 
carefully  attended  to,  nothing  more  can  be  said  that  I  know 
of,  until  he  is  in  a  condition  to  give  us  some  information. 
Can  you  suggest  any  thing  else  ? " 

**N-no,"  replied  the  landlord,  "except—" 


MARTJN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  413 

*'  Except,  who's  to  pay,  I  suppose  '  "  said  John. 

''Why,"  liesitated  the  landlord,  ''it  would  be  as  well." 

''Quite  as  well,"  said  the  landlady. 

"  Not  forgetting  to  remember  the  servants,"  said  the 
chambermaid,  in  a  bland  whisper. 

"  It  is  but  reasonable,  I  fully  admit,"  said  John  West- 
lock.  "At  all  events,  you  have  the  stock  in  hand  to  go  upon 
for  the  present;  and  I  will  readily  undertake  to  pay  the  doc- 
tor and  the  nurses." 

"Ah!  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.     "A  rayal  gentleman!  " 

She  groaned  her  admiration  so  audibly  that  they  all  turned 
round.  Mrs.  Gamp  felt  the  necessity  of  advancing,  bundle 
in  hand,  and  introducing  herself. 

"  The  night  nurse,"  she  observed,  "  from  Kingsgate  Street, 
well  beknown  to  Mrs.  Prig,  the  day-nurse,  and  the  best  of 
creeturs.  How  is  the  poor,  dear  gentleman  to-night  ?  If  he 
an't  no  better  yet,  still  that  is  what  must  be  expected  and 
prepared  for.  It  an't  the  fust  time  by  a  many  score,  ma'am," 
dropping  a  courtesy  to  the  landlady,  "  that  Mrs.  Prig  and  me 
has  nussed  together,  turn  and  turn  about,  one  off,  one  on. 
We  knows  each  other's  ways,  and  often  gives  relief  when 
others  fail.  Our  charges  is  but  low,  sir" — Mrs.  Gamp 
addressed  herself  to  John  on  this  head — "  considerin'  the 
nater  of  our  painful  dooty.  If  they  wos  made  accordin'  to 
our  wishes  they  would  be  easy  paid." 

Regarding  herself  as  having  now  delivered  her  inaugura- 
tion address,  Mrs.  Gamp  courtesied  all  round,  and  signified 
her  wish  to  be  conducted  to  the  scene  of  her  official  duties. 
The  chambermaid  led  her,  through  a  variety  of  intricate  pas- 
sages, to  the  top  of  the  house;  and  pointing  at  length  to  a 
solitary  door  at  the  end  of  a  gallery,  informed  her  that  yon- 
der was  the  chamber  where  the  patient  lay.  That  done,  she 
hurried  off  with  all  the  speed  she  could  make. 

Mrs.  Gamp  traversed  the  gallery  in  a  great  heat  from  hav- 
ing carried  her  large  bundle  up  so  many  stairs,  and  tapped  at 
the  door,  which  was  immediately  opened  by  Mrs.  Prig,  bon- 
neted and  shawled  and  all  impatience  to  be  gone.  Mrs.  Prig 
was  of  the  Gamp  build,  but  not  so  fat;  and  her  voice  was 
deeper  and  more  like  a  man's.     She  had  also  a  beard. 

"  I  began  to  think  you  warn't  a-coming !  "  Mrs.  Prig 
observed,  in  some  displeasure. 

"  It  shall  be  made  good  to-morrow  night,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  "//onorable.  I  had  to  go  and  fetch  my  things." 
She  had  begun  to  make  signs  of  inquiry  in  reference  to  the 


414  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

position  of  the  patient  and  his  overhearing  them — for  there 
was  a  screen  before  the  door — when  Mrs.  Prig  settled  that 
point  easily. 

"Oh!"  she  said  aloud,  "he's  quiet,  but  his  wits  is  gone. 
It  ain't  no  matter  wot  you  say." 

"Any  thing  to  tell  afore  you  goes,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs, 
Gamp,  setting  her  bundle  down  inside  the  door,  and  looking 
affectionately  at  her  partner. 

"  The  pickled  salmon,"  Mrs.  Prig  replied,  "  is  quite  deli- 
cious. I  can  partick'ler  recommend  it.  Don't  have  nothink 
to  say  to  the  cold  meat,  for  it  tastes  of  the  stable.  The 
drinks  is  all  good." 

Mrs.  Gamp  expressed  herself  much  gratified. 

"  The  physic  and  them  things  is  on  the  drawers  and 
mankle-shelf,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  cursorily.  "  He  took  his 
last  slime  draught  at  seven.  The  easy-chair  an't  soft 
enough.     You'll  want  his  piller." 

Mrs.  Gamp  thanked  her  for  these  hints,  and  giving  her  a 
friendly  good-night,  held  the  door  open  until  she  had  dis- 
appeared at  the  other  end  of  the  gallery.  Having  thus  per- 
formed the  hospitable  duty  of  seeing  her  off,  she  shut  it, 
locked  it  on  the  inside,  took  up  her  bundle,  walked  round 
the  screen,  and  entered  on  her  occupation  of  the  sick 
chamber. 

"A  little  dull,  but  not  so  bad  as  might  be,"  Mrs.  Gamp 
remarked.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  a  parapidge,  in  case  of  fire, 
and  lots  of  roofs  and  chimley-pots  to  walk  upon." 

It  will  be  seen  from  these  remarks  that  Mrs.  Gamp  was 
looking  out  of  window.  When  she  had  exhausted  the  pros- 
pect, she  tried  the  easy-chair,  which  she  indignantly  declared 
was  "harder  than  brickbadge."  Next  she  pursued  her 
researches  among  the  physic-bottle,  glasses,  jugs,  and  tea- 
cups ;  and  when  she  had  entirely  satisfied  her  curiosity  on  all 
these  subjects  of  investigation,  she  untied  her  bonnet-strings 
and  strolled  up  to  the  bed-side  to  take  a  look  at  the  patient. 

A  young  man — dark  and  not  ill-looking — with  long  black 
hair,  that  seemed  the  blacker  for  the  whiteness  of  the  bed- 
clothes. His  eyes  were  partly  open,  and  he  never  ceased  to 
roll  his  head  from  side  to  side  upon  the  pillow,  keeping  his 
body  almost  quiet.  He  did  not  utter  words  ;  but  every 
now  and  then  gave  vent  to  an  expression  of  impatience  or 
fatigue,  sometimes  of  surprise  ;  and  still  his  restless  head — 
ah,  weary,  weary  hour  ! — went  to  and  fro  without  a  moment's 
intermission. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  415 

Mrs.  'Garop  solaced  herself  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and 
stood  looking  at  him  with  her  head  inclined  a  little  sideways, 
as  a  connoisseur  might  gaze  upon  a  doubtful  work  of  art. 
By  degrees,  a  horrible  remembrance  of  one  branch  of  her 
calling  took  possession  of  the  woman  ;  and  stooping  down, 
she  pinned  his  wandering  arms  against  his  sides,  to  see  how 
he  would  look  if  laid  out  as  a  dead  man.  Hideous  as  it 
may  appear,  her  fingers  itched  to  compose  his  limbs  in  that 
last  marble  attitude. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  walking  a\vay  from  the  bed, 
"  he'd  make  a  lovely  corpse." 

She  now  proceeded  to  unpack  her  bundle  ;  lighted  a 
candle  with  the  aid  of  a  fire-box  on  the  drawers  ;  filled  a 
small  kettle,  as  a  preliminary  to  refreshing  herself  with  a 
cup  of  tea  in  the  course  of  the  night  ;  laid  what  she  called 
"  a  little  bit  of  fire,"  for  the  same  philanthropic  purpose  ; 
and  also  set  forth  a  small  teaboard,  that  nothing  might  be 
wanting  for  her  comfortable  enjoyment.  These  preparations 
occupied  so  long,  that  when  they  were  brought  to  a  conclu- 
sion it  was  high  time  to  think  about  supper  ;  so  she  rang 
the  bell  and  ordered  it. 

"1  think,  young  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  to  the  assist- 
ant chambermaid,  in  a  tone  expressive  of  weakness,  "  that 
I  could  pick  a  little  bit  of  pickled  salmon,  with  a  nice  little 
sprig  of  fennel,  and  a  sprinkling  of  white  pepper.  I  takes 
new  bread,  my  dear,  with  jest  a  little  pat  of  fresh  butter,  and 
a  morsel  of  cheese.  In  case  there  should  be  such  a  thing  as 
a  cowcumber  in  the  'ouse,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  bring  it, 
for  I'm  rather  partial  to  'em,  and  they  does  a  world  of  good 
in  a  sick  room.  If  they  draws  the  Brighton  Tipper 
here,  I  takes  ihatd^Q  at  night,  my  love  ;  it  being  considered 
wakeful  by  the  doctors.  And  v/hatever  you  do,  young 
woman,  don't  bring  more  than  a  shilling's-worth  of  gin  and 
water  warm  v/hen  I  rings  the  beil  a  second  time  ;  for  that  is 
always  my  allowance,  and  I  never  takes  a  drop  beyond  !  " 

Having  preferred  these  moderate  requests,  Mrs.  Gamp 
observed  that  she  would  stand  at  the  door  until  the  order 
was  executed,  to  the  end  that  the  patient  might  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  her  opening  it  a  second  time  ;  and  therefore  she 
would  thank  the  young  woman  to  *'  look  sharp." 

A  tray  was  brought  v/ith  every  thing  upon  it,  even  to  the 
cucumber  ;  and  Mrs.  Gamp  accordingly  sat  down  to  eat 
and  drink  in  high  good  humor.  The  extent  to  which  she 
availed  herself  of  the  vinegar,  and  supped  up  that  refreshing 


4i6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

fluid  with  the  blade  of  her  knife,  can  scarcely  be  expressed 
in  narrative. 

**  Ah  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  she  meditated  over  the 
warm  shilling's-worth,  *'  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is — living  in 
a  wale — to  be  contented  !  What  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to 
make  sick  people  happy  in  their  beds,  and  never  m.ind  one's 
self  as  long  as  one  can  do  a  service  !  I  don't  believe  a 
finer  cowcumber   was  ever    grow'd.     I'm   sure  I  never  see 


one 


t " 


She  moralized  in  the  same  vein  until  her  glass  was  empty, 
and  then  administered  the  patient's  medicine,  by  the  simple 
process  of  clutching  his  windpipe  to  make  him  gasp,  and 
immediately  pouring  it  down  his  throat. 

"I  a'most  forgot  the  piller,  I  declare  !"  said  Mrs  Gamp, 
drawing  it  away.  **  There  !  Now  he's  comfortable  as  he 
can  be,  I'm  sure  !  I  must  try  to  make  myself  as  much  so  as  I 
can." 

With  this  view,  she  went  about  the  construction  of  an 
extemporaneous  bed  in  the  easy  chair,  with  the  addition  of  the 
next  easy  one  at  her  feet.  Having  formed  the  best  couch 
that  the  circumstances  admitted  of,  she  took  out  of  her  bundle 
a  yellow  nightcap,  of  prodigious  size,  in  shape  resembling  a 
cabbage  ;  which  article  of  dress  she  fixed  and  tied  on  with 
the  utmost  care,  previously  divesting  herself  of  a  row  of  bald 
old  curls  that  could  scarcely  be  called  false,  they  were  so 
very  innocent  of  any  thing  approaching  to  deception.  From 
the  same  repository  she  brought  forth  a  night  jacket,  in 
which  she  also  attired  herself.  Finally,  she  produced  a 
watchman's  coat,  which  she  tied  round  her  neck  by  the 
sleeves,  so  that  she  became  two  people  ;  and  looked,  beliind, 
as  if  she  were  in  the  act  of  being  embraced  by  one  of  the 
old  patrol. 

All  these  arrangements  made,  she  lighted  the  rushlight, 
coiled  herself  upon  her  couch,  and  went  to  sleep.  Cxhostly 
and  dark  the  room  became,  and  full  of  lowering  shadows. 
The  distant  noises  in  the  streets  were  gradually  hushed  ; 
the  house  was  quiet  as  a  sepulchre  ;  the  dead  of  night  was 
coffined  in  the  silent  city. 

Oh  weary,  weary  hour  !  Oh  haggard  mind,  groping 
darkly  through  the  past  ;  incapable  of  detaching  itself  from 
the  miserable  present  ;  dragging  its  heavy  chain  of  care 
through  imaginary  feasts  and  revels,  and  scenes  of  awful 
pomp  ;  seeking  but  a  moment's  rest  among  the  long-forgot- 
ten haunts  of  childhood,  and  the  resorts  of  yesterday  ;    and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  417 

dimly  finding  fear  and  horror  everywhere  !  Oh,  weary,  weary 
hour  !  What  were  the  wanderings  of  Cain,  to  these  ! 

Still  without  a  moment's  interval,  the  burning  head  tossed 
to  and  fro.  Still,  from  time  to  time,  fatigue,  impatience, 
suffering,  and  surprise,  found  utterance  upon  that  rack,  and 
plainly  too,  though  never  once  in  words.  At  length,  in  the 
solemn  hour  of  midnight,  he  began  to  talk  ;  waiting  awfully 
for  answers  sometimes,  as  though  invisible  companions  were 
about  his  bed,  and  so  replying  to  their  speech  and  questioning 
again. 

Mrs.  Gamp  awoke,  and  sat  up  in  her  bed,  presenting  on 
the  wall  the  shadow  of  a  gigantic  night  constable,  struggling 
with  a  prisoner. 

"  Come  !  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  she  cried,  in  sharp  reproof. 
^'  Don't  make  none  of  that  noise  here." 

There  was  no  alteration  in  his  face,  or  in  the  incessant 
motion  of  the  head,  but  he  talked  on  wildly. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  coming  out  of  the  chair  with  an 
impatient  shiver  ;  "  I  thought  I  was  a  sleepin'  too  pleasant 
to  last  !  The  devil's  in  the  night,  I  think,  it's  turned  so 
chilly  !  " 

"Don't  drink  so  much  !  "  cried  the  sick  man.  "You'll 
ruin  us  all.  Don't  you  see  hov/  the  fountain  sinks  ?  Look 
at  the  mark  where  the  sparkling  water  was  just  now  !  " 

"  Sparkling  water^  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  ''  I'll  have 
a  sparkling  cup  o'  tea,  I  think.  I  wish  you'd  hold  your 
noise  !  " 

He  burst  into  a  laugh,  which,  being  prolonged,  fell  off 
into  a  dismal  wail.  Checking  himself^  with  fierce  incon- 
stancy he  began  to  count,  fast. 

"  One — two — three — four — five — six."  ^ 

"  *  One,  two,  buckle  my  shoe,'  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  who  was 
now  on  her  knees,  lighting  the  fire,  "  *  three,  four,  shut  the 
door,' — I  wish  you'd  shut  your  mouth,  young  man^ — '  five, 
six,  picking  up  sticks.'  If  I'd  got  a  few  handy,  I  should 
have  the  kettle  biling  all  the  sooner." 

Awaiting  the  desirable  consummation,  she  sat  down  so 
close  to  the  fender  (which  was  a  high  one)  that  her  nose 
rested  upon  it  ;  and  for  some  time  she  drowsily  amused  her- 
self by'  sliding  that  feature  backwards  and  forwards  along 
the  brass  top,  as  far  as  she  could,  without  changing  her  posi- 
tion to  do  it.  She  maintained,  all  the  while,  a  running  com- 
mentary upon  the  wanderings  of  the  man  in  bed. 

"  That    makes    five    hundred    and    twenty-one  men,  all 


4i8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

dressed  alike,  and  with  the  same  distortion  on  their  faces, 
that  have  passed  in  at  that  window,  and  out  at  the  door,"  he 
cried,  anxiously.  ''  Look  there  !  Five  hundred  and  twenty- 
tv/o — twenty-three — twenty-four.     Do  you  see  them  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  /  see  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  ''  all  the  whole  kit 
of  'em  numbered  like  hackney-coaches,  ain't  they  ?  " 

"  Touch  me  !  Let  me  be  sure  of  this.     Touch  me  I  " 

"  You'll  take  your  next  draught  v/hen  I've  made  the  kettle 
bile,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp,  composedly,  "and  you'll  be 
touched  then.  You'll  be  touched  up,  too,  if  you  don't  take 
it  quiet." 

"  Five  hundred  and  twenty-eight,  five  hundred  and 
twenty-nine,  five  hundred  and  thirty, — look  here  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

**  They're  coming  four  abreast,  each  man  with  his  arm 
intwined  in  the  next  man's,  and  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
What's  that  upon  the  arm  of  every  man,  and  on  the  flag  ? " 

"  Spiders,  p'raps,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Crape  !  Black  crape  !  Good  God  !  why  do  they  wear  it 
outside  ? " 

"  Would  you  have  'em  carry  black  crape  in  their  insides  ? " 
Mrs.  Gamp  retorted.     "  Hold  your  noise,  hold  your  noise." 

The  fire  beginning  by  this  time  to  impart  a  grateful 
warmth,  Mrs  Gamp  became  silent  ;  gradually  rubbed  her 
nose  more  and  more  slov/ly  along  the  top  of  the  fender;  and 
fell  into  a  heavy  doze.  She  was  awakened  by  the  room 
ringing  (as  she  fancied)  with  a  name  she  knew: 

"  Chuzzlewit !  " 

The  sound  v/as  so  distinct  and  real,  and  so  full  of  agon- 
ized entreaty,  that  Mrs.  Gamp  jumped  up  in  terror,  and  ran 
to  the  door.  She  expected  to  find  the  passage  filled  with 
people,  come  to  tell  her  that  the  house  in  the  city  had  taken 
fire.  But  the  place  was  empty — not  a  soul  was  there.  She 
opened  the  window,  and  looked  out.  Dark,  dull,  dingy,  and 
desolate  house-tops.  As  she  passed  to  her  seat  again,  she 
glanced  at  the  patient.  Just  the  same;  but  silent.  Mrs. Gamp 
was  so  warm  now,  that  she  threw  off  the  watchman's  coat, 
and  fanned  herself. 

"  It  seemed  to  make  the  wery  bottles  ring,"  she  said. 
**  What  could  I  have  been  a-dreaming  of  ?  That  dratted 
Chuffey,  I'll  be  bound." 

The  supposition  was  probable  enough.  At  any  rate,  a 
pinch  of  snuff,  and  the  song  of  the  steaming  kettle,  (piite 
restored  the  tone  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  nerves,  which  were  none  of 


MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT.  419 

the  weakest.  She  brewed  her  tea;  made  some  buttered 
toast;  and  sat  down  at  the  tea-board,  with  her  face  to  the 
fire. 

When  once  again,  in  a  tone  more  terrible  than  that  \^4hich 
had  vibrated  in  her  skimbering  ear,  these  words  were  shrieked 
out: 

"  Chuzzlewit  !    Jonas  !    No  !" 

Mrs.  Gamp  dropped  the  cup  she  was  in  the  act  of  raising 
to  her  hps,  and  turned  round  with  a  start  that  made  the  little 
tea-board  leap.     The  cry  had  come  from  the  bed. 

It  was  bright  morning  the  next  time  Mrs.  Gamp  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  the  sun  was  rising  cheerfully.  Lighter 
and  lighter  grew  the  sky,  and  noisier  the  streets;  and  high 
into  the  summer  air  uprose  the  smoke  of  newly  kindled 
fires,  until  the  busy  day  was  broad  awake. 

Mrs.  Prig  relieved  punctually,  having  passed  a  good  night 
at  her  other  patient's.  Mr.  Westlock  came  at  the  same 
time,  but  he  was  not  admitted,  the  disorder  being  infec- 
tious. The  doctor  came  too.  The  doctor  shook  his  head. 
It  was  all  he  could  do,  under  the  circumstances,  and  he  did 
it  well. 

"  What  sort  of  a  night,  nurse  ?  " 

"Restless,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Talk  much  ?  " 

"  Middling,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Nothing  to  the  purpose,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Oh  bless  you  no,  sir.     Only  jargon." 

**  Well  !  "  said  the  doctor,  'Sve  must  keep  him  quiet;  keep 
the  room  cool;  give  him  his  draughts  regularly;  and  see  that 
he's  carefully  looked  to.     That's  all  !  " 

"  And  as  long  as  Mrs.  Prig  and  me  waits  upon  him,  si^^  no 
fear  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  I  suppose,"  observed  Mrs.  Prig,  when  they  had  courte- 
sied  the  doctor  out,  "  there's  nothin'  new  ? " 

"  Nothin'  at  all,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  He's  rather 
wearin'  in  his  talk  from  making  up  a  lot  of  names;  elseways 
you  needn't  mind  him." 

"Oh,  I  shan't  mind  him,"  Mrs.  Prig  returned.  "I  have 
somethin'  else  to  think  of." 

"  I  pays  my  debts  to-night,  you  know,  my  dear,  and  comes 
afore  my  time,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But,  Betsey  Prig  " — 
speaking  v/ith  great  feeling,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  her 
arm — "  try  the  cowcumbers.  God  bless  you  1  " 


420  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AJJ  UNEXPECTED  MEETING,  AND  A  PROMISING  PROSPECT. 

The  laws  of  sympathy  between  beards  and  birds,  and  the 
secret  source  of  that  attraction  which  frequently  impels  a 
shaver  of  the  one  to  be  a  dealer  in  the  other,  are  questions 
for  the  subtle  reasoning  of  scientific  bodies;  not  the  less  so, 
because  their  investigation  would  seem  calculated  to  lead  to 
no  particular  result.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  the  artisc 
who  had  the  honor  of  entertaining  Mrs.  Gamp  as  his  first- 
floor  lodger  united  the  two  pursuits  of  barbering  and  bird- 
fancying;  and  that  it  was  not  an  original  idea  of  his,  but  one 
in  which  he  had,  dispersed  about  the  by-streets  and  suburbs 
of  the  town,  a  host  of  rivals. 

The  name  of  this  householder  was  Paul  Svveedlepipe.  But 
he  was  commonly  called  Poll  Sweedlepipe,  and  was  not 
uncommonly  believed  to  have  been  so  christened,  among  his 
friends  and  neighbors. 

With  the  exce])tion  of  the  staircase,  and  his  lodger's  pri- 
vate apartment,  Poll  Sweedlepipe's  house  was  one  great  bird's 
nest.  Game-cocks  resided  in  the  kitchen;  pheasants  wasted 
the  brightness  of  their  golden  plumage  on  the  garret ;  ban- 
tams roosted  in  the  cellar;  owls  had  possession  of  the  bed- 
room; and  specimens  of  all  the  smaller  fry  of  birds  chirruped 
and  twittered  in  the  shop.  The  staircase  was  sacred  to  rab- 
bits. There  in  hutches  of  all  shapes  and  kinds,  made  from 
old  packing-cases,  boxes,  drawers,  and  tea-chests,  they 
increased  in  a  prodigious  degree,  and  contributed  their  share 
toward  that  complicated  whiff  which,  quite  impartially,  and 
without  distinction  of  person,  saluted  every  nose  that  was 
put  into  Sweedlepipe's  easy  shaving-shop. 

Many  noses  found  their  way  there,  for  all  that,  especially 
on  Sunday  morning,  before  church-time.  Even  archbishops 
shave,  or  must  be  shaved,  on  a  Sunday,  and  beards  7^////  grow 
after  twelve  o'clock  on  Saturday  night,  though  it  be  upon 
the  chins  of  base  mechanics;  who,  not  being  able  to  engage 
their  valets  by  the  quarter,  hire  them  by  the  job,  and  pay 
them — oh,  the  wickedness  of  copper  coin! — in  dirty  pence. 
Poll  Svveedlepipe,  the  sinner,  sliaved  all  comers  at  a  penny 
each,  and  cut  the  hair  of  any  customer  for  twopence;  and 
being  a  lone,  unmarried  man,  and  having  some  connection 
in  the  bird  line,  Poll  got  on  tolerably  well. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  421 

He  was  a  little  elderly  man,  with  a  clammy  cold  right 
hand,  from  which  even  rabbits  and  birds  could  not  remove 
the  smell  of  shaving-soap.  Poll  had  something  of  the  bird 
in  his  nature;  not  of  the  hawk  or  eagle,  but  of  the  sparrow, 
that  builds  in  chimney-stacks,  and  inclines  to  human  company. 
He  was  not  quarrelsome,  though,  like  the  sparrow;  but  peace- 
ful, like  the  dove.  In  his  walk  he  strutted;  and  in  this  respect, 
he  bore  a  faint  resemblance  to  the  pigeon,  as  well  as  in  a 
certain  prosiness  of  speech,  which  might,  in  its  monotony,  be 
likened  to  the  cooing  of  that  bird.  He  was  very  inquisitive; 
and  when  he  stood  at  his  shop  door  in  the  evening-tide, 
watching  the  neighbors,  with  his  head  on  one  side,  and  his 
eye  cocked  knowingly,  there  was  a  dash  of  the  raven  in  him. 
Yet,  there  was  no  more  wickedness  in  Poll  than  in  a  robin. 
Happily,  too,  when  any  of  his  ornithological  properties  were 
on  the  verge  of  going  too  far,  they  were  quenched,  dissolved, 
melted  down,  and  neutralized  in  the  barber;  just  as  his  bald 
head — otherwise,  as  the  head  of  a  shaved  magpie — lost  itself 
in  a  wig  of  curly  black  ringlets,  parted  on  one  side,  and  cut 
away  almost  to  the  crown,  to  indicate  immense  capacity  of 
intellect. 

Poll  had  a  very  small,  shrill,  treble  voice,  which  might 
have  led  the  wags  of  Kingsgate  Street  to  insist  the  more  upon 
his  feminine  designation.  He  had  a  tender  heart,  too;  for, 
when  he  had  a  good  commission  to  provide  three  or  four  score 
sparrows  for  a  shooting-match,  he  would  observe,  in  a  com- 
passionate tone,  how  singular  it  was  that  sparrows  should  have 
been  made  expressly  for  such  purposes.  The  question,  whether 
men  were  made  to  shoot  them,  never  entered  into  Poll's  phi- 
losophy. 

Poll  wore  in  his  sporting  character,  a  velveteen  coat,  a  great 
deal  of  blue  stocking,  ankle  boots,  a  neckerchief  of  some  bright 
color,  and  a  very  tall  hat.  Pursuing  his  more  quiet  occupation 
of  barber,  he  generally  subsided  into  an  apron  not  over-clean, 
a  flannel  jacket,  and  corduroy  knee-shorts.  It  was  in  this 
latter  costume,  but  with  his  apron  girded  round  his  waist,  as 
a  token  of  his  having  shut  up  shop  for  the  night,  that  he  closed 
the  door  one  evening,  some  weeks  after  the  occurrences 
detailed  in  the  last  chapter,  and  stood  upon  the  steps  in 
Kingsgate  Street,  listening  until  the  little  cracked  bell  within 
should  leave  off  ringing.  For,  until  it  did — this  was  Mr. 
Sweedlepipe's  reflection — the  place  never  seemed  quiet 
enough  to  be  left  to  itself. 

"  It's  the  greediest  little  bell  to  ring,"  said  Poll,  "  that  ever 
was.     But  it's  quiet  at  last." 


422  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 

He  roiled  his  apron  up  a  little  tighter  as  he  said  these 
words,  and  hastened  down  the  street.  Just  as  he  was 
turning  into  Holborn,  he  ran  against  a  young  gentleman  in 
a  livery.  This  youth  was  bold,  though  small,  and  with 
several  lively  expressions  of  displeasure,  turned  upon  him 
instantly. 

"  Now,  Stoo-pid!  "  cried  the  young  gentleman.  ''  Can't  you 
look  where  you're  a-going  to — eh?  Can't  you  mind  where 
you're  a-coming  to — eh?  What  do  you  think  your  eyes  was 
made  for — eh?    Ah!     Yes.     Oh!     Now  then!" 

The  young  gentleman  pronounced  the  two  last  words  in  a 
very  loud  tone  and  with  frightful  emphasis,  as  though  they 
contained  within  themselves  the  essence  of  the  direst  aggra- 
vation. But  he  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  his  anger  yielded 
to  surprise,  and  he  cried,  in  a  milder  tone: 

"What!     Polly!" 

"  Why  it  ain't  you,  sure!  "  cried  Poll.  "  It  can't  be  you!  " 

"  No.  It  ain't  me,"  returned  the  youth.  "  It's  my  son,  my 
oldest  one.  He's  a  credit  to  his  father,  ain't  he,  Polly  ?  " 
With  this  delicate  little  piece  of  banter  he  halted  on  the  ])ave- 
ment,  and  went  round  and  round  in  circles,  for  the  better 
exhibition  of  his  figure,  rather  to  the  inconvenience  of  the 
passengers  generally,  who  were  not  in  an  equal  state  of  spirits 
with  himself. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,"  said  Poll.  ''What  !  You've 
left  your  old  place,  then  ?     Have  you  ?  " 

"  Have  I  ! "  returned  his  young  friend,  who  had  by  this 
time  stuck  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  v/hite  cord 
breeches,  and  was  swaggering  along  at  the  barber's  side. 
D'ye  know  a  pair  of  top-boots  when  you  see  'em,  Polly  ?  Look 
here  !  " 

"  Beau-ti-ful  !  "  cried  Mr.  Sweedlepipe. 

"  D'ye  know  a  slap-up  sort  of  button,  when  you  see  it  ? " 
said  the  youth.  "  i  )on't  look  at  mine,  if  you  ain't  a  judge, 
because  these  lions'  heads  was  made  for  men  of  taste,  not 
snobs." 

"  Beautiful !  "  cried  the  barber  again.  "  A  grass-green 
frock-coat,  too,  bound  with  gold  !  And  a  cockade  in  your 
hat  !  " 

"  /  should  hope  so,"  replied  the  youth.  "  Blow  the  cock- 
ade, though  ;  for,  except  that  it  don't  turn  round,  it's  like 
the  wentilator  that  used  to  be  in  the  kitchen  winder  at  Tod- 
gers's.  You  ain't  seen  tne  old  lady's  name  in  the  Gazette, 
have  you  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  423 

"  No,"  returned  the  barber.     "  Is  she  a  bankrupt  ?  " 
"  If  she  am't,  she  will  be,"  retorted  Bailey.     ''  That  bis'> 
ness  never  can  be  carried  on  without  me.     Well  !     How  are 
you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I'm  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.  "  Are  you  living  at  this 
end  of  the  town,  or  were  you  coming  to  see  me  1  Was  that 
the  bis'ness  that  brought  you  to  Ilolborn  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  got  no  bis'ness  in  Holborn,"  returned  Bailey, 
with  some  displeasure.  "  Ail  my  bis'ness  lays  at  the  West- 
end.  I've  got  the  right  sort  of  governor  now.  You  can't  see 
his  face  for  his  whiskers,  and  can't  see  his  whiskers  for  the 
dye  upon  'em.  That's  a  gentleman,  ain't  it  ?  You  wouldn't 
like  a  ride  in  a  cab,  would  you  ?  Why,  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to 
oifer  it.  You'd  faint  away;  only  to  see  me  a  comin'  at  a 
mild  trot  round  the  corner." 

To  convey  a  slight  idea  of  the  effect  of  this  approach,  Mr. 
Bailey  counterfeited  in  his  own  person  the  action  of  a  high- 
trotting  horse,  and  threw  up  his  head  so  high,  in  backing 
against  a  pump,  that  he  shook  his  hat  off. 

"  Why,  he's  own  uncle  to  Capricorn,"  said  Bailey,  "  and 
brother  to  Cauliflower.  He's  been  through  the  winders  of 
two  chaney  shops  since  we've  had  him,  and  wos  sold  for 
killin'  his  missis.     That's  a  horse,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  you  will  never  want  to  buy  any  more  red-polls, 
now,"  observed  Poll,  looking  on  his  young  friend  with  an  air 
of  melancholy.  "  You'll  never  want  to  buy  any  more  red-polls 
now,  to  hangup  over  the  sink,  will  you  ?  " 

"  /  should  think  not,"  replied  Bailey.  *'  Reether  so.  I 
wouldn't  have  nothin'  to  say  to  any  bird  below  the  peacock; 
and  //^'d  be  wulgar.     Well,  how  are  you  ? " 

"Oh  !  I'm  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.  He  answered  the 
question  again  because  Mr.  Bailey  asked  it  again  ;  Mr. 
Bailey  asked  it  again,  because — accompanied  with  a  strad- 
dling action  of  the  white  cords,  a  bend  of  the  knees,  and  a 
striking-forth  of  the  top-boots — it  was  an  easy,  horse-fleshy, 
turfy  sort  of  thing  to  do. 

*'  Wot  are  you  up  to,  old  feller  ? "  asked  Mr.  Bailey,  with 
the  same  graceful  rakishness.  He  was  quite  the  man-about- 
town  of  the  conversation,  while  the  easy-shaver  was  the 
child. 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  fetch  my  lodger  home,"  said  Paul. 

"  A  woman  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  ''  for  a  twenty-pun' 
note  !  " 

The  little  barber  hastened  to  explain  that  she  was  neither 


424  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

a  young  woman,  nor  a  handsome  woman,  but  a  nurse,  who 
had  been  acting  as  a  kind  of  housekeeper  to  a  gentleman  for 
some  weeks  past,  and  left  her  place  that  night,  in  conse- 
quence of  being  superseded  by  another  and  a  more  legiti- 
mate housekeeper  :  to  wit,  the  gentleman's  bride. 

"  He's  newly-married,  and  he  brings  his  young  wife  home 
to-night,"  said  the  barber.  "  So  I'm  going  to  fetch  my  lodger 
away — Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  close  behind  the  post-office — and 
carry  her  box  for  her." 

"  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  ?  "  said  Bailey. 

'' Ah  !"  returned  Paul;  "that's  the  name  sure  enough. 
Do  you  know  him  !  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey  ;  "not  at  all.  And  I  don't 
know  her  !  Not  neither  !  Why,  they  first  kept  company 
through  me,  a'most." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  Paul. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  a  wink  ;  "  and  she  ain't  bad- 
looking,  mind  you.  But  her  sister  was  the  best.  She  was 
the  merry  one.  I  often  used  to  have  a  bit  of  fun  wuth  her, 
in  the  hold  times  !  " 

Mr.  Bailey  spoke  as  if  he  already  had  a  leg  and  three- 
quarters  in  the  grave,  and  this  had  happened  twenty  or 
thirty  years  ago.  Paul  Sweedlepipe,  the  meek,  was  so  per- 
fectly confounded  by  his  precocious  self-possession,  and  hie 
patronizing  manner,  as  well  as  by  his  boots,  cockade,  and 
livery,  that  a  mist  swam  before  his  eyes,  and  he  saw — not  the 
Bailey,  of  acknowledged  juvenility,  from  Todgers's  commer- 
cial boarding  house,  who  had  made  his  acquaintance  within 
a  twelvemonth,  by  purchasing,  at  sundry  times,  small 
birds  at  two  pence  each — but  a  highly  condensed  embodi- 
ment of  all  the  sporting  grooms  in  London;  an  abstract  of  all 
the  stable  knowledge  of  the  time,  a  something  at  a  high  pres- 
sure that  r-iust  have  had  existence  many  years,  and  was 
fraught  with  terrible  experiences.  And  truly,  though  in  the 
cloudy  atmosphere  of  Todgers's,  Mr.  Bailey's  genius  had 
ever  shone  out  brightly  in  this  particular  respect,  it  now 
eclipsed  both  time  and  space,  cheated  beholders  of  their 
senses,  and  worked  on  their  belief  in  defiance  of  all 
natural  laws.  He  walked  along  the  tangible  and  real  stones 
of  Holborn  Hill,  an  under-sized  boy;  and  yet  he  winked  the 
winks,  and  thought  the  thoughts,  and  did  the  deeds,  and  said 
the  sayings  of  an  ancient  man.  There  was  an  old  principle 
within  him,  and  a  young  surface  without.  He  became  an 
inexplicable  creature;  a  breeched  and  booted  sphinx.    There 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  425 

was  no  course  open  to  the  barber  but  to  go  distracted  himself, 
or  to  take  Bailey  for  granted  ;  and  he  wisely  chose  the  latter. 

Mr.  Bailey  was  good  enough  to  continue  to  bear  him  com- 
pany, and  to  entertain  him,  as  they  went,  with  easy  conversa- 
tion on' various  sporting  topics  ;  especially  on  the  compara- 
tive merits,  as  a  general  principle,  of  horses  with  white  stock- 
ings, and  horses  without.  In  regard  to  the  style  of  tail  to  be 
preferred,  Mr.  Bailey  had  opinions  of  his  own,  which  he 
explained,  but  begged  they  might  by  no  means  influence  his 
friends,  as  here  he  knew  he  had  the  misfortune  to  differ  from 
some  excellent  authorities.  He  treated  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  to 
a  dram,  compounded  agreeably  to  his  own  directions,  which 
he  informed  him  had  been  invented  by  a  member  of  the  jockey 
club;  and,  as  they  were  by  this  time  near  the  barber's  desti- 
nation, he  observed  that,  as  he  had  an  hour  to  spare,  and 
knew  the  parties,  he  would,  if  quite  agreeable,  be  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Gamp. 

Paul  knocked  at  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's;  and,  on  the  door 
being  opened  by  that  lady,  made  the  two  distinguished  per- 
sons known  to  one  another.  It  was  a  happy  feature  in  Mrs. 
Gamp's  twofold  profession,  that  it  gave  her  an  interest  in 
every  thing  that  was  young  as  well  as  in  every  thing  that  was 
old.     She  received  Mr.  Bailey  with  much  kindness. 

"  It's  very  good,  I'm  sure,  of  you  to  come,"  she  said  to  her 
landlord,  ''  as  well  as  bring  so  nice  a  friend.  But  I'm  afraid 
that  I  must  trouble  you  so  far  as  to  step  in,  for  the  young 
couple  has  not  yet  made  appearance." 

"  They're  late,  ain't  they  ?  "  inquired  her  landlord,  when 
she  had  conducted  them  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen. 

**  Well,  sir,  considering  the  wings  of  love,  they  are,"  said 
Mrs.  Gamp. 

Mr.  Bailey  inquired  whether  the  wings  of  love  had  ever 
won  a  plate,  or  could  be  backed  to  do  any  thing  remarkable; 
and  being  informed  that  it  was  not  a  horse,  but  merely  a 
poetical  or  figurative  expression, evinced  considerable  disgust. 
Mrs.  Gamp  was  so  very  much  astonished  by  his  affable 
manners  and  great  ease,  that  she  was  about  to  propound  to 
her  landlord  in  a  whisper  the  staggering  inquiry,  whether  he 
was  a  man  or  a  boy,  when  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  anticipating  her 
design,  made  a  timely  diversion. 

"  He  knows  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Paul  aloud. 

'^  There's  nothin'  he  don't  know ;  that's  my  opinion," 
observed  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  AU  tht?  wickedness  of  the  world  i§ 
print  to  him/' 


426  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Bailey  received  this  as  a  compliment,  and  said,  adjust- 
ing his  cravat,  "  reether  so." 

"  As  you  knows  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  you  knows,  p'raps,  what 
her  chris'n  name  is  ?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  observed. 

"Charity,"  said  Bailey. 

"  That  it  ain't,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"Cherry,  then,"  said  Bailey.  "Cherry's  short  for  it.  It's 
all  the  same." 

"  It  don't  begin  with  a  C  at  all,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp, 
shaking  her  head.     "  It  begins  with  a  M." 

"  Whew  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  slapping  a  little  cloud  of  pipe- 
clay out  of  his  left  leg,  "then  he's  been  and  married  the  merry 
one  !  " 

As  these  words  were  mysterious,  Mrs.  Gamp  called  upon 
him  to  explain,  which  Mr.  Bailey  proceeded  to  do,  that  lady 
listening  greedily  to  every  thing  he  said.  He  was  yet  in  the 
fullness  of  his  narrative  when  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  a 
double  knock  at  the  street  door,  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
newly-married  couple.  Begging  him  to  reserve  what  more 
he  had  to  say,  for  her  hearing  on  the  way  home,  Mrs.  Gamp 
took  up  the  candle,  and  hurried  away  to  receive  and  wel- 
come the  young  mistress  of  the  house. 

"  Wishing  you  appiness  and  joy  with  all  my  art,"  said 
Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  a  courtesy  as  they  entered  the  hall  ; 
"  and  you  too,  sir.  Your  lady  looks  a  little  tired  with  the 
journey,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  a  pretty  dear  !  " 

"  She  has  bothered  enough  about  it,"  grumbled  Mr.  Jonas, 
"  Now,  show  a  light,  will  you  ?  " 

"  This  way,  ma'am,  if  you  please,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  going 
up  stairs  before  them.  "  Things  has  been  made  as  comfort- 
able as  they  could  be  ;  but  there's  many  things  you'll  have 
to  alter  your  own  self  when  you  gets  time  to  look  about 
you.  Ah  !  sweet  thing  !  But  you  don't,"  added  Mrs. 
Gamp,  internally,  "  you  don't  look  much  like  a  merry  one, 
I  must  say  !  " 

It  was  true;  she  did  not.  The  death  that  had  gone  before 
the  bridal  seemed  to  have  left  its  shade  upon  the  house. 
The  air  was  heavy  and  oppressive  ;  the  rooms  were  dark;  a 
deep  gloom  filled  up  every  chink  and  corner.  Upon  the 
hearthstone,  like  a  creature  of  ill-omen,  sat  the  aged  clerk, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  some  withered  branches  in  the  stove. 
He  rose  and  looked  at  her. 

"  So  there  you  are,  Mr.  Chuff,"  said  Jonas  carelessly,  as 
J]^  dusted  his  bootsj  "  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  eh  ?  " 


Martin  chuzzlewiT.  427 

"  Still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  sir/'  returned  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  And  Mr.  Chuffey  may  thank  you  for  it,  as  many  and  many 
a  time  I've  told  him." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  not  in  the  best  of  humors,  for  he  merely  said, 
as  he  looked  round,  "  We  don't  want  you  any  more,  you 
know,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  I'm  a-going  immediate,  sir,"  returned  the  nurse  ; 
"  unless  there's  nothink  I  can  do  for  you,  ma'am.  Ain't 
there,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  look  of  great  sweetness,  and 
rummaging  all  the  time  in  her  pocket ;  "  ain't  there  nothink 
I  can  do  for  you,  my  little  bird  !  " 

'*  No,"  said  Merry,  almost  crying.  "  You  had  better  go 
away,  please  !  " 

With  a  leer  of  mingled  sweetness  and  slyness  ;  with  one 
eye  on  the  future,  one  on  the  bride,  and  an  arch  expres- 
sion in  her  face,  partly  spiritual,  partly  spirituous,  and 
wholly  professional  and  peculiar  to  her  art,  Mrs.  Gamp 
rummaged  in  her  pocket  again,  and  took  from  it  a  printed 
card,  whereon  was  an  inscription  copied  from  her  signboard. 

"  Would  you  be  so  good,  my  darling  dovey  of  a  dear 
young  married  lady,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  as  put  that  somewheres  where  you  can  keep  it  in  your 
mind  ?  I'm  well  beknown  to  many  ladies,  and  it's  my  card. 
Gamp  is  my  name,  and  Gamp  my  nater.  Livin*  quite 
handy,  I  will  make  so  bold  as  call  in  now  and  then,  and 
make  inquiry  how  your  health  and  spirits  is,  my  precious 
chick  !  " 

And  with  innumerable  leers,  winks,  coughs,  nods,  smiles, 
and  courtesies,  all  leading  to  the  establishment  of  a  myste- 
rious and  confidential  understanding  between  herself  and  the 
bride,  Mrs.  Gamp,  invoking  a  blessing  upon  the  house,  leered, 
winked,  coughed,  nodded,  smiled,  and  courtesied  herself  out 
of  the  room. 

''  But  I  will  say,  and  I  would  if  I  was  led  a  Martha  to  the 
stakes  for  it,"  Mrs.  Gamp  remarked  below  stairs,  in  a  whis- 
per, "  that  she  don't  look  much  like  a  merry  one  at  this  pres- 
ent m.oment  of  time."^ 

*'  Ah  !  wait  till-  you  hear  her  laugh  !  "  said   Bailey. 

"  Hem  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  kind  of  groan.  "  I  will, 
child." 

They  said  no  more  in  the  house,  for  Mrs.  Gamp  put  on 
her  bonnet,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  took  up  her  box,  and  Mr.  Bailey 
accompanied  them  toward  Kingsgate  Street,  recounting  to 
Mrs.  Gamp  as  they  went  along,  the  origin  and  progress  of  his 


428  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit  and  her  sister.  It  was  a 
pleasant  instance  of  this  youth's  precocity,  that  he  fancied 
Mrs.  Gamp  had  conceived  a  tenderness  for  him,  and  was 
much  tickled  by  her  misplaced  attachment. 

As  the  door  closed  heavily  behind  them  Mrs.  Jonas  sat 
down  in  a  chair,  and  felt  a  strange  chill  creep  upon  her, 
while  she  looked  about  the  room.  It  was  pretty  much  as 
she  had  known  it,  but  appeared  more  dreary.  She  had 
thought  to  see  it  brightened  to  receive  her. 

''  It  ain't  good  enough  for  you,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Jonas, 
watching  her  looks. 

*'  Why,  it /.f  dull,"  said  Merry,  trying  to  be  more  herself. 

"  It'll  be  duller  before  you're  done  with  it,"  retorted  Jonas, 
^'  if  you  give  me  any  of  your  airs.  You're  a  nice  article  to 
turn  sulky  on  first  coming  home  !  Ecod,  you  used  to  have 
lif  eenough,  when  you  could  plague  me  with  it.  The  gal's 
down  stairs.  Ring  the  bell  for  supper,  while  I  take  my  boots 
off  !" 

She  roused  herself  from  looking  after  him  as  he  left  the 
room,  to  do  what  he  had  desired,  when  the  old  man  Chuffey 
laid  his  hand  softly  on  her  arm. 

"  You  are  not  married  ?  "  he  said,  eagerly.  "  Not  married  ? " 

"  Yes.    A  month  ago.    Good  Heaven,  what  is  the  matter  ? " 

He  answered  nothing  was  the  matter;  and  turned  from 
her.  But  in  her  fear  and  wonder,  turning  also,  she  saw  him 
raise  his  trembling  hands  above  his  head,  and  heard  him  say: 

*'  Oh!  woe,  woe,  woe,  upon  this  wicked  house!  " 

It  was  her  welcome — Home. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SHOWING  THAT  OLD  FRIENDS  MAY  NOT  ONLY  APPEAR  WITH 
NEW  FACES,  BUT  IN  FALSE  COLORS.  THAT  PEOPLE  ARE 
PRONE  TO  BITE,  AND  THAT  BITERS  MAY  SOMETIMES  BE 
BITTEN. 

Mr.  Bailey,  Junior — for  the  sporting  character,  whilom 
of  general  utility  at  Todgers's,  had  now  regularly  set  up  in 
life  under  that  name,  without  troubling  himself  to  obtain 
from  the  legislature  a  direct  license  in  the  form  of  a  private 
bill,  which  of  all  kinds  and  classes  of  bills  is  without  excep- 
tion the  most  unreasonable  in  its  charges — Mr.  Ikiiley,  Junior, 
just    tall  enough  to   be    seen  by  an  inquiring  eye,   gazing 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  429 

indolently  at  society  from  beneath  the  apron  of  his  master's 
cab,  drove  slowly  up  and  down  Pall  Mall  about  the  hour  of 
noon,  in  waiting  for  his  "  governor."  The  horse  of  distin- 
guished family,  who  had  Capricorn  for  his  nephew,  and 
Cauliflower  for  his  brother,  showed  himself  worthy  of  his 
high  relations  by  champing  at  the  bit  until  his  chest  was 
white  with  foam,  and  rearing  like  a  horse  in  heraldry;  the 
plated  harness  and  the  patent  leather  glittered  in  the  sun; 
pedestrians  admired;  Mr.  Bailey  was  complacent,  but 
unmoved.  He  seemed  to  say,  "  A  barrow,  good  people,  a 
mere  barrow;  nothing  to  what  we  could  do,  if  we  chose!  " 
and  on  he  went,  squaring  his  short  green  arms  outside  the 
apron,  as  if  he  Avere  hooked  on  to  it  by  his  armpits. 

Mr.  Bailey  had  a  great  opinion  of  brother  to  Cauliflower, 
and  estimated  his  powers  highly.  But  he  never  told  him  so. 
On  the  contrary,  it  was  his  practice,  in  driving  that  animal, 
to  assail  him  with  disrespectful,  if  not  injurious  expressions, 
as,  *' Ah!  would  you!  "  "  Did  you  think  it,  then?  "  "Where 
are  you  going  to  now?"  '*  No  you  won't,  my  lad!  "  and 
similar  fragmentary  remarks.  These  being  usually  accom- 
panied by  a  jerk  of  the  rein,  or  a  crack  of  the  whip,  led  to 
many  trials  of  strength  between  them,  and  to  many  conten- 
tions for  the  upper  hand,  terminating  now  and  then  in  china 
shops,  and  other  unusual  goals,  as  Mr.  Bailey  had  already 
hinted  to  his  friend  Poll  Sweedlepipe. 

On  the  present  occasion  Mr.  Bailey,  being  in  spirits,  was 
more  than  commonly  hard  upon  his  charge;  in  consequence 
of  which  that  fiery  animal  confined  himself  almost  entirely 
to  his  hind  legs  in  displaying  his  paces,  and  constantly  got 
himself  into  positions  with  reference  to  the  cabriolet  that 
very  much  amazed  the  passengers  in  the  street.  But  Mr. 
Bailey,  not  at  all  disturbed,  had  still  a  shower  of  pleasant- 
ries to  bestow  on  any  one  who  crossed  his  path;  as,  calling 
to  a  full-grown  coalheaver  in  a  wagon,  who  for  a  moment 
blocked  the  way,  "  Now,  young  'un,  who  trusted  you  with  a 
cart? "  inquiring  of  elderly  ladies  who  wanted  to  cross,  and 
ran  back  again,  "  Why  they  didn't  go  to  the  workhouse 
and  get  an  order  to  be  buried?  "  tempting  boys  with  friendly 
words,  to  get  up  behind,  and  immediately  afterward  cut- 
ting them  down;  and  the  like  flashes  of  a  cheerful  humor, 
which  he  would  occasionally  relieve  by  going  round  St. 
James's  Square  at  a  hand  gallop,  and  coming  slowly  into 
Pall  Mall  by  another  entry,  as  if,  in  the  interval,  his  pace 
had  been  a  perfect  crawl. 


430  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

It  was  not  until  these  amusements  had  been  very  often 
repeated,  and  the  apple-stall  at  the  corner  had  sustained  so 
many  miraculous  escapes  as  to  appear  impregnable,  that  Mr. 
Bailey  was  summoned  to  the  door  of  a  certain  house  in  Pall 
Mall,  and  turning  short,  obeyed  the  call  and  jumped  out.  It 
was  not  until  he  had  held  the  bridle  for  some  minutes  longer 
— every  jerk  of  Cauliflower's  brother's  head,  and  every  twitch 
of  Cauliflower's  brother's  nostril,  taking  him  off  his  legs  in  the 
meanvv'hile — that  two  persons  entered  the  vehicle,  one  of 
whom  took  the  reins  and  drove  rapidly  off.  Nor  was  it  until 
Mr.  Bailey  had  run  after  it  some  hundreds  of  yards  in  vain 
that  he  managed  to  lift  his  short  leg  into  the  iron  step,  and 
finally  to  get  his  boots  upon  the  little  footboard  behind. 
Then,  indeed,  he  became  a  sight  to  see,  and — standing  now 
on  one  foot  and  now  upon  the  other,  now  trying  to  look 
round  the  cab  on  this  side,  now  on  that,  and  now  endeavor- 
ing to  peep  over  the  top  of  it,  as  it  went  dashing  in  among 
the  carts  and  coaches — was  from  head  to  heel  Newmarket. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Bailey's  governor  as  he  drove 
along,  fully  justified  that  enthusiastic  youth's  description  of 
him  to  the  wondering  Poll.  He  had  a  world  of  jet-black 
shining  hair  upon  his  head,  upon  his  cheeks,  upon  his  chin, 
upon  his  upper  lip.  His  clothes,  symmetrically  made,  were 
of  the  newest  fashion  and  costliest  kind.  Flowers  of  gold 
and  blue,  and  green  and  blushing  red,  were  on  his  waistcoat; 
precious  chains  and  jewels  sparkled  on  his  breast;  his  fingers, 
clogged  with  brilliant  rings,  were  as  unwieldy  as  summer 
flies  but  newly  rescued  from  a  honey-pot.  The  daylight 
mantled  in  his  gleaming  hat  and  boots  as  in  a  polished 
glass.  And  yet  though  changed  his  name,  and  changed  his 
outward  surface,  it  was  Tigg.  Though  turned  and  twisted 
upside  dov/n,  and  inside  out,  as  great  men  have  been  some- 
times known  to  be;  though  no  longer  Montague  Tigg,  but 
Tigg  Montague;  still  it  was  Tigg;  the  same  Satanic,  gallant, 
military  Tigg.  The  brass  was  burnished,  lacquered,  newly 
stamped;  yet  it  was  the  true  Tigg  metal  notwithstanding. 

Beside  him  sat  a  smiling  gentleman  of  less  pretentions  and 
of  business  looks,  whom  he  addressed  as  David.  Surely  not 
the  David  of  the — how  shall  it  be  phrased  ? — the  triumvirate 
of  golden  balls  ?  Not  David,  tapster  of  the  Lombards's 
arms  ?     Yes.     The  very  man, 

"  The  secretary's  salary,  David,"  said  Mr.  Montague, 
"the  office  being  now  established,  is  eight  hundred  pounds 
per  annum,  with  his   house-rent,   coals,   and    candles    free. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  431 

His  five-and-twenty    shares    he    holds,    of  course.     Is  that 
enough  ? " 

David  smiled  and  nodded,  and  coughed  behind  a  little 
locked  portfolio  which  he  carried  with  an  air  that  proclaimed 
him  to  be  the  secretary  in  question. 

"If  that's  enough,"  said  Montague,  "I  will  propose  it  at 
the  board  to-day,  in  my  capacity  as  chairman." 

The  secretary  smiled  again;  laughed,  indeed,  this  time; 
and  said,  rubbing  his  nose  slyly  with  one  end  of  the  port^ 
folio: 

"  It  was  a  capital  thought,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"What  was  a  capital  thought,  David  ?  "  Mr.  Montague 
inquired. 

"  The  Anglo-Bengalee,"  tittered  the  secretary. 

"  The  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assur- 
ance Company  is  rather  a  capital  concern,  I  hope,  David," 
said  Montague. 

"  Capital,  indeed!  "  cried  the  secretary,  with  another  laugh 
— "  in  one  sense." 

■*  In  the  only  important  one,"  observed  the  chairman; 
"which  is  number  one,  David." 

"  What,"  asked  the  secretary,  bursting  into  another  laugh, 
"what  will  be  the  paid-up  capital,  according  to  the  next 
prospectus  ?  " 

"A  figure  of  two,  and  as  many  oughts  after  it  as  the  printei 
can  get  into  the  same  line,"  replied  his  friend.     "  Ha,  ha!  " 

At  this  they  both  laughed;  the  secretary  so  vehemently 
that,  in  kicking  up  his  feet,  he  kicked  the  apron  open,  and 
nearly  started  Cauliflower's  brother  into  an  oyster-shop;  not 
to  mention  Mr.  Bailey's  receiving  such  a  sudden  swing  that 
he  held  on  for  a  moment,  quite  a  young  Fame,  by  one  strap 
and  no  legs. 

"  What  a  chap  you  are!  "  exclaimed  David,  admiringly, 
when  this  little  alarm  had  subsided. 

"  Say  genius,  David,  genius." 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul  you  are  a  genius,  then."  said  David. 
"  I  always  knew  you  had  the  gift  of  the  gab,  of  course;  but 
I  never  believed  you  were  half  the  man  you  are.  How 
could  I  ?  " 

"  I  rise  with  circumstances,  David.  That's  a  point  of 
genius  in  itself,"  said  Tigg.  "  If  you  were  to  lose  a  hun- 
dred pound  wager  to  me  at  this  minute,  David,  and  were  to 
pay  it  (which  is  most  confoundedly  improbable),  I  should 
rise,  in  a  mental  point  of  view,  directly." 


432  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

It  is  due  to  Mr.  Tigg  to  say  that  he  had  really  risen  with 
his  opportunities;  and  peculating  on  a  grander  scale,  he  had 
become  a  grander  man  altogether. 

"  Ha,  ha!  "  cried  the  secretary,  laying  his  hand,  with  grow- 
ing familiarity,  upon  the  chairman's  arm.  ''When  I  look  at 
you,  and  think  of  your  property  in  Bengal  being — ha,  ha, 
ha—" 

The  half-expressed  idea  seemed  no  less  ludicrous  to  Mr. 
Tigg  than  to  his  friend,  for  he  laughed,  too,  heartily. 

" — Being,"  resumed  David,  "  being  amenable — your  prop- 
erty in  Bengal  being  amenable — to  all  claims  upon  the  com- 
pany; when  I  look  at  you  and  think  of  that,  you  might  tickle 
me  into  fits  by  waving  the  feather  of  a  pen  at  me.  Upon 
my  soul  you  might!  " 

"  It's  a  devilish  fine  property,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "to 
be  amenable  to  any  claims.  The  preserve  of  tigers  alone  is 
worth  a  mint  of  money,  David." 

David  could  only  reply  in  the  intervals  of  his  laughter. 
"  Oh,  what  a  chap  you  are  !  "  and  so  continued  to  laugh, 
and  hold  his  sides,  and  wipe  his  eyes,  for  some  time,  without 
offering  any  other  observation. 

"A  capital  idea?"  said  Tigg,  returning  after  a  time  to 
his  companion's  first  remark  ;  "  no  doubt  it  was  a  capital 
idea.     It  was  my  idea," 

"  No,  no.  It  was  my  idea,"  said  David.  "  Hang  it,  let  a 
man  have  some  credit.  Didn't  I  say  to  you  that  I'd  saved  a 
few  pounds  ? — " 

"  You  said  !  Didn't  I  say  to  you,"  interposed  Tigg,  "  that 
/  had  come  into  a  few  pounds  !  " 

"  Certainly  you  did,"  returned  David,  warmly,  "  but  that's 
not  the  idea.  Who  said,  that  if  we  put  the  money  together 
we  could  furnish  an  office,  and  make  a  show  ?" 

"And  who  said,"  retorted  Mr.  Tigg,  "that,  provided  we 
did  it  on  a  sufficiently  large  scale,  we  could  furnish  an  office 
and  make  a  show,  without  any  money  at  all  ?  Be  rational, 
and  just,  and  calm,  and  tell  me  whose  idea  was  that  ?" 

"  Why  there,"  David  was  obliged  to  confess,  "  you  had  the 
advantage  of  me,  I  admit.  But  I  don't  put  myself  on  a 
level  with  you.  I  only  want  a  little  credit  in  the  busi- 
ness." 

"  All  the  credit  you  deserve  you  have,"  said  Tigg.  "  The 
plain  work  of  the  company,  David — figures,  books,  circulars, 
advertisements,  pen,  ink  and  paper,  sealing-wax  and  wafers — 
13  admirably  done  by  you.     You  are  a  first-rate  groveler.    I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWrr.  433 

don't  dispute  it.  But  the  ornamental  department,  David  ; 
the  inventive  and  poetical  department — " 

"Is  entirely  yours,"  said  his  friend.  "No  question  of  it. 
But  with  such  a  swell  turn-out  as  this,  and  all  the  handsome 
things  you've  get  about  you,  and  the  life  you  lead,  I  mean  to 
say  it's  a  precious  comfortable  department,  too." 

"  Does  it  gain  the  purpose  ?  Is  it  Anglo-Bengalee  ?  " 
asked  Tigg. 

"  Yes,"  said  David. 

"  Could  you  undertake  it  yourself  ?  "  demanded  Tigg. 

"  No,"  said  David. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Tigg.  "  Then  be  contented  with 
your  station  and  your  profits,  David,  my  fine  fellow,  and 
bless  the  day  that  made  us  acquainted  across  the  counter  of 
our  common  uncle,  for  it  was  a  golden  day  to  you." 

It  will  have  been  already  gathered  from  the  conversation 
of  these  worthies,  that  they  were  embarked  in  an  enterprise 
of  some  magnitude,  in  which  they  addressed  the  public  in 
general  from  the  strong  position  of  having  every  thing  to  gain 
and  nothing  at  all  to  lose  ;  and  which,  based  upon  this  great 
principle,  was  thriving  pretty  comfortably. 

The  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assur- 
ance Company,  started  into  existence  one  morning,  not  an 
infant  institution,  but  a  grown-up  company  running  along  at 
a  great  pace,  and  doing  business  right  and  left ;  with  a 
"  branch  "  in  the  first  floor  over  a  tailor's  at  the  west-end  of 
the  town,  and  main  offices  in  a  new  street  in  the  city,  com- 
prising the  upper  part  of  a  spacious  house,  resplendent  in 
stucco  and  plate-glass,  with  wire  blinds  in  all  the  windows, 
and  "Anglo-Bengalee  "  worked  into  the  pattern  of  everyone 
of  them.  On  the  door-post  was  painted  again  in  large  let- 
ters, "  Offices  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and 
Life  Assurance  Company,"  and  on  the  door  was  a  large 
brass  plate  with  the  same  inscription,  always  kept  very  bright, 
as  courting  inquiry  ;  staring  the  city  out  of  countenance 
after  office  hours  on  working  days,  and  all  day  long  on  Sun- 
days ;  and  looking  bolder  than  the  bank.  Within,  the 
offices  were  newly  plastered,  newly  painted,  newly  papered, 
newly  countered,  newly  floor-clothed,  newly  tabled,  newly 
chaired,  newly  fitted-up  in  every  way,  with  goods  that  were 
substantial  and  expensive,  and  designed  (like  the  company) 
to  last.  Business  !  Look  at  the  green  ledgers  with  red 
backs,  like  strong  cricket  balls  beaten  flat  ;  the  court-guides, 
directories,     day-books,    almanacs,    letter-boxes,    weighing 


434  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWlT. 

machines  for  letters,  rows  of  fire-buckets  for  dashing  out  a 
conflagration  in  its  first  spark,  and  saving  the  immense  wealth 
in  notes  and  bonds  belonging  to  the  company  ;  look  at  the 
iron  safes,  the  clock,  the  office  seal — in  its  capacious  self, 
security  for  any  thing.  Solidity !  Look  at  the  massive 
blocks  of  marble  in  the  chimney-pieces,  and  the  gorgeous 
parapet  on  the  top  of  the  house  !  Publicity  !  Why, 
Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assurance 
Company  is  painted  on  the  very  coal-scuttles.  It  is  repeated 
at  every  turn  until  the  eyes  are  dazzled  with  it,  and  the  head 
is  giddy.  It  is  engraved  upon  the  top  of  all  the  letter  paper, 
and  it  makes  a  scroll-work  round  the  seal,  and  it  shines  out 
of  the  porter's  buttons,  and  it  is  repeated  twenty  times  in 
every  circular  and  public  notice  wherein  one  David  Crimple, 
Esquire,  secretary  and  resident  director,  takes  the  liberty  of 
inviting  your  attention  to  the  accompanying  statement  of  the 
advantages  offered  by  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan 
and  Life  Assurance  Company;  and  fully  proves  to  you  that 
any  connection  on  your  part  with  that  establishment  must 
result  in  a  perpetual  Christmas  box  and  constantly  increasing 
bonus  to  yourself,  and  that  nobody  can  run  any  risk  by  the 
transaction  except  the  office,  which,  in  its  great  liberality,  is 
pretty  sure  to  lose.  And  this,  David  Crimple,  Esquire, 
submits  to  you  (and  the  odds  are  heavy  you  believe  him),  is 
the  best  guarantee  that  can  reasonably  be  suggested  by  the 
board  of  management  for  its  permanence  and  stability. 

This  gentleman's  name,  by  the  way,  has  been  originally 
Crimp;  but  as  the  word  was  susceptible  of  an  awkward  con- 
struction and  might  be  misrepresented,  he  had  altered  it  to 
Crimple. 

Lest  with  all  these  proofs  and  confirmations,  any  man 
should  be  suspicious  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested 
Loan  and  Life  Assurance  company  ;  should  doubt  in  tiger, 
cab,  or  person,  Tigg  Montague,  Esquire  (of  Pall  Mall  and 
Bengal)  or  any  other  name  in  the  imaginative  list  of 
directors  ;  there  was  a  porter  on  the  premises — a  wonderful 
creature,  in  a  vast  red  waistcoat  and  a  short-tailed  pepper- 
and-salt  coat — who  carried  more  conviction  to  the  minds  of 
skeptics  than  the  whole  establishment  without  him.  No  con- 
fidence existed  between  him  and  the  directorship  ;  nobody 
knew  where  he  had  served  last;  no  character  or  explanation 
had  been  given  or  recpiired.  No  questions  had  been  asked 
on  either  side.  This  mysterious  being,  relying  solely  on  his 
figure,  had  applied  for  the  situation,  and  had  been  instantly 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  435 

engaged  on  his  own  terms.  They  were  high;  but  he  knew, 
doubtless,  that  no  man  could  carry  such  an  extent  of  waist- 
coat as  himself,  and  felt  the  full  value  of  his  capacity  to  such 
an  institution.  When  he  sat  upon  a  seat  erected  for  him  in 
a  corner  of  the  office,  with  his  glazed  hat  hanging  on  a  peg 
over  his  head,  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  the  respectability  of 
the  concern.  It  went  on  doubling  itself  with  every  square 
inch  of  his  red  waistcoat  until,  like  the  problem  of  the  nails 
in  the  horse's  shoes,  the  total  became  enormous.  People 
had  been  known  to  apply  to  effect  an  insurance  on  their 
lives  for  a  thousand  pounds,  and  looking  at  him,  to  beg 
before  the  form  of  proposal  was  filled  up,  that  it  might  be 
made  two.  And  yet  he  was  not  a  giant.  His  coat  was 
rather  small  than  otherwise.  The  whole  charm  was  in  his 
waistcoat.  Respectability,  competence,  property  in  Bengal 
or  anywhere  else,  responsibility  to  any  amount  on  the  part 
of  the  company  that  employed  him,  were  all  expressed  in 
that  one  garment. 

Rival  officers  had  endeavored  to  lure  him  away;  Lombard 
Street  itself  had  beckoned  to  him  ;  rich  companies  had  whis- 
pered "  Be  a  beadle  !  "  but  still  he  continued  faithful  to  the 
Anglo-Bengalee.  Whether  he  Avas  a  deep  rogue,  or  a  stately 
simpleton,  it  was  impossible  to  make  out,  but  he  appeared  to 
believe  in  the  Anglo-Bengalee.  He  was  grave  with  imagi  • 
nary  cares  of  office;  and  having  nothing  whatever  to  do, 
and  something  less  to  take  care  of,  would  look  as  if  the  pres- 
sure of  his  numerous  duties,  and  a  sense  of  the  treasure  in 
the  company's  strong-room,  made  him  a  solemn  and  a 
thoughtful  man. 

As  the  cabriolet  drove  up  to  the  door,  this  officer  appeared 
bare-headed  on  the  pavement,  crying  aloud  ''  Room  for  the 
chairman,  room  for  the  chairman,  if  you  please  !  "  much  to 
the  admiration  of  the  bystanders,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
had  their  attention  directed  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee  company 
thenceforth,  by  that  means,  Mr.  Tigg  leaped  gracefully  out, 
followed  by  the  mana.ging  director  (who  v/as  by  this  time 
very  distant  and  respectful),  and  ascended  the  stairs,  still 
preceded  by  the  porter,  who  cried  as  he  went,  "  By  your 
leave  there  !  by  your  leave  !  The  chairman  of  the  board, 
gentle — men  !  "  In  like  manner,  but  in  a  still  more  sten- 
torian voice,  he  ushered  the  chairman  through  the  public 
office,  where  some  humble  clients  were  transacting  business, 
into  an  awful  chamber,  labeled  board-room,  the  door  of 
which  sanctuary  immediately  closed,  and  screened  the  greaiC 
capitalist  from  vulgar  eyes, 


436  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  board-room  had  a  Turkey  carpet  in  it,  a  sideboard, 
a  portrait  of  Tigg  Montague,  Esquire,  as  chairman;  a  very 
imposing  chair  of  office,  garnished  with  an  ivory  hammer 
and  a  little  hand-bell  ;  and  a  long  table,  set  out  at  intervals 
with  sheets  of  blotting  paper,  foolscap,  clean  pens,  and  ink- 
stands. The  chairman  having  taken  his  seat  with  great  sol- 
emnity, the  secretary  supported  him  on  his  right  hand,  and 
the  porter  stood  bolt  upright  behind  them,  forming  a  warm 
background  of  waistcoat.  This  was  the  board  :  every  thing 
a  light-hearted  little  fiction. 

"  Bullamy  !  "  said  Mr.  Tigg. 

"  Sir  !  "  replied  the  porter. 

^'Let  the  medical  officer  know,  with  my  compliments,  that 
I  wish  to  see  him." 

Bullamy  cleared  his  throat  and  bustled  out  into  the  office, 
crying:  "  The  chairman  of  the  board  wishes  to  see  the  med- 
ical officer.  By  your  leave  there!  By  your  leave!"  He 
soon  returned  with  the  gentleman  in  question;  and  at  both 
openings  of  the  board-room  door — at  his  coming  in  and  at 
his  going  out — simple  clients  were  seen  to  stretch  their  necks 
and  stand  upon  their  toes,  thirsting  to  catch  the  slightest 
glimpse  of  that  mysterious  chamber. 

"  Jobling,  my  dear  friend!  "  said  Mr.  Tigg,  ^'  how  are  you  ? 
Bullamy,  wait  outside.  Crimple,  don't  leave  us.  Jobling,  my 
good  fellow,  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

''And  how  are  you,  Mr.  Montague,  eh  ?  "  said  the  medical 
officer,  throwing  himself  luxuriously  into  an  easy-chair  (they 
were  all  easy-chairs  in  the  board-room),  and  taking  a  hand- 
some gold  snuff-box  from  the  pocket  of  his  black  satin  waist- 
coat. "  How  are  you  ?  A  little  worn  with  business,  eh  ?  If 
so,  rest.  A  little  feverish  from  wine,  humph  ?  If  so,  water. 
Nothing  at  all  the  matter,  and  quite  comfortable  ?  Then 
take  some  lunch.  A  very  wholesome  thing  at  this  time  of 
day  to  strengthen  the  gastric  juices  with  lunch,  Mr.  Mon- 
tague." 

The  medical  officer  (he  was  the  same  medical  officer  who 
had  followed  poor  old  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  to  the  grave,  and 
who  had  attended  Mrs.  Gamp's  patient  at  the  Bull),  smiled 
in  saying  these  words;  and  casually  added,  as  he  brushed 
some  grains  of  snuff  from  his  shirt-frill,  "  I  always  take  it 
myself  about  this  time  of  day,  do  you  know!  " 

"  Bullamy!  "  said  the  chairman,  ringing  the  little  bell. 

"Sir!" 

''  Lunch." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWrr.  437 

**  Not  on  my  account,  I  hope,"  said  the  doctor.  "  You 
are  very  good.  Thank  you.  I'm  quite  ashamed.  Ha,  ha! 
if  I  had  been  a  sharp  practitioner,  Mr.  Montague,  I  shouldn't 
have  mentioned  it  without  a  fee;  for  you  may  depend  upon 
it,  my  dear  sir,  that  if  you  don't  make  a  point  of  taking 
lunch,  you'll  very  soon  come  under  my  hands.  Allow  me 
to  illustrate  this.     In  Mr.  Crimple's  leg — " 

The  resident  director  gave  an  involuntary  start,  for  the 
doctor,  in  the  heat  of  his  demonstration,  caught  it  up  and 
laid  it  across  his  own,  as  if  he  were  going  to  take  it  off,  then 
and  there. 

''  In  Mr.  Crimple's  leg,  you'll  observe,"  pursued  the  doc- 
tor, turning  back  his  cuffs  and  spanning  the  limb  with  both 
hands,  "  where  Mr.  Crimple's  knee  fits  into  the  socket,  here, 
there  is — that  is  to  say,  between  the  bone  and  the  socket — 
a  certain  quantity  of  animal  oil." 

"  What  do  you  pick  my  leg  out  for  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crimple, 
looking  with  something  of  an  anxious  expression  at  his  limb. 
"  It's  the  same  with  other  legs,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Never  you  mind,  my  good  sir,"  returned  the  doctor, 
shaking  his  head,  ''  whether  it  is  the  same  with  other  legs, 
or  not  the  same." 

'*  But  I  do  mind,"  said  David. 

"  I  take  a  particular  case,  Mr.  Montague,"  returned  the 
doctor,  "  as  illustrating  my  remark,  you  observe.  In  this 
portion  of  Mr.  Crimple's  leg,  sir,  there  is  a  certain  amount 
of  animal  oil.  In  every  one  of  Mr.  Crimple's  joints,  sir, 
there  is  more  or  less  of  the  same  deposit.  Very  good.  If 
Mr.  Crimple  neglects  his  meals,  or  fails  to  take  his  proper 
quantity  of  rest,  that  oil  wanes  and  becomes  exhausted. 
What  is  the  consequence  ?  Mr.  Crimple's  bones  sink  down 
into  their  sockets,  sir,  and  Mr.  Crimple  becomes  a  weazen, 
puny,  stunted,  miserable  man!" 

The  doctor  let  Mr.  Crimple's  leg  fall  suddenly,  as  if  he 
were  already  in  that  agreeable  condition,  turned  down  his 
wristbands  again,  and  looked  triumphantly  at  the  chair- 
man. 

'*  We  know  a  few  secrets  of  nature  in  our  profession,  sir," 
said  the  doctor.  ^' Of  course  we  do.  W^e  study  for  that; 
we  pass  the  hall  and  the  college  for  that;  and  we  take  our 
station  in  society  by  that.  It's  extraordinary  how  little  is 
known  on  these  subjects  generally.  Where  do  you  suppose, 
now  " — the  doctor  closed  one  eye,  as  he  leaned  back  smil- 
ingly in  his  chair,  and  formed  a  triangle  with  bis  hands,  of 


438  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

which  his  two  thumbs  composed  the  base — "  where  do  you 
suppose  Mr.  Crimple's  stomach  is?" 

Mr.  Crimple,  more  agitated  than  before,  clapped  his  hand 
immediately  below  his  waistcoat. 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  the  doctor;  "not  at  all.  Quite  a  pop- 
ular mistake!     My  good  sir,  you're  altogether  deceived." 

"  I  feel  it  there,  when  it's  out  of  order;  that's  all  I  know," 
said  Crimple. 

''You  think  ycu  do,"  replied  the  doctor,  "but  science 
knows  better.  There  was  a  patient  of  mine  once  " — touch- 
ing one  of  the  many  mourning  rings  upon  his  fingers,  and 
slightly  bowing  his  head — "  a  gentleman  who  did  me  the 
honor  to  make  a  very  handsome  mention  of  me  in  his  will — 
'in  testimony,'  as  he  was  pleased  to  say,  'of  the  unremit- 
ting zeal,  talent  and  attention  of  my  friend  and  medical 
attendant,  John  Jobling,  Esquire,  M.R.C.S.,' — who  was 
so  overcome  by  the  idea  of  having  all  his  life  labored  under 
an  erroneous  view  of  the  locality  of  this  important  organ, 
that  when  I  assured  him,  on  my  professional  reputation, 
he  was  mistaken,  he  burst  into  tears,  put  out  his  hand,  and 
said,  'Jobling,  God  bless  you!'  Immediately  afterward 
he  became  speechless,  and  v/as  ultimately  buried  at  Brix- 
ton." 

"By  your  leave  there!  "  cried  Bullamy,  without.  "By 
your  leave!     Refreshment  for  the  board-room!  " 

"  Ha!  "  said  the  doctor,  jocularly,  as  he  rubbed  his  hands 
and  drew  his  chair  nearer  to  the  table.  "  The  true  life  assur- 
ance, Mr.  Montague.  The  best  policy  in  the  world,  my  dear 
sir.  We  should  be  provident,  and  eat  and  drink  whenever 
we  can.     Eh,  Mr.  Crimple?  " 

The  resident  director  acquiesced  rather  sulkily,  as  if  the 
gratification  of  replenishing  his  stomach  had  been  impaired 
by  the  unsettlement  of  his  preconceived  opinions  in  refer- 
ence to  its  situation.  But  the  appearance  of  the  porter  and 
under  porter  with  a  tray  covered  with  a  snow-white  cloth, 
which,  being  thrown  back,  displayed  a  pair  of  cold  roast 
fowls,  flanked  by  some  potted  meats  and  a  cool  salad, 
quickly  restored  his  good  humor.  It  was  enhanced  still 
further  by  the  arrival  of  a  bottle  of  excellent  madeira,  and 
another  of  champagne;  and  he  soon  attacked  the  repast 
with  an  appetite  scarcely  inferior  to  that  of  the  medical 
officer. 

The  lunch  Avas  handsomely  served,  with  a  i)rofusion  of 
rich  plass,  plate,  and   china^  which   seemed   to   denote  tliat 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  439 

eating  and  drinking  on  a  showy  scale  formed  no  unimpor- 
tant item  in  the  business  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  directorship. 
As  it  proceeded,  the  medical  officer  grew  more  and  more 
joyous  and  red-faced,  insomuch  that  every  mouthful  he  ate, 
and  every  drop  of  wine  he  swallowed,  seemed  to  impart  new 
luster  to  his  eyes,  and  to  light  up  new  sparks  in  his  nose  and 
forehead. 

In  certain  quarters  of  the  city  and  its  neighborhood,  Mr. 
Jobling  was,  as  we  have  already  seen  in  some  measure,  a 
very  popular  character.  He  had  a  portentously  sagacious 
chin,  and  a  pompous  voice,  with  a  rich  huskiness  in  some 
of  its  tones  that  went  directly  to  the  heart,  like  a  ray  of 
light  shining  through  the  ruddy  medium  of  choice  old  bur- 
gundy. His  neckerchief  and  shirt  frill  were  ever  of  the 
whitest,  his  clothes  of  the  blackest  and  sleekest,  his  gold 
watch-chain  of  the  heaviest,  and  his  seals  of  the  largest. 
His  boots,  which  were  always  of  the  brightest,  creaked  as  he 
walked.  Perhaps  he  could  shake  his  head,  rub  his  hands,  or 
warm  himself  before  a  fire,  better  thai?  any  man  alive;  and 
he  had  a  peculiar  way  of  smacking  his  lips  and  saying, 
"Ah!"  at  intervals  while  patients  detailed  their  symptoms, 
which  inspired  great  confidence.  It  seemed  to  express,  I 
"  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say  better  than  you  do;  but  go 
on,  go  on."  As  he  talked  on  all  occasions,  whether  he  had 
any  thing  to  say  or  not,  it  was  unanimously  observed  of  him 
that  he  was  ''full  of  anecdote;  "  and  his  experience  and 
profit  from  it  were  considered,  for  the  same  reason,  to  be 
something  much  too  extensive  for  description.  His  female 
patients  could  never  praise  him  too  highly;  and  the  coldest 
of  his  male  admirers  would  always  say  this  for  hirri  to  their 
friends,  "  that  whatever  Jobling's  professional  skill  might  be 
(and  it  could  not  be  denied  that  he  had  a  very  high  reputa- 
tion), he  was  one  of  the  most  comfortable  fellows  you  ever 
sav/  in  your  life!  " 

Jobling  v/as  for  many  reasons,  and  not  last  in  the  list, 
because  his  connection  lay  principally  among  tradesmen 
and  their  families,  exactly  the  sort  of  person  whom  the 
Anglo-Bengalee  company  wanted  for  a  medical  officer. 
But  Jobling  was  far  too  knowing  to  connect  himself 
with  the  company  in  any  closer  ties  than  as  a  paid  (and 
well  paid)  functionary,  or  to  allow  his  connection  to  be 
misunderstood  abroad,  if  he  could  help  it.  Hence,  he 
always  stated  the  case  to  an  inquiring  patient  after  this  man- 
ner: 


440  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  with  regard  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee, 
my  information,  you  see,  is  limited — very  livnited.  I  am  the 
medical  officer,  in  consideration  of  a  certain  monthly  pay- 
ment. The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire;  J^is  dat qui cito  dat  " 
— ("Classical  scholar,  Jobling!  "  thinks  the  patient;  '' well- 
read  man!  ") — "  and  I  receive  it  regularly.  Therefore  [  am 
bound,  so  far  as  my  own  knowledge  goes,  to  speak  well  of 
the  establishment."  ("  Nothing  can  be  fairer  than  Job- 
ling's  conduct,"  thinks  the  patient,  who  has  just  paid  Job- 
ling's  bill  himself.)  "  If  you  put  any  question  to  me,  my 
dear  friend,"  says  the  doctor,  '*  touching  the  responsibility 
or  capital  of  the  company,  there  I  am  at  fault;  for  I  have 
no  head  for  figures,  and  not  being  a  shareholder,  am 
delicate  of  showing  any  curiosity  whatever  on  the  subject. 
Delicacy — your  amiable  lady  will  agree  with  me  I  am  sure — 
should  be  one  of  the  first  characteristics  of  a  medical  man." 
("  Nothing  can  be  finer  or  more  gentlemanly  than  Jobling's 
feeling,"  thinks  the  patient.)  "Very  good,  my  dear  sir,  so 
the  matter  stands.  You  don't  know  Mr.  Montague  ?  I'm 
sorry  for  it.  A  remarkably  handsome  man,  and  quite  the 
gentleman  in  every  respect.  Property,  I  am  told,  in  India. 
House  and  every  thing  belonging  to  him,  beautiful.  Costly 
furniture  on  the  most  elegant  and  lavish  scale.  And  pic- 
tures, which,  even  in  an  anatomical  point  of  view,  are  per — 
fection.  In  case  you  should  ever  think  of  doing  any  thing 
with  the  company,  I'll  pass  you,  you  may  depend  upon  it. 
I  can  conscientiously  report  you  a  healthy  subject.  If  1 
understand  any  man's  constitution,  it  is  yours  ;  and  this  little 
indisposition  has  done  him  more  good,  ma'am,"  says  the 
doctor,  turning  to  the  patient's  vv'ife,  "  than  if  he  had  swal- 
lowed the  contents  of  half  the  nonsensical  bottles  in  my 
surgery.  For  they  are  nonsense — to  tell  the  honest  truth, 
one  half  of  them  are  nonsense — compared  Avith  such  a  con- 
stitution as  his  !  "  ("Jobling  is  the  most  friendly  creature 
I  ever  met  with  in  my  life,"  thinks  the  patient  ;  "and  upon 
my  word  and  honor,  I'll  consider  of  it  !  ") 

"  Commission  to  you,  doctor,  on  four  new  policies,  and  a 
loan  this  morning,  eh  ? "  said  Crimple  looking,  when  they 
had  finished  lunch,  over  some  papers  brought  in  by  the 
porter.     "  Well  done  !  " 

"  Jobling,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Tigg,  "  long  life  to 
you." 

"  No,  no.  Nonsense.  Upon  my  word  Txe  no  right  to 
draw  the  commission,"  said   the  doctor,    "  1    haven't   really. 


MARTIM  CHUZZLEWIT.  441 

It's  picking  your  pocket.  I  don't  recommend  anybody  lit  re. 
I  only  say  what  I  know.  My  patients  ask  me  what  1  know, 
and  I  tell  'em  what  I  know.  Nothing  else.  Caution  is  my 
weak  side,  that's  the  truth  ;  and  always  was  from  a  boy. 
That  is,"  said  the  doctor,  filling  his  glass,  "  caution  in  behalf 
or  other  people.  Whether  I  would  repose  confidence  in  this 
company  myself,  if  I  had  not  been  paying  money  elsewhere 
for  many  years — that's  quite  another  question." 

He  tried  to  look  as  if  there  were  no  doubt  about  it  ;  but 
feeling  that  he  did  it  but  indifferently,  changed  the  theme 
and  praised  the  wine. 

"  Talking  of  wine,"  said  the  doctor,  '*  reminds  me  of  one 
of  the  finest  glasses  of  light  old  port  I  ever  drank  in  my  life  ; 
and  that  was  at  a  funeral.  You  have  not  seen  any  thing 
of — of  that  party,  Mr.  Montague,  have  you  ?  "  handing  him 
a  card. 

*'  He  is  not  buried,  I  hope  ? "  said  Tigg,  as  he  took 
it.     "  The  honor  of  his  company  is  not  requested  if  he  is." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  doctor.  "  No  ;  not  quite.  He 
was  honorably  connected  with  that  very  occasion  though." 

*'  Oh  !  "  said  Tigg,  smoothing  his  mustache,  as  he  cast  his 
eyes  upon  the  name.  "  I  recollect.  No.  He  has  not  been 
here." 

The  words  were  on  his  lips,  when  BuUamy  entered,  and 
presented  a  card  to  the  medical  officer. 

"  Talk  of  the  what's  his  name,"  observed  the  doctor 
rising. 

"  And  he's  sure  to  appear,  eh  ? "  said  Tigg. 

"  Why,  no,  Mr.  Montague,  no,"  returned  the  doctor. 
"  We  will  not  say  th:!t  in  the  present  case,  for  this  gentleman 
is  very  far  from  it." 

"So  much  the  better,"  retorted  Tigg.  "So  much  the 
more  adaptable  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee.  Bullamy,  clear  the 
table  and  take  the  things  out  by  the  other  door.  Mr.  Crim- 
pie,  business." 

"  Shall  I  introduce  him  ?  "  asked  Jobling. 

"  I  shall  be  eternally  delighted,"  answered  Tigg,  kissing 
his  hand  and  smiling  sweetly. 

The  doctor  disappeared  into  the  outer  office,  and  imme- 
diately returned  with  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

"  Mr.  Montague,"  said  Jobling.  "  Allow  me.  My  friend 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  My  dear  friend — our  chairman.  Now  do 
you  know,"  he  added,  checking  himself  with  infinite  policy, 
and  looking  round  with  a  smile,  "  that's  a  very  singular  in- 


442  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT. 

stance  of  the  force  of  example.  It  really  is  a  very  remark 
able  instance  of  the  force  of  example.  I  say  otir  chairman. 
Why  do  I  say  our  chairman  ?  Because  he  is  not  my  cliair- 
man,  you  know.  I  have  no  connection  with  the  company, 
further  than  giving  them.,  for  a  certain  fee  and  reward,  my 
poor  opinion  as  a  medical  man,  precisely  as  I  may  give  it  any 
day  to  Jack  Noakes  or  Tom  Styles.  Then  why  do  1 
say  our  chairman  ?  Simply  because  I  hear  the  phrase  con- 
stantly repeated  about  me.  Such  is  the  involuntary  opera- 
tion of  the  mental  faculty  in  the  imitative  biped  man.  Mr. 
Crimple,  I  believe  you  never  take  snuff  ?  Injudicious.  You 
should." 

Pending  these  remarks  on  the  part  of  the  doctor,  and  the 
lengthened  and  sonorous  pinch  with  which  he  followed  them 
up,  Jonas  took  a  seat  at  the  board,  as  ungainly  a  man  as 
ever  he  has  been  within  the  reader's  knovvdedge.  It  is  too 
common  with  all  of  us,  but  it  is  especially  in  the  nature  of  a 
mean  mind,  to  be  overawed  by  fine  clothes  and  fine  furniture. 
They  had  a  very  decided  influence  on  Jonas. 

"  Now  you  two  -gentlemen  have  business  to  discuss,  I 
know,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  your  time  is  precious.  So  is 
mine  ;  for  several  lives  are  waiting  for  me  in  the  next  room, 
and  I  have  a  round  of  visits  to  make  after — after  I  have 
taken  'em.  Having  had  the  happiness  to  introduce  you  to 
each  other,  I  may  go  about  my  business.  Good-by.  But 
allow  me,  Mr.  Montague,  before  I  go,  to  say  this  of  my 
friend  who  sits  beside  you  :  that  gentlemen  has  done  more, 
sir,"  rapping  his  snuff-box  solemnly,  ''  to  reconcile  me  to 
human  nature,  than  any  man  alive  or  dead.     Good-by  !  " 

With  these  words  Jobling  bolted  abruptly  out  of  the 
room,  and  proceeded  in  his  own  official  department,  to 
impress  the  lives  in  waiting  with  a  sense  of  his  keen  consci- 
entiousness in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  the  great 
difficulty  of  getting  into  the  Anglo-Bengalee  ;  by  feeling 
their  pulses,  looking  at  their  tongues,  listening  at  their  ribs, 
poking  them  in  the  chest,  and  so  forth  ;  though,  if  he  didn't 
well  know  beforehand  that  whatever  kind  of  lives  they 
were,  the  Anglo-Bengalee  would  accept  them  readily,  he 
was  far  from  being  the  Jobling  that  his  friend  considered 
him  ;  and  was  not  the  original  Jobling,  but  a  spurious  imi- 
tation. 

Mr.  Crimple  also  departed  on  the  business  of  the  morning  ; 
and  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  and  Tigg  were  left  alone. 

•*  I  learn  from  our  friend,"   said   Tigg,  drawing  his  chair 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  443 

toward  Jonas  with  a  winning  ease  of  manner,  "  that  you 
have  been  thinking — "' 

"  Oh  !  Ecod  then  he'd  no  right  to  say  so,"  cried  Jonas, 
interrupting.  "  I  didn't  tell  hijn  my  thoughts.  If  he  took  it 
into  his  head  that  I  was  coming  here  for  such  or  such  a  pur- 
pose, why,  that's  his  look-out.  I  don't  stand  committed  by 
that." 

Jonas  said  this  offensively  enough  ;  for  over  and  above 
the  habitual  distrust  of  his  character,  it  was  in  his  nature  to 
seek  to  revenge  himself  on  the  fine  clothes  and  the  fine  furni- 
ture, in  exact  proportion  as  he  had  been  unable  to  withstand 
their  influence. 

"  If  I  come  here  to  ask  a  question  or  two,  and  get  a  docu- 
ment or  two  to  consider  of,  I  don't  bind  myself  to  any  thing. 
Let's  understand  that,  you  know,"  said  Jonas. 

*'  My  dear  fellow  !  "  cried  Tigg,  clapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  "  I  applaud  your  frankness.  If  men  like  you  and 
I  speak  openly  at  first,  all  possible  misunderstanding  is 
avoided.  Why  should  I  disguise  what  you  know  so  well, 
but  what  the  crowd  never  dream  of  ?  We  companies  are 
all  birds  of  prey  ;  mere  birds  of  prey.  The  only  question 
is,  whether,  in  serving  our  own  turn,  we  can  serve  yours, 
too  ;  whether  in  double-lining  our  own  nest,  we  can  put  a 
single  lining  into  yours.  Oh,  you're  in  our  secret.  You're 
behind  the  scenes.  We'll  make  a  merit  of  dealing  plainly 
with  you,  when  we  knoAv  we  can't  help  it." 

It  was  remarked,  on  the  first  introduction  of  Mr.  Jonas 
into  these  pages,  that  there  is  a  simplicity  of  cunning  no  less 
than  a  simplicity  of  innocence,  and  that  in  a.ll  matters 
involving  a  faith  in  knavery,  he  was  the  most  credulous  of 
men.  If  Mr.  Tigg  had  preferred  any  claim  to  high  and 
honorable  dealing,  Jonas  would  have  suspected  him  though 
he  had  been  a  very  model  of  probity  ;  but  when  he  gave 
utterance  to  Jonas's  own  thoughts  of  every  thing  and  every 
body,  Jonas  began  to  feel  that  he  was  a  pleasant  fellow,  and 
one  to  be  talked  to  freely. 

He  changed  his  position  in  the  chair  ;  not  for  a  less  awk- 
ward, but  for  a  most  boastful  attitude  ;  and  smiling  in  his 
miserable  conceit,  rejoined  : 

"You  ain't  a  bad  m.an  of  business,  Mr.  Montague.  You 
know  how  to  set  about  it,  I  will  say." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tigg,  nodding  confidentially,  and  showing 
his  white  teeth  ;  ''  we  are  not  children,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ;  we 
are  grown  men,  I  hope." 


444  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Jonas  assented,  and  said  after  a  short  silence,  first  spread- 
ing out  his  legs,  and  sticking  one  arm  akimbo  to  show  how 
perfectly  at  home  he  was. 

"The  truth  is—" 

"  Don't  say,  the  truth,"  interposed  Tigg,  Avith  another  grin. 
"  It's  so  like  humbug." 

Greatly  charmed  by  this,  Jonas  began  again. 

"  The  long  and  short  of  it,  is — " 

"  Better,"  muttered  Tigg.     ''  Much  better  !  " 

"  — That  I  didn't  consider  myself  very  well  used  by  one 
or  two  of  the  old  companies  in  some  negotiations  I  have  had 
with  'em.  Once  had,  I  mean.  They  started  objections 
they  had  no  right  to  start,  and  put  questions  they  had  no 
right  to  put,  and  carried  things  much  too  high  for  my  taste." 

As  he  made  these  observations  he  cast  down  his  eyes,  and 
looked  curiously  at  the  carpet.  Mr.  Tigg  looked  curiously 
at  him. 

He  made  so  long  a  pause,  that  Tigg  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  said,  in  his  pleasantest  manner  : 

'*  Take  a  glass  of  wine." 

''  No,  no,"  returned  Jonas,  with  a  cunning  shake  of  the 
head  ;  "  none  of  that,  thankee.  No  wine  over  business. 
All  very  well  for  you,  but  it  wouldn't  do  for  me." 

'*  What  an  old  hand  you  are,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  "  said  Tigg, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and  leering  at  him  through  his 
half-shut  eyes. 

Jonas  shook  his  head  again,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You're 
right  there  ;  "  and  then  resumed,  jocosely  : 

''  Not  such  an  old  hand,  cither,  but  that  I've  been  and  got 
married.  That's  rather  green,  you'll  say.  Perhaps  it  is, 
especially  as  she's  young.  But  one  never  knows  what  may 
happen  to  these  women,  so  I'm  thinking  of  insuring  her 
life.  It  is  but  fair,  you  know,  that  a  man  should  secure 
some  consolation  in  case  of  meeting  with  such  a  loss." 

*'  Jf  any  thing  can  console  him  under  such  heart-breaking 
circumstances,"  murmured  Tigg,  with  his  eyes  shut  up  as 
before. 

"  Exactly,"  returned  Jonas ;  "  if  any  thing  can.  Now, 
supposing  I  did  it  liere,  I  should  do  it  cheap,  1  know,  and 
easy,  without  bothering  her  about  it  ;  which  I'd  much  rather 
not  do,  for  it's  just  in  a  woman's  way  to  take  it  into  her 
head,  if  you  talk  to  her  about  such  things,  that  she's  going 
to  die  directly." 

"So  it  is,"  cried  Tigg,  kissing  his  hand   in  honor  of  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  445 

sex.  "  You're  quite  right.  Sweet,  silly,  fluttering  little  sim- 
pletons !  " 

"Well,"  said  Jonas,  "on  that  account,  you  know,  and 
because  offense  has  been  given  me  in  other  quarters,  I 
wouldn't  mind  patronizing  this  company.  But  I  want  to 
know  what  sort  of  security  there  is  for  the  company's  going 
on.     That's  the — " 

"  Not  the  truth  ?  "  cried  Tigg,  holding  up  his  jeweled 
hand.     ''  Don't  use  that  Sunday-school  expression,  please  !  " 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it,"  said  Jonas.  "  The  long 
and  the  short  of  it  is,  what's  the  security  ?" 

"The  paid-up  capital,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Tigg,  referring 
to  some  papers  on  the  table,  "  is,  at  this  present  moment — '\ 

"  Oh  !  I  understand  all  about  paid-up  capitals,  you  know," 
said  Jonas. 

"  You  do  ?  "  cried  Tigg,  stopping  short. 

"  I  should  hope  so." 

He  turned  the  papers  down  again,  and  moving  nearer  to 
him,  said  in  his  ear  : 

"  I  know  you  do.     I  know  you  do.     Look  at  me  !  " 

It  was  not  much  in  Jonas's  way  to  look  straight  at  any 
body  ;  but  thus  reques\:ed,  he  made  shift  to  take  a  tolerable 
survey  of  the  chairman's  features.  The  chairman  fell  back 
a  little,  to  give  him  the  better  opportunity. 

"  You  know  me  ? "  he  inquired,  elevating  his  eyebrows. 
"  You  recollect  ?  You've  seen  me  before  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  I  remembered  your  face  when  I  first 
came  in,"  said  Jonas,  gazing  at  it  ;  "  but  I  couldn't  call  to 
mind  where  I  had  seen  it.  No.  I  don't  remember,  even 
now.     Was  it  in  the  street  ? " 

"  Was  it  in  Pecksniff's  parlor  ?  "  said  Tigg. 

"  In  Pecksniff's  parlor  !  "  echoed  Jonas,  fetching  a  long 
breath.     "  You  don't  mean  when — " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Tigg,  "  when  there  was  a  very  charming  and 
delightful  little  family  party,  at  which  yourself  and  your 
respected  father  assisted." 

"  Well,  never  mind  /lim,"  said  Jonas.  "  He's  dead,  and 
there's  no  help  for  it." 

"  Dead,  is  he  !  "  cried  Tigg.  "  Venerable  old  gentleman, 
is  he  dead  !  You're  very  like  him." 

Jonas  received  this  compliment  with  any  thing  but  a  good 
grace  ;  perhaps  because  of  his  own  private  sentiments  in 
reference  to  the  personal  appearance  of  his  deceased  parent  ; 
perhaps  because  he  was  not  best  pleased  to  find  that  Mon- 


440  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

tague  and  Tigg  were  one.  That  gentleman  perceived  it, 
and  tapping  him  famiHarly  on  the  sleeve,  beckoned  him  to 
the  window.  From  this  moment,  Mr.  Montague's  jocularit}^ 
and  flow  of  spirits  were  remarkable. 

"  Do  you  find  me  at  all  changed  since  that  time  ?"  he 
asked.     **  Speak  plainly." 

Jonas  looked  hard  at  his  waistcoat  and  jewels  ;  and  said, 
"Rather,  ecod  !" 

''  Was  I  at  all  seedy  in  those  days  ?  "  asked  Montague. 

"  Precious  seedy,"  said  Jonas. 

Mr.  Montague  pointed  down  into  the  street,  where  Bailey 
and  the  cab  were  in  attendance. 
.    "  Neat  :  perhaps  dashing.     Do  you  know  whose  it  is  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Mine.     Do  you  like  this  room  ? " 

"  It  must  have  cost  a  lot  of  money,"  said  Jonas. 

"  You're  right.  Mine  too.  Why  don't  you  " — he  whis- 
pered this,  and  nudged  him  in  the  side  with  his  elbow — 
"  why  don't  you  take  premiums,  instead  of  paying  'em  ? 
That's  what  a  man  like  you  should  do.     Join  us  !  " 

Jonas  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Is  that  a  crov/ded  street  ?  "  asked  Montague,  calling  his 
attention  to  the  multitude  without. 

"  Very,"  said  Jonas,  only  glancing  at  it,  and  immediately 
afterward  looking  at  him  again. 

*^  There  are  printed  calculations,"  said  his  companion, 
"  which  will  tell  you  pretty  nearly  how  many  people  will 
pass  up  and  down  that  thoroughfare  in  the  course  of  a  day. 
/  can  tell  you  how  many  of  'em  will  come  in  here,  merely 
because  they  find  thi^;  office  here  ;  knowing  no  more  about 
it  than  they  do  of  the  Pyramids.  Ha,  ha  !  Join  us.  You 
shall  come  in  cheap." 

Jonas  looked  at  him  harder  and  harder. 

'^  J  can  tell  you,"  said  I'igg  in  his  ear,  "  how  many  of  *em 
will  buy  annuities,  effect  insurances,  bring  us  their  money  in 
a  hundred  shapes  and  ways,  force  it  upon  us,  trust  us  as  if 
we  were  the  mint  ;  yet  know  no  more  about  us  than  you  do 
of  that  crossing-sweeper  at  the  corner.  Not  so  much.  Ha, 
ha!" 

Jonas  gradually  broke  into  a  smile. 

"  Yah  !  "  said  Montague,  giving  him  a  pleasant  thrust  in 
the  breast  ;  "  you're  too  deep  for  us,  you  dog,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  told  you.     Dine  with  me  to-morrow  in  Pall  Mall !  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Jonas. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  447 

'*  Done  !  "  cried  Montague.  "  Wait  a  bit.  Take  these 
papers  with  you,  and  look  'em  over.  See,"  he  said,  snatch- 
ing some  printed  forms  from  the  table.  "  B  is  a  little  trades- 
man, clerk,  parson,  artist,  author,  any  common  thing  you  like." 

"  Yes,"  said»^  Jonas,  looking  greedily  over  his  shoulder. 
"Well  !" 

"  B  wants  a  loan.  Say  fifty  or  a  hundred  pound  ;  perhaps 
more  ;  no  matter.  B  proposes  self  and  two  securities.  B 
is  accepted.  Two  securities  give  a  bond.  B  insures  his 
own  life  for  double  the  amount,  and  brings  two  friends'  lives 
also — just  to  patronize  the  office.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Is  that  a 
good  notion  ?" 

^'  Ecod,  that's  a  capital  notion  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  But 
does  he  really  do  it  ?  " 

'^  Do  it !  "  repeated  the  chairman.  "  B's  hard-up,  my 
good  fellow,  and  will  do  any  thing.  Don't  you  see  ?  It's  my 
idea." 

"  It  does  you  honor.     I'm  blest  if  it  don't,"  said  Jonas. 

"  I  think  it  does,"  replied  the  chairman,  "  and  I'm  proud 
to  hear  you  say  so.     B  pays   the   highest  lawful  interest — " 

**  That  ain't  much,"  interrupted  Jonas. 

"  Right  !  quite  right  !  "  retorted  Tigg.  ''  And  hard  it  is 
upon  the  part  of  the  law  that  it  should  be  so  confoundedly 
down  upon  us  unfortunate  victims  ;  when  it  takes  such 
amazing  good  interest  for  itself  from  all  its  clients.  But 
charity  begins  at  home,  and  justice  begins  next  door. 
Well  !  The  law  being  hard  upon  us,  we're  not  exactly  soft 
upon  B  ;  for  besides  charging  B  the  regular  interest,  we  get 
B's  premium,  and  B's  friends'  premiums,  and  we  charge  B 
for  the  bond,  and,  whether  we  accept  him  or  not,  we  charge 
B  for  *  inquiries '  (we  keep  a  man,  at  a  pound  a  week,  to 
make  'em),  and  we  charge  B  a  trifle  for  the  secretary  ;  and, 
in  short,  my  good  fellow,  we  stick  it  into  B,  up  hill  and  down 
dale,  and  make  a  devilish  comfortable  little  property  out  of 
him.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  drive  B,  in  point  of  fact,"  said  Tigg, 
pointing  to  the  cabriolet,  '*  and  a  thorough-bred  horse  he  is. 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Jonas  enjoyed  this  joke  very  much  indeed.  It  was  quite 
in  his  peculiar  vein  of  humor. 

"  Then,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "  we  grant  annuities  on  the 
very  lowest  and  most  advantageous  terms  known  in  the 
money  market  ;  and  the  old  ladies  and  gentlemen  down  in 
the  country,  buy  'em.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  And  we  pay  'em  too — 
perhaps.     Ha,  ha,  ha  \  " 


448  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  But  there's  responsibility  in  that,  said  Jonas,  looking 
doubtful. 

"  I  take  it  all  myself,"  said  Tigg  Montague.  "  Here  I 
am,  responsible  for  every  thing.  The  only  responsible  per- 
son in  the  establishment  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Then  there  are  the 
life  insurances  without  loans  ;  the  common  policies.  Very 
profitable,  very  comfortable.  Money  down,  you  know  ; 
repeated  every  year  ;  capital  fun  !  " 

"  But  when  they  begin  to  fall  in,"  observed  Jonas.  "  It's 
all  very  well,  while  the  office  is  young,  but  when  the  policies 
begin  to  die — that's  what  I  am  thinking  of." 

"At  the  first  start,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Montague,  **to 
show  you  how  correct  your  judgment  is,  we  had  a  couple  of 
unlucky  deaths  that  brought  us  down  to  a  grand  piano." 

"  Brought  you  down  where  ?  "  cried  Jonas. 

"  I  give  you  my  sacred  word  of  honor,"  said  Tigg  Mon- 
tague, "  that  I  raised  money  on  every  other  individual  piece 
of  property,  and  was  left  alone  in  the  world  with  a  grand 
piano.  And  it  was  an  upright-grand  too,  so  that  I  couldn't 
even  sit  upon  it.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  we  got  over  it.  We 
granted  a  great  many  new  policies  that  week  (liberal  allow- 
ance to  solicitors,  by  the  by),  and  got  over  it  in  no  time. 
Whenever  they  should  chance  to  fall  in  heavily,  as  you  very 
justly  observe  they  may,  one  of  these  days;  then — "  he 
finished  the  sentence  in  so  low  a  whisper,  that  only  one  dis- 
connected word  was  audible,  and  that  imperfectly.  But  it 
sounded  like  "  Bolt." 

"  Why,  you're  as  bold  as  brass  !  "  said  Jones,  in  the  utter- 
most admiration. 

"  A  man  can  well  afford  to  be  as  bold  as  brass,  my  good 
fellow,  when  he  gets  gold  in  exchange  !  "  cried  the  chairman, 
with  a  laugh  that  shook  him  from  head  to  foot.  "  You'll 
dine  with  me  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  At  what  time?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Seven.  Here's  my  card.  Take  the  documents.  I  see 
you'll  join  us  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Jonas.  "  There's  a  good 
deal  to  be  looked  into  first." 

"  You  shall  look,"  said  Montague,  slapping  him  on  the 
back,  "  into  any  thing  and  every  thing  you  please.  But 
you'll  join  us,  I  am  convinced.  You  were  made  for  it. 
Bullamy  !  " 

Obedient  to  the  summons  and  the  little  bell,  the  waistcoat 
appeared.     Being  charged  to  show  Jonas  out,  ic  went  before; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


449 


and  the  voice  within  it  cried,  as  usual,  ''  By  your  leave  there, 
by  your  leave  !  Gentleman  from  the  board-room,  by  your 
leave  !  " 

Mr.  Montague  being  left  alone,  pondered  for  some 
moments,  and  then  said,  raising  his  voice, 

"  Is  Nadgett  in  the  office  there  ?  " 

''Here  he  is,  sir."  And  he  promptly  entered;  shutting 
the  board-room  door  after  him,  as  carefully  as  if  he  were 
about  to  plot  a  murder. 

He  was  the  man  at  a  pound  a  week  who  made  the  inqui- 
ries. It  was  no  virtue  or  merit  in  Nadgett  that  he  transacted 
all  his  Anglo-Bengalee  business  secretly  and  in  the  closest 
confidence  ;  for  he  was  born  to  be  a  secret.  He  was  a  short, 
dried-up,  withered,  old  man,  who  seemed  to  have  secreted 
his  very  blood;  for  nobody  would  have  given  him  credit  for 
the  possession  of  six  ounces  of  it  in  his  whole  body.  How 
he  lived  was  a  secret;  where  he  lived  was  a  secret;  and  even 
what  he  was,  was  a  secret.  In  his  musty  old  pocket-book 
he  carried  contradictory  cards,  in  some  of  which  he  called 
himself  a  coal-merchant,  in  others  a  wine-merchant,  in 
others  a  commission-agent,  in  others  a  collector,  in  others  an 
accountant:  as  if  he  really  didn't  know  the  secret  himself. 
He  was  always  keeping  appointments  in  the  city,  and  the 
other  man  never  seemed  to  come.  He  would  sit  on  'change 
for  hours  looking  at  every  body  who  walked  in  and  out,  and 
would  do  the  like  at  Garraway's,  and  in  other  business  cof- 
fee-rooms, in  some  of  which  he  would  be  occasionally  seen 
drying  a  very  damp  pocket-handkerchief  before  the  fire,  and 
still  looking  over  his  shoulder  for  the  man  who  never 
appeared.  He  was  mildewed,  threadbare,  shabby;  always 
had  flue  upon  his  legs  and  back;  and  kept  his  linen  so  secret 
by  buttoning  up  and  wrapping  over,  that  he  might  have  had 
none — perhaps  he  hadn't.  He  carried  one  stained  beaver 
glove,  which  he  dangled  before  him  by  the  forefinger  as  he 
walked  or  sat;  but  even  its  fellow  was  a  secret.  Some  peo- 
ple said  he  had  been  a  bankrupt,  others  that  he  had  gone  an 
infant  into  an  ancient  chancery  suit  which  was  still  depend- 
ing, but  it  was  all  a  secret.  He  carried  bits  of  sealing-wax 
and  a  hieroglyphical  old  copper  seal  in  his  pocket,  and  often 
secretly  indited  letters  in  corner  boxes  of  the  trysting-places 
before  mentioned;  but  they  never  appeared  to  go  to  any 
body,  for  he  would  put  them  into  a  secret  place  in  his  coat, 
and  deliver  them  to  himself  weeks  afterward,  very  much  to 
his  own  surprise,  quite  yellow.     He  was  that  sort  of  man  that 


450  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

if  he  had  died  worth  a  million  of  money,  or  had  died  worth 
twopence  halfpenny,  everybody  would  have  been  perfectly 
satisfied,  and  would  have  said  it  was  just  as  they  expected. 
And  yet  he  belonged  to  a  class;  a  race  peculiar  to  the  city; 
who  are  secrets  as  profound  to  one  another,  as  they  are  to 
the  rest  of  mankind. 

''  Mr.  Nadgett,"  said  Montague,  copying  Jonas  Chuzzle- 
wit's  address  upon  a  piece  of  paper,  from  the  card  which  was 
still  lying  on  the  table,  "  any  information  about  this  name,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  have  myself.  Don't  you  mind  what  it  is. 
Any  you  can  scrape  together,  bring  me.  Bring  it  to  fne,  Mr. 
Nadgett." 

Nadgett  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  read  the  name  atten- 
tively; then  looked  at  the  chairman  over  his  glasses,  and 
bowed;  then  tooked  them  off,  and  put  them  in  their  case;  and 
then  put  the  case  in  his  pocket.  When  he  had  done  so,  he 
looked,  without  his  spectacles,  at  the  paper  as  it  lay  before 
him,  and  at  the  same  time  produced  his  pocket-book  from 
somewhere  about  the  middle  of  his  spine.  Large  as  it  was, 
it  was  very  full  of  documents,  but  he  found  a  place  for  this 
one  ;  and  having  clasped  it  carefully,  passed  it  by  a  kind  of 
solemn  legerdemain  into  the  same  region  as  before. 

He  withdrew  with  another  bow  and  without  a  word  ;  open- 
ing the  door  no  wider  than  was  sufficient  for  his  passage 
out  ;  and  shutting  it  as  carefully  as  before.  The  chairman 
of  the  board  employed  the  rest  of  the  morning  in  affixing  his 
sign-manual  of  gracious  acceptance  to  various  new  proposals 
of  annuity-purchase  and  assurance.  The  company  was 
looking  up,  for  they  flowed  in  gayly. 


CHAPTER  XXVHI. 

MR.    MONTAGUE  AT    HOME.       AND    MR.  JONAS  CHUZZLEWIT  AT 

HOME. 

There  were  many  powerful  reasons  for  Jonas  Chuzzlewit 
being  strongly  prepossessed  in  favor  of  the  scheme  which  its 
great  originator  had  so  boldly  laid  open  to  him  ;  but  three 
among  them  stood  prominently  forward.  Firstly,  there  was 
money  to  be  made  by  it.  Secondly,  the  money  had  the 
peculiar  charm  of  being  sagaciously  obtained  at  other  peo- 
ple's cost.  Thirdly,  it  involved  much  outward  show  of 
homage  and  distinction  ;  a  board  being  an  awful  institution 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  451 

in  its  own  sphere,  and  a  director  a  mighty  man.  "  To  make 
a  swingeing  profit,  have  a  lot  of  chaps  to  order  about,  and 
get  into  regular  good  society  by  one  and  the  same  means, 
and  them  so  easy  to  one's  hand,  ain't  such  a  bad  lookout," 
thought  Jonas.  The  latter  considerations  were  only  second 
to  his  avarice  ;  for,  conscious  that  there  was  nothing  in  his 
person,  conduct,  character,  or  accomplishments,  to  command 
respect,  he  was  greedy  of  power,  and  was  in  his  heart,  as 
much  a  tyrant  as  any  laureled  conqueror  on  record. 

But  he  determined  to  proceed  with  cunning  and  caution, 
and  to  be  very  keen  in  his  observation  of  the  gentility  of  Mr. 
Montague's  private  establishment.  For  it  no  more  occurred 
to  this  shallow  knave  that  Montague  wanted  him  to  be  so, 
or  he  wouldn't  have  invited  him  while  his  decision  was  yet 
in  abeyance,  than  the  possibility  of  that  genius  being  able 
to  overreach  him  in  any  way,  pierced  through  his  self-con- 
ceit by  the  inlet  of  a  needle's  point.  He  had  said,  in  the 
outset,  that  Jonas  was  too  sharp  for  him  ;  and  Jonas,  who 
would  have  been  sharp  enough  to  believe  him  in  nothing 
else,  though  he  had  solemnly  sworn  it,  believed  him  in  that, 
instantly. 

It  was  with  a  faltering  hand,  and  yet  with  an  imbecile 
attempt  at  a  swagger,  that  he  knocked  at  his  new  friend's 
door  in  Pall  Mall  when  the  appointed  hour  arrived.  Mr. 
Bailey  quickly  answered  to  the  summons.  He  was  not 
proud,  and  was  kindly  disposed  to  take  notice  of  Jonas  ;  but 
Jonas  had  forgotten  him. 

*'  Mr.  Montague  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  should  hope  he  was  at  home,  and  waiting  dinner,  too," 
said  Bailey,  with  the  ease  of  an  old  acquaintance.  ''  Will 
you  take  your  hat  up  along  with  you,  or  leave  it  here  ? " 

Mr.  Jonas  preferred  leaving  it  there. 

"  The  hold  name,  I  suppose  ? "  said  Bailey,  with  a  grin. 

Mr.  Jonas  stared  at  him  in  mute  indignation, 

''What,  don't  you  remember  hold  mother  Todgers's  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  his  favorite  action  of  the  knees  and 
boots.  "  Don't  you  remember  my  taking  your  name  up  to 
the  young  ladies,  when  you  come  a-courting  there  ?  A  reg*- 
lar  scaly  old  chop,  warn't  it  ?  Times  is  changed,  ain't  they  ? 
I  say,  how  you've  growed." 

Without  pausing  for  any  acknowledgment  of  this  com- 
pliment, he  ushered  the  visitor  up-stairs ;  and  having 
announced  him,  retired  with  a  private  wink. 

The  lower  story  of  the  house  was  occupied  by  a  wealthy 


452  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

tradesman,  but  Mr.  Montague  had  all  the  upper  portion,  and 
splendid  lodging  it  was.  The  room  in  which  he  received 
Jonas  was  a  spacious  and  elegant  apartment,  furnished  with 
extreme  magnificence,  decorated  with  pictures,  copies  from 
the  antique  in  alabaster  and  marble,  china  vases,  lofty  mir- 
rors, crimson  hangings  of  the  richest  silk,  gilded  carvings, 
luxurious  couches,  glistening  cabinets  inlaid  with  precious 
woods,  costly  toys  of  every  sort  in  negligent  abundance. 
The  only  guests  beside  Jonas  were  the  doctor,  the  resident 
director,  and  two  other  gentlemen,  whom  Montague  pre- 
sented in  due  form. 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  Jobling  you 
know,  I  believe  ? " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  the  doctor  pleasantly,  as  he  stepped  out 
of  the  circle  to  shake  hands.  **  I  trust  I  have  that  honor.  I 
hope  so.  My  dear  sir,  I  see  you  well.  Quite  well.  That's 
well!  " 

"  Mr.  Wolf,"  said  Montague,  as  soon  as  the  doctor  would 
allow  him  to  introduce  the  two  others,  "  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 
Mr.  Pip,   Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

Both  gentlemen  were  exceedingly  happy  to  have  the  honor 
of  making  Mr.  Chuzzlevvit's  acquaintance.  The  doctor  drew 
Jonas  a  little  apart,  and  whispered  behind  his  hand: 

''  Men  of  the  world,  my  dear  sir — men  of  the  world.  Hem! 
Mr.  Wolf — literary  character — you  needn't  mention  it — 
remarkably  clever  weekly  paper — oh,  remarkably  clever! 
Mr.  Pip — theatrical  man — capital  man  to  knoAv — oh,  capital 
man!  " 

"  Well!  "  said  Wolf,  folding  his  arms  and  resuming  a  con- 
versation which  the  arrival  of  Jonas  had  interrupted.  "  And 
what  did  Lord  Nobley  say  to  that  ?  " 

"Why,"  returned  Pip,  with  an  oath,  "he  didn't  know 
what  to  say.  "  Damme,  sir,  if  he  wasn't  as  mute  as  a  poker. 
But  you  know  what  a  good  fellow  Nobley  is!  " 

"  The  best  fellow  in  the  world!"  cried  Wolf.  "It  was 
only  last  week  that  Nobley  said  to  me,  '  By  Gad,  Wolf,  I've 
got  a  living  to  bestow,  and  if  you  had  but  been  brought  up 
at  the  University,  strike  me  blind  if  I  wouldn't  liave  made  a 
parson  of  you!  '  " 

"  Just  like  him,"  said  Pip,  with  another  oath.  "  And  he'd 
have  done  it!  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  Wolf.  "  But  you  were  going  to 
tell  us?—" 

"  Oh,  yes! "  cried    Pip.     "  To   be  sure.     So    I   was.     At 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  453 

first  he  was  dumb — sewn  up,  dead,  sir — but  after  a  minute  he 
said  to  the  duke,  '  Here's  Pip.  Ask  Pip.  Pip's  our  mutual 
friend.  Ask  Pip.  He  knows.'  'Dammel'said  the  duke, 
*  I  appeal  to  Pip  then.  Come,  Pip.  Brandy  or  not  brandy  ? 
Speak  out!  '  'Brandy,  your  grace,  by  the  Lord  Harry!' 
said  I.  '  Ha,  ha  !  '  laughed  the  duke.  '  To  be  sure  she  is. 
Bravo,  Pip.  Well  said,  Pip.  I  wish  I  may  die  if  you're  not 
a  trump,  Pip.  Pop  me  down  among  your  fashionable  visi- 
tors whenever  I'm  in  town,  Pip.'  And  so  I  do,  to  this 
day." 

The  conclusion  of  this  story  gave  immense  satisfaction, 
which  was  in  no  degree  lessened  by  the  announcement  of 
dinner.  Jonas  repaired  to  the  dining-room,  along  with  his 
distinguished  host,  and  took  his.  seat  at  the  board  between 
that  individual  and  his  friend,  the  doctor.  The  rest  fell  into 
their  places  like  men  who  were  well  accustomed  to  the  house; 
and  dinner  was  done  full  justice  to,  by  all  parties. 

It  was  as  good  an  one  as  money  (or  credit,  no  matter 
which)  could  produce.  The  dishes,  wines,  and  fruits  were  of 
the  choicest  kind.  Every  thing  was  elegantly  served.  The 
plate  was  gorgeous.  Mr.  Jonas  was  in  the  midst  of  a  calcu- 
lation of  the  value  of  this  item  alone,  when  his  host  dis- 
turbed him. 

"  A  glass  of  wine  ?  " 

"Oh!  "  said  Jonas,  who  had  had  several  glasses  already. 
"  As  much  of  that  as  you  like!     It's  too  good  to  refuse." 

"Well  said,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit!  "  cried  Vv'olf. 

''  Tom  Gag,  upon  my  soul!  "  said  Pip. 

"  Positively,  you  know,  that's — ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  observed  the 
doctor,  laying  down  his  knife  and  fork  for  one  instant,  and 
then  going  to  work  again,  pell-mell — "  that's  epigrammatic; 
quite!  " 

'*  You're  tolerably  comfortable,  I  hope  ?  "  said  Tigg,  apart 
to  Jonas. 

"  Oh!  You  needn't  trouble  your  head  about  me,"  he 
replied.     "  Famous!  " 

"  I  thought  it  best  not  to  have  a  party,"  said  Tigg.  "  You 
feel  that  ? " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  call  this  ?  "  retorted  Jonas.  '*  You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  you  do  this  every  day,  do  you  ?" 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Montague,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
^'  every  day  of  my  life,  when  I  dine  at  home.  This  is  my 
common  style.  It  was  of  no  use  having  any  thing  uncommon 
for   you.      You'd    have    seen    through  it.     '  You'll    have  a 


454  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

party  ?  *  said  Crimple.     *  No,  I  won't,'  I  said;  *  he  shall  take 
us  in  the  rough  ? '  " 

*'And  pretty  smooth  too,  ecod! "  said  Jonas,  glancing 
round  the  table.     *'  This  don't  cost  a  trifle." 

''  Why,  to  be  candid  with  you,  it  does  not,"  returned  the 
other.  "  But  I  like  this  sort  of  thing.  It's  the  way  I  spend 
my  money." 

Jonas  thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  and  said,  "Was 
it  ? " 

"  When  you  join  us,  you  won't  get  rid  of  your  share  of  the 
profits  in  the  same  way  ?"  said  Tigg. 

"  Quite  different,"  retorted  Jonas. 

"  Well,  you're  right,"  said  Tigg,  with  friendly  can- 
dor. "  You  needn't.  It's  not  necessary.  One  of  a  com- 
pany must  do  it  to  hold  the  connection  together  ;  but  as  I 
take  a  pleasure  in  it,  that's  my  department.  You  don't  mind 
dining  expensively    at  another  man's    expense,  I    hope  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Then  I  hope  you'll  often  dine  with  me  ?  " 

*'  Ah  !  "  said  Jonas,  "  I  don't  mind.     On  the  contrary." 

"  And  I'll  never  attempt  to  talk  business  to  you  overwine^ 
I  take  my  oath,"  said  Tigg.  "  Oh  deep,  deep,  deep  of  you 
this  morning  !  I  must  tell  'em  that.  They're  the  very  men 
to  enjoy  it.  Pip,  my  good  fellow,  I've  a  splendid  little  trait  to 
tell  you  of  my  friend  Chuzzlewit,  who  is  the  deepest  dog  I 
know.  I  give  you  my  sacred  word  of  honor  he  is  the  deepest 
dog  I  know,  Pip  !  " 

Pip  swore  a  frightful  oath  that  he  was  sure  of  it  already  ; 
and  the  anecdote,  being  told,  was  received  with  loud 
applause,  as  an  incontestable  proof  of  Mr.  Jonas's  great- 
ness. Pip  in  a  natural  spirit  of  emulation,  then  related 
some  instances  of  his  own  depth  ;  and  Wolf,  not  to  be  left 
behind-hand,  recited  the  leading  points  of  one  or  two  vastly 
humorous  articles  he  was  then  preparing.  These  lucubra- 
tions, being  of  what  he  called  "  a  warm  complexion,"  were 
highly  approved  ;  and  all  the  company  agreed  that  they 
were  full  of  point. 

''  Men  of  the  world,  my  dear  sir,"  Jobling  whispered  to 
Jonas  ;  ''  thorough  men  of  the  world  !  To  a  professional 
person  like  myself,  it's  quite  refreshing  to  come  into  this  kind 
of  society.  It's  not  only  agreeable — and  nothing  can  be 
more  agreeable — but  it's  philosophically  improving.  It's 
character,  my  dear  sir  ;  character  ! 

It  is  so  pleasant  to  find  real   merit  appreciated,  whatever 


MARTIN  CHUZZLF:\VIT.  455 

its  particular  walk  in  life  may  be,  that  the  general  harmony 
of  the  company  was  doubtless  much  promoted  by  their 
knowing  that  the  two  men  of  the  world  were  held  in  great 
esteem  by  the  upper  classes  of  society,  and  by  the  gallant 
defenders  of  their  country  in  the  army  and  navy,  but  partic- 
ularly the  former.  The  least  of  their  stories  had  a  colonel  in 
it  ;  lords  were  as  plentiful  as  oaths  ;  and  even  the  blood  royal 
ran  in  the  muddy   channel  of  their  personal  recollections. 

''  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  didn't  know  him,  I'm  afraid,"  said 
Wolf,  in  reference  to  a  certain  personage  of  illustrious  de- 
scent, who  had  previously  figured  in  a  reminiscence. 

*'  No,"  said  Tigg.  "  But  we  must  bring  him  into  contact 
with  this  sort  of  fellows." 

*'  He  was  very  fond  of  literature,"  observed  Wolf. 

"  Was  he  ?  "  said  Tigg. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  he  took  my  paper  regularly  for  many  years. 
Do  you  know  he  said  some  good  things  now  and  then  ?  He 
asked  a  certain  viscount,  who's  a  friend  of  mine — Pip 
knows  him — *  What's  the  editor's  name,  what's  the  editor's 
name  ? '  '  Wolf.'  '  Wolf,  eh  ?  Sharp  biter  Wolf.  We  must 
keep  the  Wolf  from  the  door,  as  the  proverb  says.'  It  was 
very  well.     And  being  complimentary,  I  printed  it." 

"  But  the  viscount's  the  boy  !  "  cried  Pip,  who  invented  a 
new  oath  for  the  introduction  of  every  thing  he  said. 
"  The  viscount's  the  boy  !  He  came  into  our  place  one 
night  to  take  her  home  ;  rather  slued,  but  not  much  ;  and 
said,  '  Where's  Pip  ?  I  want  to  see  Pip.  Produce  Pip  !  ' 
— '  What's  the  row,  my  lord  ? ' — *  Shakespeare's  an  infernal 
humbug,  Pip  !  What's  the  good  of  Shakespeare,  Pip  ?  I 
never  read  him.  What  the  devil  is  it  all  about,  Pip  ? 
There's  a  lot  of  feet  in  Shakespeare's  verse,  but  there  ain't 
any  legs  worth  mentioning  in  Shakespeare's  plays,  are  there, 
Pip  ?  Juliet,  Desdemona,  Lady  Macbeth,  and  all  the  rest  of 
*em,  whatever  their  names  are,  might  as  well  have  no  legs 
at  all,  for  any  thing  the  audience  know  about  it,  Pip.  Why, 
in  that  respect  they're  all  Miss  Biffins  to  the  audience,  Pip. 
I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  What  the  people  call  dramatic 
poetry  is  a  collection  of  sermons.  Do  I  go  to  the  theater 
to  be  lectured  ?  No,  Pip.  If  I  wanted  that,  I'd  go  to 
church.  What's  the  legitimate  object  of  the  drama,  Pip  ! 
Human  nature.  What  are  legs  ?  Human  nature.  Then 
let  us  have  plenty  of  leg  pieces,  Pip,  and  I'll  stand  by  you, 
my  buck  !  '  And  I  am  proud  to  say,"  added  Pip,  '^  that  he 
^/V stand  by  me,  handsomely." 


456  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  conversation  now  becoming  general,  Mr.  Jonas's 
opinion  was  requested  on  this  subject  ;  and  as  it  was  in  full 
accordance  with  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Pip,  that  gentleman 
was  extremely  gratified.  Indeed,  both  himself  and  Wolf  had 
so  much  in  common  with  Jonas,  that  they  became  very  ami- 
cable ;  and  between  their  increasing  friendship  and  the  fumes 
of  wine,  Jonas  grew  talkative. 

It  does  not  follow  in  the  case  of  such  a  person  that  the 
more  talkative  he  becomes,  the  more  agreeable  he  is  ;  on  the 
contrary,  his  merits  show  to  most  advantage,  perhaps,  in  sil- 
ence. Having  no  means,  as  he  thought,  of  putting  himself  on 
an  equality  with  the  rest,  but  by  the  assertion  of  that  depth  and 
sharpness  on  which  he  had  been  complimented,  Jonas  ex- 
hibited that  faculty  to  the  utmost;  and  was  so  deep  and  so 
sharp  that  he  lost  himself  in  his  own  profundity,  and  cut  his 
fingers  with  his  own  edge-tools. 

It  was  especially  in  his  way  and  character  to  exhibit  his 
quality  at  his  entertainer's  expense;  and  while  he  drank  of 
the  sparkling  wines,  and  partook  of  his  monstrous  profusion, 
to  ridicule  the  extravagance  which  had  set  such  costly  fare 
before  him.  Even  at  such  a  wanton  board,  and  in  such  more 
than  doubtful  company,  this  might  have  proved  a  disagree- 
able experiment,  but  that  Tigg  and  Crimple,  studying  to 
understand  their  man  thoroughly,  gave  him  what  license  he 
chose  :  knowing  that  the  more  he  took,  the  better  for  their 
purpose.  And  thus  while  the  blundering  cheat — gull  that 
he  was,  for  all  his  cunning — thought  himself  rolled  up  hedge- 
hog fashion,  with  his  sharpest  points  toward  them,  he  was, 
in  fact,  betraying  all  his  vulnerable  parts  to  their  unwinking 
watchfulness. 

Whether  the  two  gentlemen  who  contributed  so  much  to 
the  doctor's  philosophical  knowledge  (by  the  way,  the  doc- 
tor slipped  off  quietly,  after  swallowing  his  usual  amount  of 
wine),  had  had  their  cue  distinctly  from  the  host,  or  took  it 
from  what  they  saw  and  heard,  they  acted  their  parts  very 
well.  They  solicited  the  honor  of  Jonas's  better  acquaint- 
ance ;  trusted  that  they  would  have  the  pleasure  of  introduc- 
ing him  into  that"  elevated  society  in  which  he  was  so  well 
(pialified  to  shine;  and  informed  him,  in  the  most  friendly 
manner,  that  the  advantages  of  their  respective  establish- 
ments were  entirely  at  his  control.  In  a  word,  they  said 
**  Be  one  of  us!  "  And  Jonas  said  he  was  infinitely  obliged 
to  them,  and  he  would  be  adding  within  himself,  that  so  long 
as  they  ''  stood  treat,"  there  was  nothing  he  would  like  better. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  457 

After  coffee,  which  was  served  in  the  drawing-room,  there 
was  a  short  interval  (mainly  sustained  by  Pip  and  VVolt),  of 
conversation;  rather  highly  spiced  and  strongly  seasoned. 
When  it  flagged,  Jonas  took  it  up  and  showed  consider- 
able humor  in  appraising  the  furniture;  inquiring  whether 
such  an  article  was  paid  for;  what  it  had  originally  cost; 
and  the  like.  In  all  of  this,  he  was,  as  he  considered,  des- 
perately hard  on  Montague,  and  very  demonstrative  of  his 
own  brilliant  parts. 

Some  champagne  punch  gave  a  new  though  temporary 
fillip  to  the  entertainments  of  the  evening.  For  after  lead- 
ing to  some  noisy  proceedings,  which  v\'ere  not  at  all  intelligi- 
ble, it  ended  in  the  unsteady  departure  of  the  two  gentlemen 
of  the  world,  and  the  slumber  of  Mr.  Jonas  upon  one  of  the 
sofas. 

As  he  could  not  be  made  to  understand  where  he  was,  Mr. 
Bailey  received  orders  to  call  a  hackney-coach,  and  take  him 
home  :  which  that  young  gentleman  roused  himself  from  an 
uneasy  sleep  in  the  hall,  to  do;  it  being  now  almost  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"Is  he  hooked,  do  you  think?"  whispered  Crimple,  as 
himself  and  partner  stood  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room 
observing  him  as  he  lay. 

''Ay!  "  said  Tigg,  in  the  same  tone.  ''With  a  strong  iron, 
perhaps.     Has  Nadgett  been  here  to-night  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  I  went  out  to  him.  Hearing  you  had  company, 
he  went  away." 

''  Why  did  he  do  that  ?  " 

"  He  said  he  would  come  back  early  in  the  morning, 
before  you  were  out  of  bed." 

"  Tell  them  to  be  sure  and  send  him  up  to  my  bedside. 
Hush  !  Here's  the  boy  !  Now,  Mr.  Bailey,  take  this  gen- 
tleman home,  and  see  him  safely  in.  Hallo  here  !  Why, 
Chuzzlewit,  halloa  !  " 

They  got  him  upright  with  some  difficulty,  and  assisted  him 
down  stairs,  where  they  put  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and  tum- 
bled him  into  the  coach.  Mr.  Bailey,  having  shut  him  in, 
mounted  the  box  beside  the  coachman,  and  smoked  his 
cigar  with  an  air  of  particular  satisfaction  ;  the  undertaking 
in  which  he  was  engaged  having  a  free  and  sporting  char 
acter  about  it,  which  was  quite  congenial  to  his  taste. 

Arriving  in  due  time  at  the  house  in  the  City,  Mr.  Bailey 
jumped  down,  and  expressed  the  lively  nature  of  his  feel- 
ings, in  a  knock  :   the  like  of  which  had  probably  not  been 


458  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

heard  in  that  quarter  since  the  great  fire  of  London.  Going 
out  into  the  road  to  observe  the  effect  of  this  feat,  he  saw 
that  a  dim  Ught,  previously  visible  at  an  upper  window,  had 
been  already  removed  and  was  traveling  down  stairs.  To 
obtain  a  foreknowledge  of  the  bearer  of  this  taper,  Mr. 
Bailey  skipped  back  to  the  door  again,  and  put  his  eye  to 
the  keyhole. 

It  was  the  merry  one  herself.  But  sadly,  strangely 
altered  !  So  careworn  and  dejected,  so  faltering  and  full  of 
fear  ;  so  fallen,  humbled,  broken  ;  that,  to  have  seen  her, 
quiet  in  her  coffin,  would  have  been  a  less  surprise. 

She  set  the  light  upon  a  bracket  in  the  hall,  and  laid  her 
hand  upon  her  heart  ;  upon  her  eyes  ;  upon  her  burning  head. 
Then  she  came  on  toward  the  door,  with  such  a  wild  and 
hurried  step,  that  Mr.  Bailey  lost  his  self-possession,  and 
still  had  his  eye  where  the  key-hole  had  been,  when  she 
opened  it. 

"  Aha!  "  said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  an  effort.  "  There  you  are, 
are  you!       What's  the  matter?     Ain't  you  well,  though  !" 

In  the  midst  of  her  astonishment  as  she  recognized  him 
in  his  altered  dress,  so  much  of  her  old  smile  came  back 
to  her  face  that  Bailey  was  glad.  But  next  moment  he 
was  sorry  again,  for  he  saw  tears  standing  in  her  poor  dim 
eyes. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  Bailey.  "  There  ain't  noth- 
ing the  matter.  I've  brought  home  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  He 
ain't  ill.  He's  only  a  little  swipey,  you  know."  Mr.  Bailey 
reeled  in  his  boots,  to  express  intoxication. 

"  Have  you  come  from  Mrs.  Todgers's  ?  "  asked  Merry, 
trembling. 

"Todgers's,  bless  you!  No!"  cried  Mr.  Bailey.  "I 
haven't  got  nothing  to  do  with  Todgers's.  I  cut  that  con- 
nection long  ago.  He's  been  a-dining  with  my  governor  at 
the  West  End.  Didn't  you  know  he  was  a-coming  to  see 
us?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"Oh,  yes!  We're  heavy  swells,  too,  and  so  I  tell  you. 
Don't  you  come  out,  a-catching  cold  in  your  head.  I'll  wake 
him!"  Mr.  Bailey  expressing  in  his  demeanor  a  perfect  con- 
fidence that  he  could  carry  him  in  with  ease,  if  necessary, 
opened  the  coach  door,  let  down  the  steps,  and  giving  Jonas 
a  shake,  cried  "  We've  got  home,  my  flower!  Tumble  up 
then!" 

He  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  respond  to  this 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  459 

appeal,  and  to  come  stumbling  out  of  the  coach  in  a  heap, 
to  the  great  hazard  of  Mr.  Bailey's  person.  When  he  got 
upon  the  pavement,  Mr.  Bailey  first  butted  at  him  in  front, 
and  then  dexterously  propped  him  up  behind;  and  hav- 
ing steadied  him  by  these  means,  he  assisted  him  into  the 
house. 

"  You  go  up  first  with  the  light,"  said  Bailey  to  Mrs. 
Jonas,  "  and  we'll  foller.  Don't  tremble  so.  He  won't  hurt 
you.  When  I've  had  a  drop  too  much,  I'm  full  of  good  natur 
myself." 

She  went  on  before,  and  her  husband  and  Bailey,  by  dint 
of  tumbling  over  each  other,  and  knocking  themselves  about, 
got  at  last  into  the  sitting-room  above  stairs,  where  Jonas 
staggered  into  a  seat. 

"There!  "said  Mr.  Bailey.  "He's  all  right  now.  You 
ain't  got  nothing  to  cry  for,  bless  you  !  He's  righter  than  a 
trivet!  " 

The  ill-favored  brute,  with  dress  awry,  and  sodden  face, 
and  rumpled  hair,  sat  blinking  and  drooping,  and  rolling  his 
idiotic  eyes  about,  until,  becoming  conscious  by  degrees,  he 
recognized  his  wife,  and  shook  his  fist  at  her. 

"Ah!  "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  squaring  his  arms  with  a  sudden 
emotion.  "  What,  you're  wicious,  are  you?  Would  you, 
though!     You'd  better  not!  " 

"  Pray,  go  away!  "  cried  Jonas,  pushing  her  off  with  his 
extended  arm.  "  Look  here!  Look  at  her!  Here's  a  bar- 
gain for  a  man!  " 

"Dear  Jonas!" 

"  Dear  devil!  "  he  replied,  with  a  fierce  gesture.  "  You're 
a  pretty  clog  to  be  tied  to  a  man  for  life,  you  mewling,  white- 
faced  cat!     Get  out  of  my  sight!  " 

"  I  know  you  don't  mean  it,  Jonas.  You  wouldn't  say  it 
if  you  were  sober." 

With  affected  gayety,  she  gave  Bailey  a  piece  of  money, 
and  again  implored  him  to  be  gone.  Her  entreaty  was  so 
earnest,  that  the  boy  had  not  the  heart  to  stay  there.  But 
he  stopped  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  and  listened. 

"I  wouldn't  say  it  if  I  was  sober! "  retorted  Jonas. 
"  You  know  better.  Have  I  never  said  it  when  I  was 
sober?  " 

"  Often,  indeed!  "  she  answered,  through  her  tears. 

"Hark  ye!"  cried  Jonas,  stamping  his  foot  upon  the 
ground.  "  You  made  me  bear  your  pretty  humors  once,  and 
ecod,  I'll  make  you  bear   mine   now!     I   always   promised 


4(5o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

myself  I  would.  I  married  you  that  I  might.  I'll  know 
who's  master,  and  who's  slave  !  " 

"  Heaven  knows  I'm  obedient!  "  said  the  sobbing  girl. 
"  Much  more  so  than  I  ever  thought  to  be!  " 

Jonas  laughed  in  his  drunken  exultation.  "  What!  you're 
finding  it  out,  are  you!  Patience,  and  you  will  in  time! 
Griffins  have  claws,  my  girl.  There's  not  a  pretty  slight  you 
ever  put  upon  me,  nor  a  pretty  trick  you  ever  played  me,  nor 
a  pretty  insolence  you  ever  showed  me,  that  I  won't  payback 
a  hundred-fold.  What  else  did  I  marry  you  for.  Vou,  too!  " 
he  said,  with  coarse  contempt. 

It  might  have  softened  him  to  hear  her  turn  a  little  frag- 
ment of  a  song  he  used  to  say  he  liked;  trying,  with  a  heart 
so  full,  to  win  him  back. 

**  Oho  !  "  he  said,  "  you're  deaf,  are  you  ?  You  don't 
hear  me,  eh  ?  So  much  the  better  for  you.  I  hate  you.  I 
hate  myself,  for  having  been  fool  enough  to  strap  a  pack 
upon  my  back  for  the  pleasure  of  treading  on  it  whenever  I 
choose.  Why,  things  have  opened  to  me,  now,  so  that  I 
might  marry  almost  where  I  liked.  But  I  wouldn't  ;  I'd 
keep  single.  I  ought  to  be  single,  among  the  friends  /  know. 
Instead  of  that,  here  I  am,  tied  like  a  log  to  you.  Pah  ! 
Why  do  you  show  your  pale  face  when  I  come  home  ?  Am 
I  never  to  forget  you  ?  " 

"  How  late  it  is  !  "  she  said,  cheerfully,  opening  the  shut- 
ter after  an  interval  of  silence.     ''  Broad  day,  Jonas  !  " 

''  Broad  day  or  black  night,  what  do  /  care  !  "  was  the 
kind  rejoinder. 

'*  The  night  passed  quickly,  too.  I  don't  mind  sitting  up, 
at  all." 

"  Sit  up  for  me  again,  if  you  dare  !  "  growled  Jonas. 

''  I  was  reading,"  she  proceeded,  ^'  all  night  long.  I  began 
when  you  went  out,  and  read  till  you  came  home  again. 
The  strangest  story,  Jonas  !  And  true,  the  book  says.  I'll 
tell  it  you  to-morrov/." 

"  True,  was  it  ? "  said  Jonas,  doggedly. 

"  So  the  book  says." 

*'  Was  there  any  thing  in  it,  about  a  man's  being  deter- 
mined to  conquer  his  wife,  break  her  spirit,  bend  her  temper, 
crush  all  her  humors  like  so  many  nut-shells — kill  her,  for 
aught  I  know  ? "  said  Jonas. 

"  No.     Not  a  word,"  she  answered  quickly. 

"Ah!"  he  returned.  "That'll  be  a  true  story  though, 
pefore  long  ;  for  all  the  book  says  nothing  about  it.     It's  a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  461 

lying  book,  I  see.  A  fit  book  for  a  lying  reader.  But  you're 
deaf.     I  forgot  that." 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence  ;  and  the  boy  was 
stealing  away,  when  he  heard  her  footstep  on  the  floor,  and 
stopped.  She  went  up  to  him,  as  it  seemed,  and  spoke  lov- 
ingly ;  saying  that  she  would  defer  to  him  in  every  thing, 
and  would  consult  his  wishes  and  obey  them,  and  they  might 
be  very  happy  if  he  would  be  gentle  with  her.  He  answered 
with  an  imprecation,  and — 

Not  with  a  blow  ?  Yes.  Stern  truth  against  the  base- 
souled  villain  ;  with  a  blow. 

No  angry  cries  ;  no  loud  reproaches.  Even  her  weeping 
and  her  sobs  were  stifled  by  her  clinging  round  him.  She 
only  said,  repeating  it  in  agony  of  heart.  How  could  he,  could 
he,  could  he — and  lost  utterance  in  tears. 

Oh  woman,  God  beloved  in  old  Jerusalem  !  The  best 
among  us  need  deal  lightly  with  thy  faults,  if  only  for  the 
punishment  thy  nature  will  endure,  in  bearing  heavy  evi- 
dence against  us,  on  the  Day  of  Judgment  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

IN  WHICH  SOME  PEOPLE  ARE  PRECOCIOUS,  OTHERS  PROFESSIONAL 
AND  OTHERS  MYSTERIOUS  :  ALL  IN  THEIR  SEVERAL  WAYS. 

It  may  have  been  the  restless  remembrance  of  what  he 
had  seen  and  heard  overnight,  or  it  may  have  been  no  deeper 
mental  operation  than  the  discovery  that  he  had  nothing  to 
do,  which  caused  Mr.  Bailey,  on  the  following  afternoon,  to 
feel  particularly  disposed  for  agreeable  society,  and 
prompted  him  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  friend  Poll  Sweedlepipe. 

On  the  little  bell  giving  clamorous  notice  of  a  visitor's 
approach  (for  Mr.  Bailey  came  in  at  the  door  with  a  lunge, 
to  get  as  much  sound  out  of  the  bell  as  possible).  Poll 
Sweedlepipe  desisted  from  the  contemplation  of  a  favorite 
owl,  and  gave  his  young  friend  hearty  welcome. 

"  Why,  you  look  smarter  by  day,"  said  Poll,  **  than  you 
do  by  candle-light.     I  never  see  such  a  tight  young  dasher." 

"  Reether  so,  Polly.     How's  our  fair  friend  Sairah  ? " 

*'  Oh,  she's  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.     "  She's  at  home." 

"  There's  the  remains  of  a  fine  woman  about  Sairah,  Poll," 
observed  Mr.  Bailey,  with  genteel  indifference. 

*'  Oh  !  "  thought  Poll,  "  he's  old.     Pie  must  be  very  old  !  " 


462  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Too  much  crumb,  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Bailey  ;  "  too 
fat,  Poll.     But  there's  many  worse  at  her  time  of  life." 

''  The  very  owl's  a-opening  his  eyes  !  "  thought  Poll.  *'  I 
don't  wonder  at  it,  in  a  bird  of  his  opinions." 

He  happened  to  have  been  sharpening  his  razors,  which 
were  lying  open  in  a  row,  while  a  huge  strop  dangled  from 
the  wall.  Glancing  at  these  preparations,  Mr.  Bailey  stroked 
his  chin,  and  a  thought  appeared  to  occur  to  him. 

"  Poll,"  he  said,  "  I  ain't  as  neat  as  I  could  wish  about  the 
gills.  Being  here,  I  may  as  well  have  a  shave,  and  get 
trimmed  close." 

The  barber  stood  aghast;  but  Mr.  Bailey  divested  him- 
self of  his  neck-cloth,  and  sat  down  in  the  easy  shaving-chair 
with  all  the  dignity  and  confidence  in  life.  There  was  no 
resisting  his  manner.  The  evidence  of  sight  and  touch 
became  as  nothing.  His  chin  was  as  smooth  as  a  new-laid 
egg  or  a  scraped  Dutch  cheese;  but  Poll  Sweedlepipe 
wouldn't  have  ventured  to  deny,  on  affidavit,  that  he  had  the 
beard  of  a  Jewish  rabbi. 

"  Go  7mf/i  the  grain.  Poll,  all  round,  please,"  said  Mr. 
Bailey,  screwing  up  his  face  for  the  reception  of  the  lather. 
''  You'may  do  wot  you  like  with  the  bits  of  whisker.  I 
don't  care  for  'em." 

The  meek  little  barber  stood  gazing  at  him  with  the  brush 
and  soap-dish  in  his  hand,  stirring  them  round  and  round 
in  a  ludicrous  uncertainty,  as  if  he  were  disabled  by  some 
fascination  from  beginning.  At  last  he  made  a  dash  at  Mr. 
Bailey's  cheek.  Then  he  stopped  again,  as  if  the  ghost  of  a 
beard  had  suddenly  receded  from  his  touch;  but  receiving 
mild  encouragement  from  Mr.  Bailey,  in  form  of  an  adjura- 
tion to  "  Go  in  and  win,"  he  lathered  him  bountifully.  Mr. 
Bailey  smiled  through  the  suds  in  his  satisfaction. 

"  Gently  over  the  stones.  Poll.  Go  a  tip-toe  over  the 
pimples  !  " 

Poll  Sweedlepipe  obeyed,  and  scraped  the  lather  off  again 
with  particular  care.  Mr.  Bailey  squinted  at  every  suc- 
cessive dab,  as  it  was  deposited  on  a  cloth  on  his  left 
shoulder,  and  seemed  with  a  jnicroscopic  eye,  to  detect  some 
bristles  in  it;  for  he  murmured  more  than  once,  "  Reether 
redder  than  I  could  wish.  Poll."  The  operation  being  con- 
cluded. Poll  fell  back  and  stared  at  him  again,  while  Mr. 
Bailey,  wiping  his  face  on  the  jack-towel,  remarked,  ''  that 
arter  late  hours  nothing  freshened  up  a  man  so  much  as  a 
easy  shave." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  463 

He  was  in  the  act  of  tying  his  cravat  at  the  glass,  without 
his  coat,  and  Poll  had  wiped  his  razor,  ready  for  the  next 
customer,  when  Mrs.  Gamp,  coming  down  stairs,  looked  in 
at  the  shop-door  to  give  the  barber  neighborly  good-day. 
Feeling  for  her  unfortunate  situation,  in  having  conceived 
a  regard  for  himself  which  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things 
that  he  could  return,  Mr.  Bailey  hastened  to  soothe  her  with 
words  of  kindness. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  said,  "  Sairah  !  I  needn't  ask  you  how  you've 
been  this  long  time,  for  you're  in  full  bloom.  All  a  blowin' 
and  a  growin';  ain't  she,  Polly  ?  " 

"  Why,  drat  the  Bragian  boldness  of  that  boy  !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Gamp,  though  not  displeased.  "  What  a  imperent 
young  sparrow  it  is  !  I  wouldn't  be  that  creetur's  mother  not 
for  fifty  pound  !  " 

Mr.  Bailey  regarded  this  as  a  delicate  confession  of  her 
attachment,  and  a  hint  that  no  pecuniary  gain  could  recom- 
pense her  for  its  being  rendered  hopeless.  He  felt  flattered. 
Disinterested  affection  is  always  flattering. 

*'  Ah,  dear !  "  moaned  Mrs.  Gamp,  sinking  into  the 
shaving  chair.  "  That  there  blessed  Bull,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe, 
has  done  his  wery  best  to  conker  me.  Of  all  the  trying 
inwalieges  in  this  walley  of  the  shadder,  that  one  beats  'em 
black  and  blue." 

It  was  the  practice  of  Mrs.  Gamp  and  her  friends  in  the 
profession,  to  say  this  of  all  the  easy  customers;  as  having  at 
once  the  effect  of  discouraging  competitors  for  office,  and 
accounting  for  the  necessity  of  high  living  on  the  part  of  the 
nurses. 

"Talk  of  constitooshun  ! "  Mrs.  Gamp  observed.  "A 
person's  constitooshun  need  be  made  of  bricks  to  stand  it. 
Mrs.  Harris  jestly  says  to  me,  but  t'other  day,  *  Oh  !  Sairey 
Gamp,'  she  says,  '  how  is  it  done  ?'  '  Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am,' 
I  says  to  her,  '  we  gives  no  trust  ourselves,  and  puts  a  deal  o' 
trust  elsevere;  these  is  our  religious  feelins,  and  we  finds 
'em  answer.'  '  Sairey,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  '  sech  is  life.  Vich 
likeways  is  the  hend  of  all  things  ! '  " 

The  barber  gave  a  soft  murmur,  as  much  as  to  say  that 
Mrs.  Harris's  remark,  though  perhaps  not  quite  so  intelligi- 
ble as  could  be  desired  from  such  an  authority,  did  equal 
honor  to  her  head  and  to  her  heart. 

"And  here,"  continued  Mrs.  Gamp,  "and  here  am  I  a 
goin  twenty  mile  in  distant,  on  as  wentersome  a  chance  as 
ever  any  one  as  monthlied  ever  run,  I  do  believe.    Says  Mrs. 


464  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Harris,  with  a  woman's  and  a  mother's  art  a  beatin  in  her 
human  breast,  she  says  to  me,  *  You're  not  a  goin,  Sairey, 
Lord  forgive  you  ! '  *  Why  am  I  not  a  goin,  Mrs.  Harris  ? ' 
I  replies.  'Mrs.  Gill,'  I  says,  '  wos  never  wrong  with  six; 
and  is  it  likely,  ma'am — I  ask  you  as  a  mother — that  she  will 
begin  to  be  unreg'lar  now.  Often  and  often  have  I  heerd 
him  say,'  I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris,  meaning  Mr.  Gill,  '  that  he 
would  back  his  wife  agen  Moore's  almanack,  to  name  the  very 
day  and  hour,  for  ninepence  farden.  Is  it  likely,  ma'am,'  I  says, 
*  as  she  will  fail  this  once  ? '  says  Mrs.  Harris,  *  No,  ma'am, 
not  in  the  course  of  nater.  But,'  she  says,  the  tears  filling  in 
her  eyes,  '  you  knows  much  betterer  than  me,  with  your 
experienge,  how  little  puts  us  out.  A  Punch's  show,'  she 
says,  '  a  chimbley  sweep,  a  newfundlan  dog,  or  a  drunkin 
man  comin  round  the  corner  sharp,  may  do  it.'  So  it  may, 
Mr.  Sweedlepipes,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  there's  no  deniging  of 
it ;  and  though  my  books  is  clear  for  a  full  week,  I  takes  a 
anxious  art  along  with  me,  I  do  assure  you,  sir." 

*'  You're  so  full  of  zeal,  you  see  !  "  said  Poll.  ''You  worrit 
yourself  so." 

"  Worrit  myself  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  raising  her  hands 
and  turning  up  her  eyes.  ''  You  speak  truth  in  that,  sir,  if 
you  never  speaks  no  more,  'twixt  this  and  when  two  Sundays 
jines  together.  I  feels  the  sufferins  of  other  people  more 
than  I  feels  my  own,  though  no  one  mayn't  suppoge  it.  The 
families  I've  had,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "if  all  was  knowed, 
and  credit  done  where  credit's  doo,  would  take  a  week  to 
chris'en  at  Saint  Polge's  fontin  \  " 

"  Where's  the  patient  goin  ?  "  asked  Sweedlepipe. 

'*  Into  Har'fordshire,  which  is  his  native  air.  But  native 
airs  nor  native  graces  neither,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  "won't 
bring  him  round." 

"  So  bad  as  that  ? "  inquired  the  wistful  barber. 
"  Indeed  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  shook  her  head  mysteriously,  and  pursed  up 
her  lips.  "There's  fevers  of  the  mind,"  she  said,  "as  well 
as  body.  You  may  take  your  slime  drafts  till  you  flies  into 
the  air  with  efferwescence  ;  but  you  won't  cure  that." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  barber,  opening  his  eyes,  and  putting  on 
his  raven  aspect.     "  Lor  !  " 

"  No.  You  may  make  yourself  as  light  as  any  gash  bal- 
loon," said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  talk,  when  you're  wrong  in 
your  head,  and  when  you're  in  your  sleep,  of  certain  things; 
aflcj  yeu'U  be  heavy  in  ygur  mind/' 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  465 

"  Of  what  kind  of  things  now  ?  "  inquired  Poll,  greedily 
biting  his  nails  in  his  great  interest.     *'  Ghosts  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp,  who  perhaps  had  been  already  tempted  fur- 
ther than  she  intended  to  go,  by  the  barber's  stimulating 
curiosity,  gave  a  sniff  of  uncommon  significance,  and  said,  it 
didn't  signify. 

"  I'm  a  going  down  with  my  patient  in  the  coach  this  arter- 
noon,"  she  proceeded.  "  I'm  a  going  to  stop  with  him  a  day 
or  so,  till  he  gets  a  country  nuss  (drat  them  country  nusses, 
much  the  orkard  hussies  knows  about  their  bis'ness)  ;  and 
then  I'm  acomin'  back  ;  and  that's  my  trouble,  Mr.  Sweedle- 
pipes.  But  I  hope  that  everythink'll  only  go  on  right  and 
comfortable  as  long  as  I'm  away  ;  perwisin  which,  as  Mrs. 
Harris  says,  Mrs.  Gill  is  welcome  to  choose  her  own  time  : 
all  times  of  the  day  and  night  bein'  equally  the  same  to 
me." 

During  the  progress  of  the  foregoing  remarks,  which  Mrs. 
Gamp  had  addressed  exclusively  to  the  barber,  Mr.  Bailey 
had  been  tying  his  cravat,  getting  on  his  coat  and  making 
hideous  faces  at  himself  in  the  glass.  Being  now  personally 
addressed  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  he  turned  round,  and  mingled  in 
the  conversation. 

"  You  ain't  been  in  the  City,  I  suppose,  sir,  since  we  was 
all  three  there  together,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  *'  at  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit's?" 

"  Yes,  I  have,  Sairah.     I  was  there  last  night." 

"  Last  night  !  "  cried  the  barber. 

"Yes,  Poll,  reether  so.  You  can  call  it  this  morning  if  you 
like  to  be  particular.     He  dined  with  us." 

"  Who  does  that  young  limb  mean  by  '  hus  ? '  "  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  with  most  impatient  emphasis. 

'*  Me  and  my  governor,  Sairah.  He  dined  at  our  house. 
We  wos  very  merry,  Sairah.  So  much  so,  that  I  was  obliged 
to  see  him  home  in  a  hackney  coach  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning."  It  was  on  the  tip  of  the  boy's  tongue  to  relate 
what  had  followed  ;  but  remembering  how  easily  it  might  be 
carried  to  his  master's  ears,  and  the  repeated  cautions  he 
had  had  from  Mr.  Crimple  ''  not  to  chatter,"  he  checked 
himself  :  adding  only,  *' She  was  sitting  up,  expecting  him." 

"  And  all  things  considered,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  sharply, 
"  she  might  have  know'd  better  than  to  go  a  tiring  herself 
out,  by  doin'  anythink  of  the  sort.  Did  they  seem  pretty 
pleasant  together,  sir  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Bailey,  "  pleasant  enough." 


46(3  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  I'm  glad  on  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  second  sniff  of 
significance. 

"  They  haven't  been  married  so  long,"  observed  Poll, 
rubbing  his  hands,  "  that  they  need  be  any  thing  but  pleas- 
ant yet  awhile." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  third  significant  signal. 

"  Especially,"  pursued  the  barber,  "  when  the  gentleman 
bears  such  a  character  as  you  gave  him." 

"  I  speak  as  I  find,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Forbid  it  should  be  otherwise  !  But  we  never  know  wot's 
hidden  in  each  other's  hearts  ;  and  if  we  had  glass  winders 
there,  we'd  need  keep  the  shetters  up,  some  on  us,  I  do 
assure  you  !  " 

*'  But  you  don't  mean  to  say — "  Poll  Sweedlepipe   began. 

''  No,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  cutting  him  very  short,  "  I  don't. 
Don't  think  I  do.  The  torters  of  the  imposition  shouldn't 
make  me  own  I  did.  '^  All  I  say  is,"  added  the  good  woman 
rising  and  folding  her  shawl  about  her,  "'  that  the  Bull's  a 
waitin',  and  the  precious  moments  is  a  flyin'  fast." 

The  little  barber  having  in  his  eager  curiosity  a  great 
desire  to  see  Mrs.  Gamp's  patient,  proposed  to  Mr.  Bailey 
that  they  should  accompany  her  to  the  Bull,  and  witness  the 
departure  of  the  coach.  That  young  gentleman  assenting, 
they  all  went  out  together. 

Arriving  at  the  tavern,  Mrs.  Gamp  (who  was  full-dressed 
for  the  journey,  in  her  latest  suit  of  mourning),  left  her  friends 
to  entertain  themselves  in  the  yard,  while  she  ascended  to 
the  sick  room,  where  her  fellow-laborer  Mrs.  Prig  was 
dressing  the  invalid. 

He  was  so  wasted,  that  it  seemed  as  if  his  bones  would 
rattle  when  they  moved  him.  His  cheeks  were  sunken,  and 
his  eyes  unnaturally  large.  He  lay  back  in  the  easy-chair 
like  one  more  dead  than  living  ;  and  rolled  his  languid  eyes 
toward  the  door  when  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared,  as  painfully  as 
if  their  weight  alone  were  burdensome  to  move. 

'^  And  how  are  we  by  this  time  ?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  observed. 
"We  looks  charming." 

"  We  looks  a  deal  charminger  than  we  are,  then,"  returned 
Mrs.  Prig,  a  little  chafed  in  her  temper.  "  We  got  out  of 
bed  back'ards,  I  think,  for  we're  as  cross  as  two  sticks.  I 
never  see  sich  a  man.  He  wouldn't  have  been  washed,  if 
he'd  had  his  own  way." 

"  She  put  the  soap  in  my  mouth,"  said  the  unfortunate 
patient,  feebly. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  467 

"  Couldn't  you  keep  it  shut  then  ? "  retorted  Mrs.  Prig. 
"  Who  do  you  think's  to  wash  one  feater,  and  miss  another, 
and  wear  one's  eyes  out  with  all  manner  of  fine-work  of  that 
description,  for  half-a-crown  a  day  !  If  you  wants  to  be 
tittivated,"you  must  pay  accordin'." 

"  Oh  dear  me  !  "  cried  the  patient,  "  oh  dear,  dear  !  " 

"There!"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  "that's  the  way  he's  been  a 
conducting  of  himself,  Sarah,  ever  since  I  got  him  out  of 
bed,  if  you'll  believe  it." 

"  Instead  of  being  grateful,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  "  for 
all  our  little  ways.     Oh,  fie,  for  shame,  sir,  fie,  for  shame  !  " 

Here  Mrs.  Prig  seized  the  patient  by.  the  chin,  and  began 
to  rasp  his  unhappy  head  with  a  hair-brush. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  like  that,  neither  !  "  she  observed, 
stooping  to  look  at  him. 

It  was  just  possible  that  he  didn't,  for  the  brush  was  a 
specimen  of  the  hardest  kind  of  instrument  producible  by 
modern  art  ;  and  his  very  eyelids  were  red  with  the  friction. 
Mrs.  Prig  was  gratified  to  observe  the  correctness  of  her  sup- 
position, and  said  triumphantly,  "  she  know'd  as  much." 

When  his  hair  was  smoothed  down  comfortably  into  his 
eyes,  Mrs.  Prig  and  Mrs  Gamp  put  on  his  neckerchief  ; 
adjusting  his  shirt-collar  with  great  nicety,  so  that  the 
starched  points  should  also  invade  those  organs,  and  afflict 
them  with  an  artificial  ophthalmia.  His  waistcoat  and  coat 
were  next  arranged  ;  and  as  every  button  was  wrenched  into 
a  wrong  button-hole,  and  the  order  of  his  boots  was  reversed, 
he  presented  on  the  whole  rather  a  melancholy  appearance. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  right,"  said  the  poor  weak  invalid.  "  I 
feel  as  if  I  was  in  somebody  else's  clothes.  I'm  all  on  one 
side  ;  and  you've  made  one  of  my  legs  shorter  than  the 
other.  There's  a  bottle  in  my  pocket  too.  What  do  you 
make  me  sit  upon  a  bottle  for  ? " 

"Deuce  take  the  man!"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  drawing  it 
forth.  "  If  he  ain't  been  and  got  my  night  bottle  here.  I 
made  a  little  cupboard  of  his  coat  when  it  hung  behind  the 
door,  and  quite  forgot  it,  Betsey.  You'll  find  an  ingun  or  two, 
and  a  little  tea  and  sugar  in  his  t'other  pocket,  my  dear,  if 
you'll  just  be  good  enough  to  take  'em  out." 

Betsey  produced  the  property  in  question,  together  with 
some  other  articles  of  general  chandlery  ;  and  Mrs.  Gamp 
transferred  them  to  her  own  pocket,  which  was  a  species  of 
nankeen  pannier.  Refreshment  then  arrived  in  the  form  of 
chops  and  strong  ale,  for  the  ladies,  and  a  basin  of  beef-tea 


468  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

for  the  patient  ;  which  refection  was  barely  at  an  end  when 
John  Westlock  appeared. 

''  Up  and  dressed  !  "  cried  John,  sitting  down  beside  him, 
"  That's  brave.     How  do  you  feel  ?  " 

"  Much  better.     But  very  weak." 

"  No  wonder.  You  have  had  a  hard  bout  of  it.  But  country 
air,  and  change  of  scene,"  said  John,  "  will  make  another 
man  of  you  !  Why,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  he  added,  laughing,  as  he 
kindly  arranged  the  sick  man's  garments,  "  you  have  odd 
notions  of  a  gentleman's  dress  !  " 

"  Mr.  Lewsome  ain't  a  easy  gent  to  get  into  his  clothes, 
sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied  with  dignity;  "as  me  and  Betsey 
Prig  can  certify  afore  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Uncommon 
Counselors,  if  needful  !  " 

John  was  at  that  moment  standing  close  in  front  of  the 
sick  man  in  the  act  of  releasing  him  from  the  torture  of  the 
collars  before  mentioned,  when  he  said  in  a  whisper: 

*'  Mr.  Westlock  !  I  don't  wish  to  be  overhead.  I  have 
something  very  particular  and  strange  to  say  to  you:  some- 
thing that  has  been  a  dreadful  weight  on  my  mind,  through 
this  long  illness." 

Quick  in  all  his  motions,  John  was  turning  round  to  desire 
the  women  to  leave  the  room:  when  the  sick  man  held  him 
by  the  sleeve. 

"  Not  now.  I've  not  the  strength.  I've  not  the  courage. 
May  I  tell  it  when  I  have  ?  May  I  write  it,  if  I  find  that 
easier  and  better  ?  " 

"May  you!"  cried  John.  "Why,  Lewsome,  what  is 
this  ? " 

"  Don't  ask  me  what  it  is.  It's  unnatural  and  cruel. 
Frightful  to  think  of.  Frightful  to  tell.  Frightful  to  know. 
Frightful  to  have  helped  in.  Let  me  kiss  your  hand  for  all 
your  goodness  to  me.  Be  kinder  still,  and  don't  ask  me  what 
it  is  !  " 

At  first,  John  gazed  at  him,  in  great  surprise;  but  remem- 
bering how  very  much  reduced  he  was,  and  how  recently 
his  brain  had  been  on  fire  with  fever,  believed  that  he  was 
laboring  under  some  imaginary  horror,  or  despondent  fancy. 
For  further  information  on  this  point,  he  took  an  opportunity 
of  drawing  Mrs.  Gamp  aside,  while  Betsey  Prig  was  wrapping 
him  in  cloaks  and  shawls,  and  asked  her  whether  he  was 
quite  collected  in  his  mind. 

"  Oh  bless  you,  no  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  He  hates  his 
nusses  to  this  hour.     They  always  does  it,  sir.     It's  a  certain 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  409 

sign.  If  you  could  have  heerd  the  poor  dear  soul  a  findin' 
fault  with  me  and  Betsey  Prig,  not  half  an  hour  ago,  you 
would  have  wondered  how  it  is  we  don't  get  fretted  to  the 
tomb." 

This  almost  confirmed  John  in  his  suspicion;  so,  not 
taking  what  had  passed  into  any  serious  account,  he  resumed 
his  former  cheerful  manner,  and,  assisted  by  Mrs.  Gamp  and 
Betsey  Prig,  conducted  Lewsome  down  stairs  to  the  coach: 
just  then  upon  the  point  of  starting. 

Poll  Sweedlepipe  was  at  the  door  with  his  arms  tight 
folded  and  his  eyes  wade  open,  and  looked  on  with  absorbing 
interest,  while  the  sick  man  was  slowly  moved  into  the 
vehicle.  His  bony  hands  and  haggard  face  impressed  Poll 
wonderfully  ;  and  he  informed  Mr.  Bailey,  in  confidence, 
that  he  wouldn't  have  missed  seeing  him  for  a  pound.  Mr. 
Bailey,  who  was  of  a  different  constitution,  remarked,  that  he 
would  have  staid  away  for  five  shillings. 

It  was  a  troublesome  matter  to  adjust  Mrs.  Gamp's  lug- 
gage to  her  satisfaction;  for  every  package  belonging  to  that 
lady  had  the  inconvenient  property  of  requiring  to  be  put  in 
a  boot  by  itself,  and  to  have  no  other  luggage  near  it,  on 
pain  of  actions  at  law  for  heavy  damages  against  the  proprie» 
tors  of  the  coach.  The  umbrella  with  the  circular  patch  was 
particularly  hard  to  be  got  rid  of,  and  several  times  thrust 
out  its  battered  brass  nozzle  from  improper  crevices  and 
chinks,  to  the  great  terror  of  the  other  passengers.  Indeed, 
in  her  intense  anxiety  to  find  a  haven  of  refuge  for  this 
chattle,  Mrs.  Gamp  so  often  moved  it,  in  the  course  of  five 
minutes,  that  it  seemed  not  one  umbrella  but  fifty.  At 
length  it  was  lost,  or  said  to  be;  and  for  the  next  five  minutes 
she  was  face  to  face  with  the  coachman,  go  wherever  he 
might,  protesting  that  it  should  be  "  made  good,"  though  she 
took  the  question  to  the  House  of  Commons. 

At  last,  her  bundle,  and  her  pattens,  and  her  basket,  and 
every  thing  else,  being  disposed  of,  she  took  a  friendly  leave 
of  Poll  and  Mr.  Bailey,  dropped  a  courtesy  to  John  Westlock 
and  parted  as  from  a  cherished  member  of  the  sisterhood 
with  Betsey  Prig. 

*'  Wishin'  you  lots  of  sickness,  my  darling  creetur,"  Mrs. 
Gamp  observed,  "  and  good  places.  It  won't  be  long,  I  hope, 
afore  we  works  together,  off  and  on,  again,  Betsey;  and  may 
our  next  meetin'  be  at  a  large  family's,  where  they  all  takes  it 
reg'lar,  one  from  another,  turn  and  turn  about,  and  has  it 
business-like." 


470  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"I  don't  care  how  soon  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Prig;  "  nor  how 
many  weeks  it  lasts." 

Mrs.  Gamp  with  a  reply  in  a  congenial  spirit  was  backing 
to  the  coach,  when  she  came  in  contact  with  a  lady  and 
gentleman  who  were  passing  along  the  footway. 

"Take  care,  take  care  here!"  cried  the  gentleman. 
"Halloo!     My  dear!     Why,  it's  Mrs.   Gamp!" 

"What,  Mr.  Mould!  "  exclaimed  the  nurse.  "And  Mrs. 
Mould!  who  would  have  thought  as  we  should  ever  have  a 
meetin'  here,  I'm  sure!  " 

"  Going  out  of  town,  Mrs.  Gamp?  "  cried  Mould.  "  That's 
unusual,  isn't  it? " 

"  It  is  unusual,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  only  for  a 
day  or  two  at  most.  The  gent,"  she  whispered,  "  as  I  spoke 
about." 

"  What,  in  the  coach!"  cried  Mould.  "  The  one  you 
thought  of  recommending  ?  Very  odd.  My  dear,  this  will 
interest  you.  The  gentleman  that  Mrs.  Gamp  thought 
likely  to  suit  us,  is  in  the  coach,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Mould  was  greatly  interested. 

"  Here,  my  dear.  You  can  stand  upon  the  door-step," 
said  Mould,  "  and  take  a  look  at  him.  Ha!  There  he  is. 
Where's  my  glass  ?  Oh  !  all  right.  I've  got  it.  Do  you  see 
him,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Quite  plain,"  said  Mrs.  Mould. 

"  Upon  my  life,  you  know,  this  is  a  very  singular  circum- 
stance," said  Mould,  quite  delighted.  "  This  is  the  sort  of 
thing,  my  dear,  I  wouldn't  have  missed  on  any  account.  It 
tickles  one.  It's  interesting.  It's  almost  a  little  play,  you 
know.  Ah  !  There  he  is  !  To  be  sure.  Looks  poorly, 
Mrs.  M.,  don't  he  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mould  assented. 

"  He's  coming  our  way,  perhaps,  after  all,"  said  Mould. 
"  Who  knows  !  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  show  him  some  little 
attention,  really.  He  don't  seem  a  stranger  to  me.  I'm 
very  much  inclined  to  move  my  hat,  my  dear." 

"  He's  looking  hard  this  way,"  said  Mrs.  Mould. 

"  Then  I  will  !  "  cried  Mould.  "  How  d'ye  do,  sir?  I 
wish  you  good  day.  Ha !  He  bows  too.  Very  gentle- 
manly. Mrs.  Gamp  has  the  cards  in  her  pocket,  I  have  no 
doubt.  This  is  very  singular,  my  dear — and  very  pleasant. 
I  am  not  superstitious,  but  it  really  seems  as  if  one  was 
destined  to  pay  him  those  little  melancholy  civilities  which 
belong  to  our  peculiar  line  of  business.     There  can  be  no 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  471 

kind  of  objection  to  your  kissing  your  hand  to  him,  my 
dear." 

Mrs.  Mould  did  so. 

"  Ha  I  "  said  Mould.  "  He's  evidently  gratified.  Poor 
fellow  !  I'm  quite  glad  you  did  it,  my  love.  By-by,  Mrs. 
Gamp  !  "  waving  his  hand.  ''  There  he  goes  ;  there  he 
goes  !  " 

So  he  did  ;  for  the  coach  rolled  off  as  the  words  were 
spoken.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mould,  in  high  good  humor,  went 
their  merry  way.  Mr.  Bailey  retired  with  Poll  Sweedlepipe 
as  soon  as  possible  ;  but  some  little  time  elapsed  before  he 
could  remove  his  friend  from  the  ground,  owing  to  the 
impression  wrought  upon  the  barber's  nerves  by  Mrs.  Prig, 
whom  he  pronounced,  in  admiration  of  her  beard,  to  be  a 
woman  of  transcendent  charms. 

When  the  light  cloud  of  bustle  hanging  round  the  coach 
was  thus  dispersed,  Nadgett  was  seen  in  the  darkest  box  of 
the  Bull  coffee-room,  looking  wistfully  up  at  the  clock — as  if 
the  man  who  never  appeared  were  a  little  behind  his  time. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PROVES  THAT  CHANGES  MAY  BE  RUNG  IN  THE  BEST- REGU- 
LATED FAMILIES,  AND  THAT  MR.  PECKSNIFF  WAS  A  SPECIAL 
HAND  AT  A  TRIPLE-BOB-MAJOR. 

As  the  surgeon's  first  care  after  amputating  a  limb  is  to 
take  up  the  arteries  the  cruel  knife  has  severed,  so  it  is  the 
duty  of  this  history,  which  in  its  remorseless  course  has  cut 
from  the  Pecksniffian  trunk  its  right  arm,  Mercy,  to  look  to 
the  parent  stem,  and  see  how  in  all  its  various  ramifications 
it  got  on  without  her. 

And  first  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  it  may  be  observed,  that  having 
provided  for  his  younger  daughter  that  choicest  of  blessings, 
a  tender  and  indulgent  husband  ;  and  having  gratified  the 
dearest  wish  of  his  parental  heart  by  establishing  her  in  life 
so  happily  ;  he  renewed  his  youth,  and  spreading  the  plu- 
mage of  his  own  bright  conscience,  felt  himself  equal  to  all 
kinds  of  flights.  It  is  customary  with  fathers  in  stage-plays, 
after  giving  their  daughters  to  the  men  of  their  hearts,  to 
congratulate  themselves  on  having  no  other  business  on 
their  hands  but  to  die  immediately  :  though  it  is  rarely 
found    that  they  are  in  a  hurry  to  do  it.      Mr.   Pecksniff, 


472  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

being  a  father  of  a  more  sage  and  practical  class,  appeared 
to  think  that  his  immediate  business  was  to  live  ;  and  having 
deprived  himself  of  one  comfort,  to  surround  himself  with 
others. 

But  however  much  inclined  the  good  man  was  to  be  jocose 
and  playful,  and  in  the  garden  of  his  fancy  to  disport  him- 
self (if  one  may  say  so),  like  an  architectural  kitten,  he  had 
one  impediment  constantly  opposed  to  him.  The  gentle 
Cherry,  stung  by  a  sense  of  slight  and  injury,  which  far 
from  softening  down  or  wearing  out,  rankled  and  festered 
in  her  heart, — the  gentle  Cherry  was  in  flat  rebellion.  She 
waged  fierce  war  against  her  dear  papa;  she  led  her  parent 
what  is  usually  called,  for  want  of  a  better  figure  of  speech, 
the  life  of  a  dog.  But  never  did  that  dog  live,  in  kennel, 
stable-yard,  or  house,  whose  life  was  half  as  hard  as  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  with  his  gentle  child. 

The  father  and  daughter  were  sitting  at  their  breakfast. 
Tom  had  retired,  and  they  were  alone.  Mr.  Pecksniff 
frowned  at  first ;  but  having  cleared  his  brow,  looked 
stealthily  at  his  child.  Her  nose  was  very  red  indeed, 
and  screwed  up  tight  with  hostile  preparation. 

"Cherry,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "what  is  amiss  between 
us  ?     My  child,  why  are  we  disunited  ?  " 

Miss  Pecksniff's  answer  w^as  scarcely  a  response  to  this 
gush  of  affection,  for  it  was  simply,  "  Bother,  pa  !" 

"Bother!"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  tone  of  anguish. 

"Oh!  'tis  too  late,  pa,"  said  his  daughter,  calmly,  "to 
talk  to  me  like  this.  I  know  what  it  means,  and  what  its 
value  is." 

"  This  is  hard  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  addressing  his 
breakfast-cup.  "  This  is  very  hard  !  She  is  my  child.  I 
carried  her  in  my  arms,  when  she  wore  shapeless  worsted 
shoes — I  might  say,  mufflers — many  years  ago  !  " 

"  You  needn't  taunt  me  with  that,  pa,"  retorted  Cherry, 
with  a  spiteful  look.  "  I  am  not  so  many  years  older  than 
my  sister,  either,  though  she  is  married  to  your  friend  !  " 

"  Ah,  human  nature,  human  nature!  Poor  human  nature!" 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  at  human  nature,  as  if 
he  didn't  belong  to  it.  "  To  think  that  this  discord  should 
arise  from  such  a  cause!  oh  dear,  oh  dear!  " 

"  From  such  a  cause  indeed!  "  cried.  Cherry.  "  State  the 
real  cause,  pa,  or  I'll  state  it  myself.     Mind!     I  will!  " 

Perhaps  the  energy  with  which  she  said  this  was  infectious. 
However  that    may  be,  Mr.  Pecksniff  changed  his  tone  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  473 

the  expression  of  his  face,  for  one  of  anger  if  not  downright 
violence,  when  he  said  : 

"  You  will!  you  have.  You  did  yesterday.  You  do  al- 
ways. You  have  no  decency  ;  you  make  no  secret  of  your 
temper  ;  you  have  exposed  yourself  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  a 
hundred  times." 

"  Myself !"  cried  Cherry,  with  a  bitter  smile.  "Oh,  in- 
deed !     I  don't  mind  that." 

"  Me    too,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

His  daughter  answered  with  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  And  since  we  have  come  to  an  explanation.  Charity," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  rolling  his  head  portentously,  "  let  me 
tell  you  that  I  won't  allow  it.  None  of  your  nonsense,  miss! 
I  won't  permit  it  to  be  done." 

"  I  shall  do,"  said  Charity,  rocking  her  chair  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  raising  her  voice  to  a  high  pitch,  "  I  shall 
do,  pa,  what  I  please  and  what  I  have  done.  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  be  crushed  in  every  thing,  depend  upon  it.  I've  been 
more  shamefully  used  than  anybody  ever  was  in  this  world," 
here  she  began  to  cry  and  sob,  "  and  may  expect  the  worst 
treatment  from  vou,  I  know.  But  I  don't  care  for  that. 
No,  I  don't!" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  made  so  desperate  by  the  loud  tone  in 
which  she  spoke,  that,  after  looking  about  him  in  frantic 
uncertainty  for  some  means  of  softening  it,  he  rose  and 
shook  her  until  the  ornamental  bow  of  hair  upon  her  head 
nodded  like  a  plume.  She  was  so  very  much  astonished  by 
this  assault  that  it  really  had  the  desired  effect. 

"  I'll  do  it  again!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  he  resumed  his 
seat,  and  fetched  his  breath,  ''  if  you  dare  to  talk  in  that 
loud  manner.  How  do  you  mean  about  being  shamefully 
used  ?  If  Mr.  Jonas  chose  your  sister  in  preference  to  you, 
who  could  help  it,  I  should  wish  to  know.  What  have  /  to 
do  with  it  ?" 

"  Wasn't  I  made  a  convenience  of  ?  Weren't  my  feelings 
trifled  with  ?  Didn't  he  address  himself  to  me  first  ?"  sobbed 
Cherry,  clasping  her  hands  ;  "  and  oh  good  gracious,  that  I 
should  live  to  be  shook!" 

''You'll  live  to  be  shaken  again,"  returned  her  parent,  *'  if 
you  drive  me  to  that  means  of  maintaining  the  decorum  of 
this  humble  roof.  You  surprise  me.  I  wonder  you  have 
not  more  spirit.  If  Mr.  Jonas  didn't  care  for  you,  how  could 
you  wish  to  have  him  ?" 

"/wish  to  have  him!"  exclaimed  Cherry,  "/  wish  to 
have  him,  pa  !  " 


474  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  Then  what  are  you  making  all  of  this  piece  of  work  for," 
retorted  her  father,  "  if  you  didn't  wish  to  have  him  ?  " 

"  Because  I  was  treated  with  duplicity,"  said  Cherry  ;  "and 
because  my  own  sister  and  my  own  father  conspired  against 
me.  I  am  not  angry  with  her,"  said  Cherry,  looking  much 
more  angry  than  ever.  ''  I  pity  her.  I'm  sorry  for  her.  I 
know  the  fate  that's  in  store  for  her,  with  that  wretch." 

"  Mr.  Jonas  will  survive  your  calling  him  a  wretch,  my 
child,  I  dare  say,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  returning  resig- 
nation ;  "  but  call  him  what  you  like  and  make  an  end  of  it." 

"  Not  an  end,  pa,"  said  Charity.  ''  No,  not  an  end.  That's 
not  the  only  point  on  which  we're  not  agreed.  I  won't 
submit  to  it.  It's  better  you  should  know  that,  at  once.  No  ; 
I  won't  submit  to  it  indeed,  pa  !  I  am  not  quite  a  fool,  and 
I  am  not  blind.     All  I've  got  to  say,  is,  I  won't  submit  to  it." 

Whatever  she  meant,  she  shook  Mr.  Pecksniff  now;  for 
his  lame  attempt  to  seem  composed,  was  melancholy  in  the 
last  degree.  His  anger  changed  to  meekness,  and  his  words 
were  mild  and  fawning. 

"My  dear,"  he  said;  "  if  in  the  short  excitement  of  an 
angry  moment  I  resorted  to  an  unjustifiable  means  of  sup- 
pressing a  little  outbreak  calculated  to  injure  you  as  well  as 
myself — it's  possible  I  may  have  done  so;  perhaps  I  did — I 
ask  your  pardon.  A  father  asking  pardon  of  his  child,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is,  I  believe,  a  spectacle  to  soften  the  most 
rugged  nature." 

But  it  didn't  at  all  soften  Miss  Pecksniff:  perhaps  because 
her  nature  was  not  rugged  enough.  On  the  contrary,  she 
persisted  in  saying,  over  and  over  again,  that  she  wasn't  quite 
a  fool,  and  wasn't  blind,  and  wouldn't  submit  to  it. 

"  You  labor  under  some  mistake,  my  child  !  "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff;  "  but  I  will  not  ask  you  what  it  is;  I  don't  desire 
to  know.  No,  pray  !  "  he  added,  holding  out  his  hand  and 
coloring  again,  "  let  us  avoid  the  subject,  my  dear,  what- 
ever it  is  !  " 

"  It's  quite  right  that  the  subject  should  be  avoided  be- 
tween us,  sir,"  said  Cherry.  "  But  I  wish  to  be  able  to  avoid 
it  altogether,  and  consequently  must  beg  you  to  provide  me 
with  a  home." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  about  the  room,  and  said,  "  A  home, 
my  child!" 

"Another  home,  papa,"  said  Cherry,  with  increasing  state- 
liness.  "  Place  me  at  Mrs.  Todgers's  or  somewhere,  on  an 
independent  footing  ;  but  I  will  not  live  here,  if  such  is  to  be 
the  case." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  475 

It  is  possible  that  Miss  Pecksniff  saw  in  Mrs.  Todgers's  a 
vision  of  enthusiastic  men,  pining  to  fall,  in  adoration,  at  her 
feet.  It  is  possible  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  new-born  juve- 
nility, saw  in  the  suggestion  of  that  same  establishment,  an 
easy  means  of  relieving  himself  from  an  irksome  charge  in 
the  way  of  temper  and  watchfulness.  It  is  undoubtedly  a 
fact  that  in  the  attentive  ears  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  proposi- 
tion did  not  sound  quite  like  the  dismal  knell  of  all  his 
hopes. 

But  he  was  a  man  of  great  feeling,  and  acute  sensibility; 
and  he  squeezed  his  pocket-handkerchief  against  his  eyes 
with  both  hands — as  such  men  always  do:  especially  when 
they  are  observed.  ''  One  of  my  birds,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  said, 
"  has  left  me  for  the  stranger's  breast;  the  other  would  take 
wing  to  Todgers's  !  Well,  well,  what  am  I  ?  I  don't  know 
what  I  am,  exactly.     Never  mind  !  " 

Even  this  remark,  made  more  pathetic  perhaps  by  his 
breaking  down  in  the  middle  of  it,  had  no  effect  upon 
Charity.     She  was  grim,  rigid,  and  inflexible. 

''But  I  have  ever,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''sacrificed  my 
children's  happiness  to  my  own — I  mean  my  ovvn  happiness 
to  my  children's — and  I  will  not  begin  to  regulate  my  life  by 
other  rules  of  conduct  now.  If  you  can  be  happier  at  Mrs. 
Todgers's  than  in  your  father's  house,  my  dear,  go  to  Mrs. 
Todgers's  !  Do  not  think  of  me,  my  girl  !  "  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, with  emotion  :  "  I  shall  get  on  pretty  well,  no  doubt." 

^liss  Charity,  who  knew  he  had  a  secret  pleasure  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  proposed  change,  suppressed  her  own, 
and  went  on  to  negotiate  the  terms.  His  views  upon  this 
subject  were  at  first  so  very  limited  that  another  difference, 
involving  possibly  another  shaking,  threatened  to  ensue;  but 
by  degrees  they  came  to  something  like  an  understanding, 
and  the  storm  blew  over.  Indeed,  Miss  Charity's  idea  was 
so  agreeable  to  both,  that  it  would  have  been  strange  if  they 
had  not  come  to  an  amicable  agreement.  It  was  soon 
arranged  between  them  that  the  project  should  be  tried,  and 
that  immediately;  and  that  Cherry's  not  being  well,  and 
needing  change  of  scene,  and  wishing  to  be  near  her  sister, 
should  form  the  excuse  for  her  departure,  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
and  Mary,  to  both  of  whom  she  had  pleaded  indisposition  for 
some  tirtie  past.  These  premises  agreed  on,  Mr.  Pecksniff  gave 
her  his  blessing,  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  self-denying  man 
who  had  made  a  hard  sacrifice,  but  comforted  himself  with 
the  reflection  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward.     Thus  they  were 


476  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

reconciled  for  the  first  time  since  that  not  easily  forgiven 
night,  when  Mr.  Jonas,  repudiating  the  elder,  had  confessed 
his  passion  for  the  younger  sister,  and  Mr,  Pecksniff  had 
abetted  him  on  moral  grounds. 

But  how  happened  it — in  the  name  of  an  unexpected 
addition  to  that  small  family,  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the 
World,  whatever  and  wherever  they  may  be,  how  happened 
it — that  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  daughter  were  about  to  part  ? 
How  happened  it  that  their  mutual  relations  were  so  greatly 
altered  ?  Why  was  Miss  Pecksniff  so  clamorous  to  have  it 
understood  that  she  was  neither  blind  nor  foolish,  and  she 
wouldn't  bear  it  ?  It  is  not  possible  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
any  thoughts  of  marrying  again  !  or  that  his  daughter,  with 
the  sharp  eye  of  a  single  woman,  fathomed  his  design  ! 

Let  us  inquire  into  this. 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  a  man  without  reproach,  from  whom  the 
breath  of  slander  passed  like  common  breath  from  any 
other  polished  surface,  could  afford  to  do  what  common 
men  could  not.  He  knew  the  purity  of  his  own  motives  ; 
and  when  he  had  a  motive  worked  at  it  as  only  a  very  good 
man  (or  a  very  bad  one)  can.  Did  he  set  before  himself  any 
strong  and  palpable  motives  for  taking  a  second  wife  ?  Yes  : 
and  not  one  or  two  of  them,  but  a  combination  of  very  many. 

Old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  had  gradually  undergone  an 
important  change.  Even  upon  the  night  when  he  made 
such  an  ill-timed  arrival  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  he  was 
comparatively  subdued  and  easy  to  deal  with.  This  Mr. 
Pecksniff  attributed,  at  the  time,  to  the  effect  his  brother's 
death  had  had  upon  him.  But  from  that  hour  his  character 
seemed  to  have  modified  by  regular  degrees,  and  to  have 
softened  down  into  a  dull  indifference  for  almost  every  one 
but  Mr.  Pecksniff.  His  looks  were  much  the  same  as  ever, 
but  his  mind  was  singularly  altered.  It  was  not  that  this  or 
that  passion  stood  out  in  brighter  or  in  dimmer  hues  ;  but 
that  the  color  of  the  whole  man  was  faded.  As  one  trait 
disappeared,  no  other  trait  sprung  up  to  take  its  place.  His 
senses  dwindled  too.  He  was  less  keen  of  sight  ;  was  deaf 
sometimes  ;  took  little  notice  of  what  passed  before  him  ; 
and  would  be  profoundly  taciturn  for  days  together.  The 
process  of  this  alteration  was  so  easy,  that  almost  as  soon  as 
it  began  to  be  observed  it  was  complete.  But  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff saw  it  first,  and  having  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  fresh  in 
his  recollection,  saw  in  his  brother  Martin  the  same  process 
of  decay. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  477^ 

To  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  tenderness,  this  was  a 
very  mournful  sight.  He  could  not  but  foresee  the  proba- 
bility of  his  respected  relative  being  made  the  victim  of 
designing  persons,  and  of  his  riches  falling  into  worthless 
hands.  It  gave  him  so  much  pain  that  he  resolved  to  secure 
the  property  to  himself  ;  to  keep  bad  testamentary  suitors 
at  a  distance  ;  to  wall  up  the  old  gentleman,  as  it  were,  for 
his  own  use.  By  little  and  little,  therefore,  he  began  to  try 
whether  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  gave  any  promise  of  becoming  an 
instrument  in  his  hands  ;  and  finding  that  he  did,  and 
indeed  that  he  was  very  supple  in  his  plastic  fingers,  he 
made  it  the  business  of  his  life — kind  soul ! — to  establish  an 
ascendancy  over  him  :  and  every  little  test  he  durst  apply 
meeting  with  a  success  beyond  his  hopes,  he  began  to  think 
he  heard  old  Martin's  cash  already  chinking  in  his  own 
unworldly  pockets. 

But  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  pondered  on  this  subject  (as  in 
his  zealous  way  he  often  did),  and  thought  with  an  uplifted 
heart  of  the  train  of  circumstances  which  had  delivered  the 
old  gentleman  into  his  hands  for  the  confusion  of  evil-doers 
and  the  triumph  of  a  righteous  nature,  he  always  felt  that 
Mary  Graham  was  his  stumbling-block.  Let  the  old  man 
say  what  he  would,  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew  he  had  a  strong 
affection  for  her.  He  knew  that  he  showed  it  in  a  thousand 
little  ways  ;  that  he  liked  to  have  her  near  him,  and  was 
never  quite  at  ease  when  she  was  absent  long.  That  he 
had  ever  really  sworn  to  leave  her  nothing  in  his  will,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  greatly  doubted.  That  even  if  he  had,  there 
were  many  ways  by  which  he  could  evade  the  oath  and 
satisfy  his  conscience,  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew.  That  her 
unprotected  state  was  no  light  burden  on  the  old  man's 
mind,  he  also  knew,  for  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  plainly  told  him 
so.  ''  Then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  *'  what  if  I  married  her  ! 
What,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sticking  up  his  hair  and 
glancing  at  his  bust  by  Spoker  ;  "  What  if,  making  sure  of 
his  approval  first — he  is  nearly  imbecile,  poor  gentleman — I 
married  her  ! " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  a  lively  sense  of  the  beautiful  :  especially 
in  woman.  His  manner  toward  the  sex  was  remarkable  for 
its  insinuating  character.  It  is  recorded  of  him  in  another 
part  of  these  pages,  that  he  embraced  Mrs.  Todgers  on  the 
smallest  provocation  :  and  it  was  away  he  had:  it  was  a  part 
of  the  gentle  placidity  of  his  disposition.  Before  any  thought 
of  matrimony  was  in  his   mind,  he  had   bestowed  on    Mary 


47«  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

many  little  tokens  of  his  spiritual  admiration.  They  had 
been  indignantly  received,  but  that  was  nothing.  True,  as 
the  idea  expanded  within  him,  these  had  become  too  ardent 
to  escape  the  piercing  eye  of  Cherry,  who  read  his  scheme 
at  once  ;  but  he  had  always  felt  the  power  of  Mary's  charms. 
So  interest  and  inclination  made  a  pair,  and  drew  the  curri- 
cle of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  plan. 

As  to  any  thought  of  revenging  himself  on  young  Martin 
for  his  insolent  expressions  when  they  parted,  and  of  shut- 
ting him  out  still  more  effectually  from  any  hope  of  reconcilia- 
tion with  his  grandfather,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  much  too  meek 
and  forgiving  to  be  suspected  of  harboring  it.  As  to  being 
refused  by  Mary,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  quite  satisfied  that  in 
her  position  she  could  never  hold  out  if  he  and  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  were  both  against  her.  As  to  consulting  the  wishes 
of  her  heart  in  such  a  case,  it  formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's moral  code  ;  for  he  knew  what  a  good  man  he  was, 
and  what  a  blessing  he  must  be  to  any  body.  His  daughter 
having  broken  the  ice,  and  the  murder  being  out  between 
them,  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  now  only  to  pursue  his  design  as 
cleverly  as  he  could,  and  by  the  craftiest  approaches, 

"  Well,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  meeting  old 
Martin  in  the  garden,  for  it  was  his  habit  to  walk  in  and  out 
by  that  way,  as  the  fancy  took  him  ;  "  and  how  is  my  dear 
friend  this  delicious  morning  ? " 

"  Do  you  mean  me  ?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"Ah  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  one  of  his  deaf  days,  I  see. 
Could  I  mean  any  one  else,  my  dear  sir  ? " 

"You  might  have  meant  Mary,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Indeed  I  might.  Quite  true.  I  might  speak  of  her  as 
a  dear,  dear  friend,  I  hope  ? "  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  hope  so,"  returned  old  Martin.  "  I  think  she  deserves 
it." 

"  Think  !  "  cried  Pecksniff.  "  Think,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"You  are  speaking  I  know,"  returned  Martin,  "but  I 
don't  catch  what  you  say.     Speak  up  !  " 

"He's  getting  deafer  than  a  flint,"  said  Pecksniff.  "I 
was  saying,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  am  afraid  I  must  make  up 
my  mind  to  part  with  Cherry." 

"What  has  she  been  doing?"  asked  the  old  man. 

He  puts  the  most  ridiculous  questions  I  ever  heard  !  " 
muttered  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  He's  a  child  to-day."  After 
which  he  added,  in  a  mild  roar  :  "  She  hasn't  been  doing 
any  thing,  my  dear  friend." 


RUSTLING     AMONG     LAST     YEAR  S     LEAVES,     WHOSE     SCENT     WOKE 
MEMORY  OP  THE  PAST,  THE   PLACID  PECKSNIFF  STROLLED." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  479 

"  What  are  you  going  to  part  with  her  for  ? "  demanded 
Martin. 

"  She  hasn't  her  health  by  any  means,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  She  misses  her  sister,  my  dear  sir  ;  they  doted  on  each 
other  from  the  cradle.  And  I  think  of  giving  her  a  run  in 
London  for  a  change.  A  good  long  run,  sir,  if  I  find  she 
likes  it." 

"  Quite  right,"  cried  Martin.     "  It's  judicious." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  hope  you  mean  to  bear 
me  company  in  this  dull  part,  while  she's  away?"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  removing  from  it,"  was  Martin's 
answer. 

"Then  why,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  the  old  man's 
arm  in  his,  and  walking  slowly  on  :  "Why,  my  good  sir, 
can't  you  come  and  stay  with  me  ?  I  am  sure  I  could  sur- 
round you  with  more  comforts — lowly  as  is  my  cot — than  you 
can  obtain  at  a  village  house  of  entertainment.  And  pardon 
me,  Mr.  Chuzzl'ewit,  pardon  me  if  I  say  that  such  a  place  as 
the  Dragon,  however  well-conducted  (and,  as  far  as  I  know, 
Mrs.  Lupin  is  one  of  the  worthiest  creatures  in  this  country), 
is  hardly  a  home  for  Miss  Graham." 

Martin  mused  a  moment  ;  and  then  said,  as  he  shook  him 
by  the  hand, 

"  No.     You're  quite  right ;  it  is  not." 

"The  very  sight  of  skittles,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  eloquently 
pursued,  "is  far  from  being  congenial  to  a  delicate  mind." 

"  It's  an  amusement  of  the  vulgar,"  said  old  Martin,  "  cer- 
tainly," 

"  Of  the  very  vulgar,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered.  "  Then 
why  not  bring  Miss  Graham  here,  sir.  Here  is  the  house. 
Here  am  I  alone  in  it,  for  Thomas  Pinch  I  do  not  count  as 
any  one.  Our  lovely  friend  shall  occupy  my  daughter's 
chamber  !  you  shall  choose  your  own  ;  we  shall  not  quarrel, 
I  hope  !  " 

"  We  are  not  likely  to  do  that,"  said  Martin. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  pressed  his  hand.  "  We  understand  each 
other,  my  dear  sir,  I  see  ! — I  can  wind  him,"  he  thought,  with 
exultation,  "  round  my  little  finger  !  " 

"  You  leave  the  recompense  to  me  ? "  said  the  old  man, 
after  a  minute's  silence. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  speak  of  recompense  !  "  cried  Pecksniff. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Martin,  with  a  glimmer  of  his  old 
obstinacy,  "  you  leave  the  recompense  to  me.     Do  you  ?  " 


48o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

^'  Since  you  desire  it,  my  good  sir," 

'*  1  always  desire  it,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  know  I 
always  desire  it.  I  wish  to  pay  as  I  go,  even  when  I  buy  of 
you.  Not  that  1  do  not  leave  a  balance  to  be  settled  one 
day,  Pecksniff." 

The  architect  was  too  much  overcome  to  speak.  He  tried 
to  drop  a  tear  upon  his  patron's  hand,  but  couldn't  find  one 
in  his  dry  distillery. 

"  May  that  day  be  very  distant  !  "  was  his  pious  excla- 
mation. "  Ah,  sir  !  If  I  could  say  how  deep  an  interest  I 
have  in  you  and  yours  !  I  allude  to  our  beautiful  young 
friend." 

''  True,"  he  answered.  "  True.  She  need  have  some  one 
interested  in  her.  I  did  her  wrong  to  train  her  as  I  did. 
Orphan  though  she  was,  she  would  have  found  some  one  to 
protect  her  whom  she  might  have  loved  again.  When  she 
was  a  child,  I  pleased  myself  with  the  thought  that  in  grati- 
fying my  whim  of  placing  her  between  me  .and  false-hearted 
knaves,  I  had  done  her  a  kindness.  Now  she  is  a  woman,  I 
have  no  such  comfort.  She  has  no  protector  but  herself.  I 
have  put  her  at  such  odds  with  the  world,  that  any  dog  may 
bark  or  fawn  upon  her  at  his  pleasure.  Indeed  she  stands 
in  need  of  delicate  consideration.     Yes  ;  indeed  she  does!  " 

^'  If  her  position  could  be  altered  and  defined,  sir  .'*  "  Mr. 
Pecksniff  hinted. 

"  How  can  that  be  done  ?  Should  I  make  a  seamstress  of 
her,  or  a  governess  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  said  Mr,  Pecksniff.  *'  My  dear  sir, 
there  are  other  ways.  There  are  indeed.  But  I  am  much 
excited  and  embarrassed  at  present,  and  would  rather  not 
pursue  the  subject.  I  scarcely  know  what  I  mean.  Permit 
me  to  resume  it  at  another  time." 

"  You  are  not  unwell  ?  "  asked  Martin  anxiously. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Pecksniff,  '^  No,  Permit  me  to 
resume  it  at  another  time.     I'll  walk  a  little.     Bless  you  !  " 

Old  Martin  blessed  him  in  return,  and  squeezed  his  hand. 
As  he  turned  away,  and  slowly  walked  toward  the  house, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  stood  gazing  after  him  :  being  pretty  well 
recovered  from  his  late  emotion,  which,  in  any  other  man, 
one  might  have  thought  had  been  assumed  as  a  machinery 
for  feeling  Martin's  pulse.  The  change  in  the  old  man 
found  such  a  slight  expression  in  his  figure,  that  Mr,  Peck- 
sniff, looking  after  him,  could  not  help  saying  to  him- 
self: 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  481 

**  And  I  can  wind  him  round  my  little  finger !  Only 
think  !  " 

Old  Martin  happening  to  turn  his  head,  saluted  him  affec- 
tionately.    Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  the  gesture. 

"  Why  the  time  was,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  "  and  not  long 
ago,  when  he  wouldn't  look  at  me  !  How  soothing  is  this 
change.  Such  is  the  delicate  texture  of  the  human  heart ; 
so  complicated  is  the  process  of  its  being  softened  !  Exter- 
nally he  looks  the  same,  and  I  can  wind  him  round  my  lit- 
tle finger.     Only  think  !  " 

In  sober  truth,  there  did  appear  to  be  nothing  on  which 
Mr.  Pecksniff  might  not  have  ventured  with  Martin  Chuz- 
zlewit  ;  for  whatever  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  or  did  was  right, 
and  whatever  he  advised  was  done.  Martin  had  escaped  so 
many  snares  from  needy  fortune-hunters,  and  had  withered 
in  the  shell  of  his  suspicion  and  distrust  for  so  many  years, 
but  to  become  the  good  man's  tool  and  plaything.  With  the 
happiness  of  this  conviction  painted  on  his  face,  the  archi- 
tect went  forth  upon  his  morning  walk. 

The  summer  weather  in  his  bosom  was  reflected  in  the 
breast  of  nature.  Through  deep  green  vistas  where  the 
boughs  arched  overhead,  and  showed  the  sunlight  flashing 
in  the  beautiful  perspective  ;  through  dewy  fern  from  which 
the  startled  hares  leaped  up,  and  fled  at  his  approach  ;  by 
mantled  pools,  and  fallen  trees,  and  down  in  hollow  places, 
rustling  among  last  year's  leaves,  whose  scent  woke  memory 
of  the  past,  the  placid  Pecksniff  strolled.  By  meadow 
gates  and  hedges  fragrant  with  wild  roses  ;•  and  by  thatched- 
roofed  cottages  whose  inmates  humbly  bowed  before  him  as 
a  man  both  good  and  wise  ;  the  worthy  Pecksniff  walked  in 
tranquil  meditation.  The  bee  passed  onward,  humming  of 
the  work  he  had  to  do  ;  the  idle  gnats  forever  going  round 
and  round  in  one  contracting  and  expanding  ring,  yet  always 
going  on  as  fast  as  he,  danced  merrily  before  him  ;  the 
color  of  the  long  grass  came  and  went,  as  if  the  light  clouds 
made  it  timid  as  they  floated  through  the  distant  air.  The 
birds,  so  many  Pecksniff  consciences,  sang  gayiy  upon  every 
branch  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  paid  his  homage  to  the  day  by 
ruminating  on  his  projects  as  he  walked  along. 

Chancing  to  trip,  in  his  abstraction,  over  the  spreading 
root  of  an  old  tree,  he  raised  his  pious  eyes  to  take  a  survey 
of  the  ground  before  him.  It  startled  him  to  see  the 
embodied  image  of  his  thoughts  not  far  ahead.  Mary  her- 
self.    And  alone. 


482  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

At  first  Mr.  Pecksniff  stopped  as  if  with  the  intention  of 
avoiding  her  ;  but  his  next  impulse  was,  to  advance,  which 
he  did  at  a  brisk  pace  ;  caroling  as  he  went,  so  sweetly  and 
with  so  much  innocence,  that  he  only  wanted  feathers  and 
wings  to  be  a  bird. 

Hearing  notes  behind  her,  not  belonging  to  the  songsters 
of  the  grove,  she  looked  round.  Mr.  Pecksniff  kissed  his 
hand,  and  was  at  her  side  immediately. 

''  Communing  with  nature  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ^'  So 
am  I." 

She  said  the  morning  was  so  beautiful  that  she  had  walked 
further  than  she  intended,  and  would  return.  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff said  it  was  exactly  his  case,  and  he  would  return  with 
her. 

"  Take  my  arm,  sweet  girl,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Mary  declined  it,  and  walked  so  very  fast  that  he  remon- 
strated. "You  were  loitering  when  I  came  upon  you,"  Mr. 
Pecksniff  said.  "  Why  be  so  cruel  as  to  hurry  now  !  You 
would  not  sliun  me,  would  you  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  I  would,"  she  answered,  turning  her  glowing  cheek 
indignantly  upon  him,  "  you  know  I  would.  Release  me, 
Mr.  Pecksniff.     Your  touch  is  disagreeable  to  me." 

His  touch  !  What,  that  chaste  patriarchal  touch  which 
Mrs.  Todgers — surely  a  discreet  lady — had  endured,  not 
only  without  complaint,  but  with  apparent  satisfaction  ! 
This  was  positively  wrong.  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  sorry  to  hear 
her  say  it. 

"  If  you  have,  not  observed,"  said  Mary,  "  that  it  is  so, 
pray  take  the  assurance  from  my  lips,  and  do  not,  as  you  are 
a  gentleman,  continue  to  offend  me." 

**  Well,  well  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly,  "  I  feel  that  I 
might  consider  this  becoming  in  a  daughter  of  my  own,  and 
why  should  I  object  to  it  in  one  so  beautiful  !  It's  harsh.  It 
cuts  me  to  the  soul,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  :  "but  I  can  not 
quarrel  with  you,  Mary." 

She  tried  to  say  she  was  sorry  to  hear  it,  but  burst  into 
tears.  Mr.  Pecksniff  now  repeated  the  Todgers's  perform- 
ance on  a  comfortable  scale,  as  if  he  intended  it  to  last  some 
time  ;  and  in  his  disengaged  hand,  catching  hers,  emi)loyed 
himself  in  separating  the  fingers  with  his  own,  and  some- 
times kissing  them,  as  he  pursued  the  conversation  thus  : 

"  I  am  glad  we  met.  I  am  very  glad  we  met.  I  am  able 
now  to  ease  my  bosom  of  a  heavy  load,  and  speak  to  you  in 
confidence.      Mary,"  said  Mr.    Pecksniff,  in    his    tenderest 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  483 

tones  :  indeed,  they  were  so  very  tender  that  he  almost 
squeaked  :  *'  My  soul  !     I  love  you  !  " 

A  fantastic  thing,  that  maiden  affectation  !  She  made 
believe  to  shudder. 

"  I  love  you,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  *'  my  gentle  life,  with  a 
devotion  which  is  quite  surprising,  even  to  myself.  I  did 
suppose  that  the  sensation  was  buried  in  the  silent  tomb  of 
a  lady,  only  second  to  you  in  qualities  of  the  mind  and  form; 
but  I  find  I  am  mistaken." 

She  tried  to  disengage  her  hand,  but  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  free  herself  from  the  embrace  of  an  affectionate  boa- 
constrictor  ;  if  any  thing  so  wily  may  be  brought  into  com- 
parison with  Pecksniff. 

"  Although  I  am  a  widower,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  examin- 
ing the  rings  upon  her  fingers,  and  tracing  the  course  of  one 
delicate  blue  vein  with  his  fat  thumb,  "  a  widower  with  two 
daughters,  still  I  am  not  incumbered,  my  love.  One  of  them, 
as  you  know,  is  married.  The  other,  by  her  own  desire,  but 
with  a  view,  I  will  confess — why  not  ? — to  my  altering  my 
condition,  is  about  to  leave  her  father's  house.  I  have  a 
character,  I  hope.  People  are  pleased  to  speak  well  of  me, 
I  think.  My  person  and  manner  are  not  absolutely  those  of 
a  monster,  I  trust.  Ah,  naughty  hand  !  "  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, apostrophizing  the  reluctant  prize,  "  why  did  you  take 
me  prisoner  !     Go,  go  !  " 

He  slapped  the  hand  to  punish  it  ;  but  relenting,  folded 
it  in  his  waistcoat,  to  comfort  it  again. 

*'  Blessed  in  each  other,  and  in  the  society  of  our  vener- 
able friend,  my  darling,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  we  shall  be 
happy.  When  he  is  wafted  to  a  haven  of  rest,  we  will  con- 
sole each  other.     My  pretty  primrose,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  It  is  possible,"  Mary  answered,  in  a  hurried  manner, 
"  that  I  ought  to  feel  grateful  for  this  mark  of  your  confi- 
dence. I  can  not  say  that  I  do,  but  I  am  willing  to  suppose 
you  may  deserve  my  thanks.  Take  them  ;  and  pray  leave 
me,  Mr.  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  smiled  a  greasy  smile  ;  and  drew  her  closer 
to  him. 

"  Pray,  pray  release  me,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  I  can  not  listen 
to  your  proposal.  I  can  not  receive  it.  There  are  many  to 
r/hom  it  may  be  acceptable,  but  it  is  not  so  to  me.  As  an 
act  of  kindness  and  an  act  of  pity,  leave  me  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  walked  on  with  his  arm  round  iier  waist, 
and  her  hand  in  his,  as  contentedly  as  if  they  haa  been  all  in 


484  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

all  to  each  other,  and  were  joined  together  in  the  bonds  of 
truest  love. 

"  If  you  force  me  by  your  superior  strength,"  said  Mary, 
who,  finding  that  good  words  had  not  the  least  effect  upon 
him,  made  no  further  effort  to  suppress  her  indignation  : 
**  if  you  force  me  by  your  superior  strength  to  accompany 
you  back,  and  to  be  the  subject  of  your  insolence  upon  the 
way,  you  can  not  constrain  the  expression  of  my  thoughts. 
I  hold  you  in  the  deepest  abhorrence.  I  know  your  real 
nature  and  despise  it." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sweetly.     "  No,  no,  no  !  " 

"  By  what  arts  or  unhappy  chances  you  have  gained  your 
influence  over  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mary  : 
"  it  may  be  strong  enough  to  soften  even  this,  but  he  shall 
know  of  this,  trust  me,  sir." 

Mr.  Pecksniff"  raised  his  heavy  eyelids  languidly,  and  let 
them  fall  again.  It  was  saying  with  perfect  coolness,  *'  Ay, 
ay  !     Indeed  !  " 

"  Is  it  not  enough,"  said  Mary,  ''  that  you  warp  and  change 
his  nature,  adapt  his  every  prejudice  to  your  bad  ends,  and 
harden  a  heart  naturally  kind  by  shutting  out  the  truth  and 
allowing  none  but  false  and  distorted  views  to  reach  it  ;  is 
it  not  enough  that  you  have  the  power  of  doing  this,  and 
that  you  exercise  it,  but  must  you  also  be  so  coarse,  so  cruel, 
and  so  cowardly  to  me  ? " 

Still  Mr.  Pecksniff  led  her  calmly  on,  and  looked  as  mild 
as  any  lamb  that  ever  pastured  in  the  fields. 

"  Will  nothing  move  you,  sir  ?  "  cried  Mary. 

"  My  dear,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  placid  leer, 
''  a  habit  of  self-examination,  and  the  practice  of — shall  I  say 
of  virtue  ? " 

"  Of  hypocrisy,"  said  Mary. 

''  No,  no,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  chafing  the  captive 
hand  reproachfully  :  "  of  virtue — have  enabled  me  to  set 
such  guards  upon  myself,  that  it  is  really  difficult  to  ruffle 
me.  It  is  a  curious  fact,  but  it  is  difficult,  do  you  know,  for 
any  one  to  rufiie  me.  And  did  she  think,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, with  a  playful  tightening  of  his  grasp,  *'  thats/te  could  ! 
How  little  (lid  she  know  his  heart  !  " 

Little,  indeed  !  Her  mind  was  so  strangely  constituted 
that  she  would  have  preferred  the  caresses  of  a  toad,  an  adder, 
or  a  serpent  ;  nay,  the  hug  of  a  bear  :  to  the  endearments  of 
Mr.   Pecksniff. 

"  Come,  come,"  said   that  good  gentleman,   ''  a  word  or 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  485 

two  will  set  this  matter  right,  and  establish  a  pleasant  under- 
standing between  us.     I  am  not  angry,  my  love." 

"  You  angry  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  am  not.  I  say  so.  Neither 
are  you." 

There  was  a  beating  heart  beneath  his  hand  that  told 
another  story  though. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  :  "  and  I 
will  tell  you  why.  There  are  two  Martin  Chuzzlcwits,  my 
dear  ;  and  your  carrying  your  anger  to  one  might  have  a 
serious  effect — who  knows  ! — upon  the  other.  You  wouldn't 
wish  to  hurt  him,  would  you  ?  " 

She  trembled  violently,  and  looked  at  him  with  such  a 
proud  disdain  that  he  turned  his  eyes  away.  No  doubt  lest 
he  should  be  offended  with  her  in  spite  of  his  better  self. 

"A  passive  quarrel,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "may 
be  changed  into  an  active  one,  remember.  It  would  be  sad 
to  blight  even  a  disinherited  young  man  in  his  already 
blighted  prospects  :  but  how  easy  to  do  it.  Ah  !  how  easy  ! 
Have  I  influence  w^ith  our  venerable  friend,  do  you  think  ? 
Well,  perhaps  I  have.     Perhaps  I  have." 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  hers  ;  and  nodded  with  an  air  of 
banter  that  was  charming. 

"  No,"  he  continued,  thoughtfully.  "  Upon  the  whole, 
my  sweet,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  keep  my  secret  to  myself.  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  ;  very  far  from  it :  that  it  would  surprise  our 
friend  in  any  way,  for  he  and  I  have  had  some  conversation 
together  only  this  morning,  and  he  is  anxious,  very  anxious, 
to  establish  you  in  some  more  settled  manner.  But  whether 
he  was  surprised  or  not  surprised,  the  consequence  of  your 
imparting  it  might  be  the  same.  Martin,  junior,  might  suffer 
severely.  I'd  have  compassion  on  Martin,  junior,  do  you 
know  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  persuasive  smile.  "  Yes. 
He  don't  deserve  it,  but  I  would." 

She  wept  so  bitterly  now,  and  was  so  much  distressed,  that 
he  thought  it  prudent  to  unclasp  her  waist,  and  hold  her 
only  by  the  hand. 

"  As  to  our  own  share  in  the  precious  little  mystery,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  '*  we  will  keep  it  to  ourselves,  and  talk  of  it 
between  ourselves,  and  you  shall  think  it  over.  You  will 
consent,  my  love  ;  you  will  consent,  I  know.  Whatever  you 
may  think  ;  you  will.  I  seem  to  remember  to  have  heard  : 
I  really  don't  know  where,  or  hovv^ :  "  he  added,  with  bewitch- 
ing frankness,  '*  that  you  and  Martin,  junior,  when  you  were 


486  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

children,  had  a  sort  of  childish  fondness  for  each  other.  When 
we  are  married,  you  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of  thinking 
that  it  didn't  last,  to  ruin  him,  but  passed  away,  to  do  him 
good  ;  for  we'll  see  then,  what  we  can  do  to  put  some  trifling 
help  in  Martin,  junior's,  way.  Have  I  any  influence  with  our 
venerable  friend  ?  Well  !  Perhaps  I  have.  Perhaps  I 
have." 

The  outlet  from  the  wood  in  which  these  tender  passages 
occurred,  was  close  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house.  They  were 
now  so  near  it  that  he  stopped,  and  holding  up  her  little  fin- 
ger, said  in  playful  accents,  as  a  parting  fancy  : 

''  Shall  I  bite  it  ?  " 

Receiving  no  reply  he  kissed  it  instead  ;  and  then  stoop- 
ing down,  inclined  his  flabby  face  to  hers — he  had  a  flabby 
face  though  he  was  a  good  man — and  with  a  blessing,  which 
from  such  a  source  was  quite  enough  to  set  her  up  in  life, 
and  prosper  her  for  that  time  forth,  permitted  her  to  leave 
him. 

Gallantry  in  its  true  sense  is  supposed  to  ennoble  and 
dignify  a  man  ;  and  love  has  shed  refinements  on  innumer- 
able Cymons.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff  :  perhaps  because  to  one 
of  his  exalted  nature  these  were  mere  grossnesses  :  certainly 
did  not  appear  to  any  unusual  advantage,  now  that  he  was 
left  alone.  On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  be  shrunk  and 
reduced  ;  to  be  trying  to  hide  himself  within  himself  ;  and 
to  be  wretched  at  not  having  the  power  to  do  it.  His  shoes 
looked  too  large  ;  his  sleeve  looked  too  long  ;  his  hair  looked 
too  limp  ;  his  hat  looked  too  little  ;  his  features  looked  too 
mean  ;  his  exposed  throat  looked  as  if  a  halter  would  have 
done  it  good.  For  a  minute  or  two,  in  fact,  he  was  hot,  and 
pale,  and  mean,  and  shy,  and  slinking,  and  consequently  not 
at  all  Pecksniffian.  But  after  that,  he  recovered  himself,  and 
went  home  with  as  beneficent  an  air  as  if  he  had  been  the 
high-priest  of  the  summer  weather. 

"  I  have  arranged  to  go,  papa,"  said  Charity,  "  to-mor- 
row." 

"  So  soon,  my  child  !  " 

**  I  can't  go  too  soon,"  said  Charity,  "  under  the  circum- 
stances. I  have  written  to  Mrs.  Todgers  to  propose  an 
arrangement,  and  have  requested  her  to  meet  me  at  the 
coach,  at  all  events.  You'll  be  quite  your  own  master,  now, 
Mr.  Pinch  ! " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  just  gone  out  of  the  room,  and  Tom  had 
just  come  into  it. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIf.  487 

"  My  own  master  !  "  repeated  Tom. 

"  Yes,  you'll  have  nobody  to  interfere  with  you,"  said 
Charity.  "  At  least  1  hope  you  won't.  Hem  !  It's  a  chang- 
ing world." 

"  What !  are — are  you  going  to  be  married,  Miss  Peck- 
sniff ? "  asked  Tom,  in  great  surprise. 

"Not  exactly,"  faltered  Cherry.  *'  I  haven't  made  up  my 
mind  to  be.     I  believe  I  could  be  if  I  chose,  Mr.  Pinch." 

*'  Of  course  you  could  !  "  said  Tom.  And  he  said  it  in 
perfect  good  faith.  He  believed  it  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart. 

"No,"  said  Cherry,  "/  am  not  going  to  be  married. 
Nobody  is,  that  I  know  of.  Hem  !  But  I  am  not  going  to 
live  with  papa.  I  have  my  reasons,  but  it's  all  a  secret.  I 
shall  always  feel  very  kindly  toward  you,  I  assure  you,  for 
the  boldness  you  showed  that  night.  As  to  you  and  me,  Mr. 
Pinch,  we  part  the  best  friends  possible  !  " 

Tom  thanked  her  for  her  confidence,  and  for  her  friend- 
ship, but  there  was  a  mystery  in  the  former,  which  perfectly 
bewildered  him.  In  his  extravagant  devotion  to  the  family, 
he  had  felt  the  loss  of  Merry  more  than  any  one  but  those 
who  knew  that  for  all  the  slights  he  underwent  he  thought 
his  own  demerits  were  to  blame,  could  possibly  have  under- 
stood. He  had  scarcely  reconciled  himself  to  that,  when 
here  was  Charity  about  to  leave  them.  She  had  grown  up, 
as  it  were,  under  Tom's  eye.  The  sisters  were  a  part  of 
Pecksniff,  and  a  part  of  Tom  ;  items  in  Pecksniff's  good- 
ness, and  in  Tom's  service.  He  couldn't  bear  it  ;  not  two 
hours'  sleep  had  Tom  that  night,  through  dwelling  in  his 
bed  upon  these  dreadful  changes. 

When  morning  dawned,  he  thought  he  must  have  dreamed 
this  piece  of  ambiguity  ;  but  no,  on  going  down-stairs  he 
found  them  packing  trunks  and  cording  boxes,  and  making 
other  preparations  for  Miss  Charity's  departure,  which  lasted 
all  day  long.  In  good  time  for  the  evening  coach,  Miss 
Charity  deposited  her  housekeeping  keys  with  much  cere- 
mony upon  the  parlor  table  ;  took  a  gracious  leave  of  all  the 
house  ;  and  quitted  her  paternal  roof — a  blessing  for  which 
the  Pecksniffian  servant  was  observed  by  some  profane  per- 
sons to  be  particularly  active  in  the  thanksgiving  at  church 
next  Sunday. 


488  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MR.     PINCH    IS  DISCHARGED     OF    A    DUTY     WHICH     HE    NEVER 
OWED    TO    ANY    BODY  ;   AND    MR.    PECKSNIFF    DISCHARGES    A 
•DUTY   WHICH    HE    OWES    TO    SOCIETY. 

The  closing  words  of  the  last  chapter,  lead  naturally  to 
the  commencement  of  this,  its  successor  ;  for  it  has  to  do  with 
a  church.  With  the  church  so  often  mentioned  heretofore, 
in  which  Tom  Pinch  played  the  organ  for  nothing. 

One  sultry  afternoon,  about  a  week  after  Miss  Charity's 
departure  for  London,  Mr.  Peckshiff  being  out  walking  by 
himself,  took  it  into  his  head  to  stray  into  the  churchyard. 
As  he  was  lingering  among  the  tombstones,  endeavoring 
to  extract  an  available  sentiment  or  two  from  the  epitaphs 
— for  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  making  up  a  few  moral 
crackers,  to  be  let  off  as  occasion  served — Tom  Pinch  began 
to  practice.  Tom  could  run  down  to  the  church  and  do  so 
whenever  he  had  time  to  spare  ;  for  it  was  a  simple  little 
organ,  provided  with  wind  by  the  action  of  the  musician's 
feet  ;  and  he  was  independent,  even  of  a  be\lows-blower. 
Though  if  Tom  had  wanted  one  at  any  time,  there  was  not 
a  man  or  boy  in  all  the  village,  and  away  to  the  turnpike 
(tollman  included),  bat  would  have  blown  away  for  him  till 
he  was  black  in  the  face. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  no  objection  to  music  ;  not  the  least. 
He  was  tolerant  of  every  thing — he  often  said  so.  He  con- 
sidered it  a  vagabond  kind  of  trifling,  in  general,  just  suited 
to  Tom's  capacity.  But  in  regard  to  Tom's  performance 
upon  this  same  organ,  he  was  remarkably  lenient,  singularly 
amiable  ;  for  when  Tom  played  it  on  Sundays,  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff in  his  unbounded  sympathy  felt  as  if  he  played  it  him- 
self, and  were  a  benefactor  to  the  congregation.  So  when- 
ever it  was  impossible  to  devise  any  other  means  of  taking 
the  value  of  Tom's  wages  out  of  him,  Mr.  Pecksniff  gave 
him  leave  to  cultivate  this  instrument.  For  which  mark  of 
his  consideration,  Tom  was  very  grateful. 

The  afternoon  was  remarkably  warm,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  been  strolling  a  long  way.  He  had  not  what  may  be 
called  a  fine  ear  for  music,  but  he  knew  wlien  it  had  a  tran- 
cjiiill/ing  influence  on  his  soul  ;  and  that  was  the  case  now, 
for  it  sounded  to  liim  like  a  melodious  snore.  He  approached 
tlie  churcli,  and   looking   through    the   diamond  lattice  of  a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  4S9 

window  near  the  porch,  saw  Tom,  with  the  curtains  in  the 
lott  drawn  back,  playing  away  with  great  expression  and 
tenderness. 

The  church  had  an  inviting  air  of  coohiess.  The  old  oak 
roof  supported  by  cross-beams,  the  hoary  walls,  the  marble 
tablets,  and  the  cracked  stone  pavement,  were  refreshing  to 
look  at.  There  were  leaves  of  ivy  tapping  gently  at  the 
opposite  windows  ;  and  the  sun  poured  in  through  only  one: 
leaving  the  body  of  the  church  in  tempting  shade.  But  the 
most  tempting  spot  of  all,  was  one  red-curtained  and  soft- 
cushioned  pew,  wherein  the  official  dignitaries  of  the  place 
(of  whom  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  the  head  and  chief),  enshrined 
themselves  on  Sundays.  Mr.  Pecksniff's  seat  was  in  the 
corner  :  a  remarkably  comfortable  corner  ;  where  his  very 
large  prayer-book  was  at  that  minute  making  the  most  of 
its  quarto  self  upon  the  desk.  He  determined  to  go  in  and 
rest. 

He  entered  very  softly  ;  in  part  because  it  was  a  church  ; 
in  part  because  his  tread  was  always  soft  ;  in  part  because 
Tom  played  a  solemn  tune  ;  in  part  because  he  thought  he 
would  surprise  him  when  he  stopped.  Unbolting  the  door 
of  the  high  pew  of  state,  he  glided  in  and  shut  it  after  him  • 
then  sitting  in  his  usual  place,  and  stretching  out  his  legs 
upon  the  hassocks,  he  composed  himself  to  listen  to  the 
music. 

It  is  an  unaccountable  circumstance  that  he  should  have 
felt  drowsy  there,  where  the  force  of  association  might  surely 
have  been  enough  to  keep  him  wide  awake  ;  but  he  did. 
He  had  not  been  in  the  snug  little  corner  five  minutes  before 
he  began  to  nod.  He  had  not  recovered  himself  one  minute 
before  he  began  to  nod  again. 

In  the  very  act  of  opening  his  eyes  indolently,  he  nodded 
again.  In  the  very  act  of  shutting  them,  he  nodded  again. 
So  he  fell  out  of  one  nod  into  another  until  at  last  he  ceased 
to  nod  at  all,  and  was  as  fast  as  the  church  itself. 

He  had  a  consciousness  of  the  organ,  long  after  he  fell 
asleep,  though  as  to  its  being  an  organ  he  had  no  more  idea 
of  that,  than  he  had  of  its  being  a  bull.  After  a  while  he 
began  to  have  at  intervals  the  same  dreamy  impressions  of 
voices  ;  and  awakening  to  an  indolent  curiosity  upon  the 
subject,  opened  his  eyes. 

He  was  so  indolent,  that  after  glancing  at  the  hassocks 
and  the  pew,  he  was  already  half-way  off  to  sleep  again, 
when  it  occurred  to  him  that  there  really  were  voices  in  the 


490  MARliN  CHUZZLEWir. 

church  :  low  voices,  talking  earnestly  hard  by  :  while  the 
echoes  seemed  to  mutter  responses.  He  roused  himself,  and 
listened. 

Before  he  had  listened  half  a  dozen  seconds,  he  became 
as  broad  awake  as  ever  he  had  been  in  all  his  life.  With 
eyes,  and  ears,  and  mouth,  wide  open,  he  moved  himself  a 
very  little  with  the  utmost  caution,  and  gathering  the 
curtain  in  his  hand,  peeped  out. 

Tom  Pinch  and  Mary.  Of  course.  He  had  recognized 
their  voices,  and  already  knew  the  topic  they  discussed. 
Looking  like  the  small  end  of  a  guillotined  man,  with  his 
chin  on  a  level  with  the  top  of  the  pew,  so  that  he  might 
duck  down  immediately  in  case  of  either  of  them  turning 
round,  he  listened.  Listened  with  such  concentrated  eager- 
ness, that  his  very  hair  and  shirt-collar  stood  bristlitig  up  to 
help  him. 

"  No,"  cried  Tom.  "No  letters  have  ever  reached  me, 
except  that  one  from  New  York.  But  don't  be  uneasy  on 
that  account,  for  it's  likely  they  have  gone  away  to  some 
far-off  place,  where  the  posts  are  neither  regular  nor  frequent. 
He  said  in  that  very  letter  that  it  might  be  so,  even  in  that 
city  to  which  they  thought  of   traveling — Eden,  you  know." 

"  It  is  a  great  weight  upon  my  mind,"  said  Mary. 

**Oh,  but  you  mustn't  let  it  be,"  said  Tom.  "  There's  a 
true  saying  that  nothing  travels  so  fast  as  ill  news  ;  and 
if  the  slightest  harm  had  happened  to  Martin,  you  may 
be  sure  you  would  have  heard  of  it  long  ago.  I  have 
often  wished  to  say  this  to  you,"  Tom  continued,  with  an 
embarrassment  that  became  him  very  well,  "but  you  have 
never  given  me  an  opportunity." 

"  I  have  sometimes  been  almost  afraid,"  said  Mary,  "that 
you  might  suppose  I  hesitated  to  (  onfide  in  you,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"No,"  Tom  stammered,  "  I — I  am  not  aware  that  I  ever 
supposed  that.  I  am  sure  that  if  I  have,  I  have  checked 
the  thought  directly,  as  an  injustice  to  you.  I  feel  the  deli- 
cacy of  your  situation  in  having  to  confide  in  me  at  all," 
said  Tom,  "  but  I  would  risk  my  life  to  save  you  from  one 
day's  uneasiness  :  indeed  I  would  !  " 

Poor  Tom  ! 

"  I  have  dreaded  sometimes,"  Tom  continued,  "  that  I 
might  have  displeased  you  by — by  having  the  boldness  to 
try  and  anticipate  your  wishes  now  and  then.  At  other 
times  I  have  fancied  that  your  kindness  i)rompted  you  to 
keep  aloof  from  me." 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWTT.  491 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  It  was  very  foolish  ;  very  presumptuous  and  ridiculous  ; 
to  think  so,"  Tom  pursued  ;  "  but  I  feared  you  might  sup- 
pose it  possible  that  I — I — should  admire  you  too  much  for 
my  own  peace  ;  and  so  denied  yourself  the  slight  assistance 
you  would  otherwise  have  accepted  from  me.  If  such  an 
idea  has  ever  presented  itself  to  you,"  faltered  Tom,  "  pray 
dismiss  it.  I  am  easily  made  happy  ;  and  1  shall  live  con- 
tented here  long  after  you  and  Martin  have  forgotten  n}e. 
I  am  a  poor,  shy,  awkward  creature  ;  not  at  all  a  man  of  the 
world  ;  and  you  should  think  no  more  of  me,  bless  you, 
than  if  I  were  an  old  friar  !  " 

If  friars  bear  such  hearts  as  thine,  Tom,  let  friars  mul- 
tiply ;  though  they  have  no  such  rule  in  all  their  stern  arith- 
metic. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  said  Mary,  giving  him  her  hand  ; 
"  I  can  not  tell  you  how  your  kindness  moves  me.  I  have 
never  wronged  you  by  the  lightest  doubt,  and  have  never  for 
an  instant  ceased  to  feel  that  you  were  all  ;  much  more  than 
all  ;  that  Martin  found  you.  Without  the  silent  care  and 
friendship  I  have  experienced  from  you,  my  life  here  would 
have  been  unhappy.  But  you  have  been  a  good  angel  to 
me  ;  filling  me  with  gratitude  of  heart,  hope,  and   courage." 

"  I  am  as  little  like  an  angel,  I  am  afraid,"  replied  Tom, 
shaking  his  head,  *'  as  any  stone  cherubim  among  the  grave- 
stones ;  and  I  don't  think  there  are  many  real  angels  of  that 
pattern.  But  I  should  like  to  know  (if  you  will  tell  me)  why 
you  have  been  so  very  silent  about  Martin  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  been  afraid,"  said  Mary,  "  of  injuring 
you." 

"  Of  injuring  me  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"Of  doing  you  an  injury  with  your  employer." 

The  gentleman  in  question  dived. 

"  With  Pecksniff  !  "  rejoined  Tom,  with  cheerful  confi- 
dence. "  Oh,  dear,  he'd  never  think  of  us?  He's  the  best 
of  men.  The  more  at  ease  you  were,  the  happier  he  would 
be.  Oh  dear,  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  Pecksniff.  He  is 
not  a  spy." 

Many  a  man  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  place,  if  he  could  have 
dived  through  the  floor  of  the  pew  of  state  and  come  out  at 
Calcutta  or  any  inhabited  region  on  the  other  side  of  the 
earth,  would  have  done  it  instantly.  Mr.  Pecksniff  sat 
doun  upon  a  hassock,  and  listening  more  intently  than 
ever,  smiled. 


492  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVnX. 

Mary  seemed  to  have  expressed  some  dissent  in  the  mean- 
while, for  Tom  went  on  to  say,  with  honest  energy  : 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  it  always  happens, 
whenever  I  express  myself  in  this  way,  to  anybody  almost, 
that  I  find  they  won't  do  justice  to  Pecksniff.  It  is  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  circumstances  that  ever  came  within 
my  knowledge,  but  it  is  so.  There's  John  Westlock,  who 
used  to  be  a  pupil  here,  one  of  the  best-hearted  young  men 
in  the  world,  in  all  other  matters:  I  really  believe  John  would 
have  Pecksniff  flogged  at  the  cart's  tail  if  he  could.  And 
John  is  not  a  solitary  case,  for  every  pupil  we  have  had  in  my 
time  has  gone  away  with  the  same  inveterate  hatred  of  him. 
There  was  Mark  Taplej,  too,  quite  in  another  station  of  life," 
said  Tom  :  "  the  mockery  he  used  to  make  of  Pecksniff  when 
he  was  at  the  Dragon  was  shocking.  Martin  too  :  Martin 
was  worse  than  any  of  'em.  But  I  forgot.  He  prepared  you 
to  dislike  Pecksniff,  of  course.  So  you  came  with  a  prejudice, 
you  know.  Miss  Graham,  and  are  not  a  fair  witness." 

Tom  triumphed  very  much  in  this  discovery,  and  rubbed 
his  hands  with  great  satisfaction. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mary,  "  you  mistake  him." 
'*  No,  no  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  You  mistake   him.     But,"  he 
added,  with  a  rapid  change  in  his  tone,  "  what  is  the  matter. 
Miss  Graham,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  brought  up  to  the  top  of  the  pew,  by  slow 
degrees,  his  hair,  his  forehead,  his  eyebrow,  his  eye.  She 
was  sitting  on  a  bench  beside  the  door  with  her  hands  before 
her  face  ;  and  Tom  was  bending  over  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Have  I  said  any 
thing  to  hurt  you  ?  Has  any  one  said  any  thing  to  hurt  you  ? 
Don't  cry.  Pray  tell  me  what  it  is.  I  cannot  bear  to  see 
you  so  distressed.  Mercy  on  us,  I  never  was  so  surprised 
and  grieved  in  all  my  life  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  kept  his  eye  in  the  same  place.  He  could 
have  moved  it  now  for  nothing  short  of  a  gimlet  or  a  red-hot 
wire. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  told  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mary,  "  if  I 
could  have  helped  it  ;  but  your  delusion  is  so  absorbing, 
and  it  is  so  necessary  that  we  should  be  upon  our  guard,  that 
you  should  not  be  compromised  ;  and  to  that  end  that  you 
should  know  by  whom  I  am  beset;  that  no  alternative  is  left 
me.  I  came  here  purposely  to  tell  you,  but  I  think  1  should 
have  wanted  courage  if  you  had  not  chanced  to  lead  me  so 
(iucctly  to  the  object  of  my  coming." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT  493 

Tom  gazed  at  her  steadfastly,  and  seemed  to  say,  **  Wha^ 
else  ?  "     But  he  said  not  a  word. 

'*  That  person  whom  you  think  the  best  of  men,"  said 
Mary,  looking  up,  and  speaking  with  a  quivering  lip  and 
flashing  eye  : 

"  Lord  bless  me  !  "  muttered  Tom,  staggering  back. 
"  Wait  a  moment.  That  person  whom  I  think  the  best  of 
men  !  You  mean  Pecksniff,  of  course.  Yes,  I  see  you  mean 
Pecksniff.  Good  gracious  me,  don't  speak  without  authority. 
What  has  he  done  ?  If  he  is  not  the  best  of  men,  what  is 
he?" 

"  The  worst.  The  falsest,  craftiest,  meanest,  cruelest, 
most  sordid,  most  shameless,"  said  the  trembling  girl — trem- 
bling with  her  indignation. 

Tom  sat  down  on  a  seat,  and  clasped  his  hands. 

"  What  is  he,"  said  Mary,  ''who  receiving  me  in  his  house 
as  his  guest:  his  unwilling  guest:  knowing  my  history,  and 
how  defenseless  and  alone  I  am,  presumes  before  his  daugh- 
ters to  aft'ront  me  so,  that  if  I  had  a  brother  but  a  child,  who 
saw  it,  he  would  instinctively  have  helped  me  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  scoundrel!"  exclaimed  Tom.  "Whoever  he 
may  be,  he  is  a  scoundrel." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  dived  again. 

"  What  is  he,"  said  Mary,  "who,  when  my  only  friend:  a 
dear  and  kind  one,  too:  was  in  full  health  of  mind,  humbled 
himself,  before  him,  but  was  spurned  away  (for  he  knew  him 
then)  like  a  dog.  Who,  in  liis  forgiving  spirit,  now  that  that 
friend  is  sunk  into  a  failing  state,  can  crawl  about  him  again, 
and  use  the  influence  he  basely  gains,  for  every  base  and 
wicked  purpose,  and  not  for  one — not  one — that's  true  or 
good  ?  " 

"  I  say  he  is  a  scoundrel  !  "  answered  Tom. 

"  But  what  is  he  :  oh,  Mr.  Pinch,  what  is  he:  who,  think- 
ing he  could  compass  these  designs  the  better  if  I  were  his 
wife,  assails  me  with  the  coward's  argument  that  if  I  marry 
him,  Martin,  on  whom  I  have  brought  so  much  misfortune, 
shall  be  restored  to  something  of  his  former  hopes;  and  if  I 
do  not,  shall  be  plunged  in  deeper  ruin  ?  What  is  he  who 
makes  mv  verv  constancv  to  one  I  love  with  all  mv  heart  a 
torture  to  myself  and  wrong  to  him;  who  makes  me,  do  what 
I  will,  the  instrument  to  hurt  a  head  I  would  heap  blessings 
on  !  What  is  he  who,  winding  all  these  cruel  snares  about 
me,  explains  their  purpose  to  me,  with  a  smooth  tongue  and  a 
smiling  face,  in  the  broad  light  of  day:  dragging  me  on,  the 


494  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

while,  in  his  embrace,  and  holding  to  his  lips  a  hand,"  pur- 
sued the  agitated  girl,  extending  it,  "  which  I  would  have 
struck  off,  if  with  it  I  could  lose  the  shame  and  degradation 
of  his  touch  ?" 

*'  I  say,"  cried  Tom,  in  great  excitement,  'Mie  is  a  scoun- 
drel and  a  villain  !  I  don't  care  who  he  is,  I  say  he  is  a 
double-dyed  and  most  intolerable  villain  !  " 

Covering  her  face  with  her  hands  again,  as  if  the  passion 
which  had  sustained  her  through  these  disclosures  lost  itself 
in  an  overwhelming  sense  of  shame  and  grief,  she  aband- 
oned herself  to  tears. 

Any  sight  of  distress  was  sure  to  move  the  tenderness  of 
Tom,  but  this  especially.  Tears  and  sobs  from  her,  were 
arrows  in  his  heart.  He  tried  to  comfort  her  ;  sat  down 
beside  her  ;  expended  all  his  store  of  homely  eloquence  ;  and 
spoke  in  words  of  praise  and  hope  of  Martin.  Ay,  though 
he  loved  her  from  his  soul  with  such  a  self-denying  love  as 
woman  seldom  wins  ;  he  spoke  from  first  to  last  of  Martin. 
Not  the  wealth  of  the  rich  Indies  would  have  tempted  Tom 
to  shirk  one  mention  of  her  lover's  name. 

When  she  was  more  composed,  she  impressed  upon  Tom 
that  this  man  she  had  described,  was  Pecksniff  in  his  real 
colors  ;  and  word  by  word  and  phrase  by  phrase,  as  well  as 
she  remembered  it,  related  what  had  passed  between  them  in 
the  wood  ;  which  was  no  doubt  a  source  of  high  gratification 
to  that  gentleman  himself,  who  in  his  desire  to  see  and  his 
dread  of  being  seen,  was  constantly  diving  down  into  the 
state  pew,  and  coming  up  again  like  the  intelligent  house- 
holder in  Punch's  show,  who  avoids  being  knocked  on  the 
head  with  a  cudgel.  When  she  had  concluded  her  account, 
and  had  besought  Tom  to  be  very  distant  and  unconscious 
in  his  manner  toward  her  after  this  explanation,  and  had 
thanked  him  very  much,  they  parted  on  the  alarm  of  foot- 
steps in  the  burial-ground  ;  and  Tom  was  left  alone  in  the 
church  again. 

And  now  the  full  agitation  and  misery  of  the  disclosure 
came  rushing  upon  Tom  indeed.  The  star  of  his  whole  life 
from  boyhood  had  become,  in  a  moment,  putrid  vapor.  It 
was  not  that  Pecksniff,  Tom's  Pecksniff,  had  ceased  to  exist, 
but  that  he  never  had  existed.  In  his  death  Tom  would  have 
had  the  comfort  of  remembering  what  he  used  to  be,  but  in 
this  discovery,  he  had  the  anguish  of  recollecting  what  he 
never  was.  For  as  Tom's  blindness  in  this  matter  had  been 
total  and  not  partial,  so  was  his  restored  sight     Bis  Peck- 


MARTIN  CllUZZLEWIT.  495 

sniff  could  never  have  worked  the  wickedness  of  which  he 
had  just  now  heard,  but  any  other  Pecksniff  could  ;  and  the 
Pecksniff  who  could  do  that,  could  do  any  thing,  and  no 
doubt  had  been  doing  any  thing  and  every  thing  except  the 
right  thing,  all  through  his  career.  From  the  lofty  height 
on  which  poor  Tom  had  placed  his  idol  it  was  tumbled  down 
headlong,  and 

Not  all  the  king's  horses,  nor  all  the  king's  men, 
Could  have  set  Mr;  Pecksniff  up  again. 

Legions  of  Titans  couldn't  have  got  him  out  of  the 
mud  ;  and  serve  him  right  !  But  it  was  not  he  who 
suffered  ;  it  was  Tom.  His  compass  was  broken,  his  chart 
destroyed,  his  chronometer  had  stopped,  his  masts  were  gone 
by  the  board  ;  his  anchor  was  adrift,  ten  thousand  leagues 
away. 

Mr,  Pecksniff  watched  him  with  a  lively  interest,  for  he 
divined  the  purpose  of  Tom's  ruminations,  and  was  curious 
to  see  how  he  conducted  himself.  For  some  time  Tom  wan- 
dered up  and  down  the  aisle  like  a  man  demented,  stopping 
occasionally  to  lean  against  a  pew  and  think  it  over  ;  then 
he  stood  staring  at  a  blank  old  monument  bordered  taste- 
fully with  skulls  and  cross-bones,  as  if  it  were  the  finest 
work  of  art  he  had  ever  seen,  although  at  other  times  he  held 
it  in  unspeakable  contempt  ;  then  he  sat  down  ;  then  walked 
to  and  fro  again  ;  then  went  wandering  up  into  the  organ- 
loft,  and  touched  the  keys.  But  their  minstrelsy  was  changed, 
their  music  gone  ;  and  sounding  one  long  melancholy  chord, 
Tom  drooped  his  head  upon  his  hands  and  gave  it  up  as 
hopeless. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  cared,"  said  Tom  Pinch,  rising  from  his 
stool,  and  looking  down  into  the  church  as  if  he  had  been 
the  clergyman,  "  I  wouldn't  have  cared  for  any  thing  he 
might  have  done  to  me,  for  I  have  tried  his  patience  often, 
and  have  lived  upon  his  sufferance,  and  have  never  been  the 
help  to  him  that  others  could  have  been.  I  wouldn't  have 
minded,  Pecksniff,"  Tom  continued,  little  thinking  who 
heard  him,  ^*  if  you  had  done  Me  any  wrong  ;  I  could  have 
found  plenty  of  excuses  for  that  ;  and  though  you  might 
have  hurt  me,  could  have  still  gone  on  respecting  you.  But 
why  did  you  ever  fall  so  low  as  this  in  my  esteem  !  Oh  Peck- 
sniff, Pecksniff,  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  have  given,  to 
have  had  you  deserve  my  old  opinion  of  you  ;  nothing  !  " 

Mr,  Pprksniff  sat  upon  the  hassock  pulling  up  his  shirt- 


490  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

collar,  while  Tom,  touched  to  the  quick,  delivered  this  apos- 
trophe. After  a  pause  he  heard  Tom  coming  down  the  stairs 
jingling  the  church  keys  ;  and  bringing  his  eye  to  the  top  yf 
the  pew  again,  saw  him  go  slowly  out,  and  lock  the  door. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  durst  not  issue  from  his  place  of  conceal- 
ment; for  through  the  windows  of  the  church,  he  saw  Tom 
passing  on  among  the  graves,  and  sometimes  stopping  at  a 
stone,  and  leaning  there,  as  if  he  were  a  mourner  who  had 
lost  a  friend.  Even  when  he  had  left  the  church-yard  Mr. 
Pecksniff  still  remained  shut  up:  not  being  at  all  secure  but 
that  in  his  restless  state  of  mind  Tom  might  come  wander- 
ing back.  At  length  he  issued  forth,  and  walked  with  a 
pleasant  countenance  into  the  vestry;  where  he  knew  there 
was  a  window  near  the  ground,  by  which  he  could  release 
himself  by  merely  stepping  out. 

He  was  in  a  curious  frame  of  mind,  Mr.  Pecksniff:  being 
in  no  hurry  to  go,  but  rather  inclining  to  a  dilatory  trifling 
with  the  time,  which  prompted  him  to  open  the  vestry  cup- 
board, and  look  at  himself  in  the  parson's  little  glass  that 
hung  within  the  door.  Seeing  that  his  hair  was  rumpled,  he 
took  the  liberty  of  borrowing  the  canonical  brush  and 
arranging  it.  He  also  took  the  liberty  of  opening  another 
cupboard;  but  he  shut  it  up  again  quickly,  being  rather 
startled  by  the  sight  of  a  black  and  a  white  surplice  dangling 
against  the  wall;  which  had  very  much  the  appearance  of 
two  curates  who  had  committed  suicide  by  hanging  them- 
selves. Remembering  that  he  had  seen  in  the  first  cupboard 
a  port-wine  bottle  and  some  biscuits,  he  peeped  into  it  again, 
and  helped  himself  with  much  deliberation:  cogitating  all 
the  time  though,  in  a  very  deep  and  weighty  manner,  as  if 
his  thoughts  were  otherwise  employed. 

He  soon  made  up  his  mind,  if  it  had  ever  been  in  doubt; 
and  putting  back  the  bottle  and  biscuits,  opened  the  case- 
ment. He  got  out  into  the  church-yard  without  any  diffi- 
culty; shut  the  window  after  him;  and  walked  straight  home. 

"Is  Mr.  Pinch  in-doors?"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  of  his 
serving  maid. 

"  Just  come  in,  sir." 

**  Just  come  in,  eh  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  cheerfully. 
"  And  gone  up-stairs,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.     Gone  up-stairs.     Shall  I  call  him,  sir  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "no.  You  needn't  call  him, 
Jane.     Thank  you,  Jane,  how  are  your  relations,  Jane  ?" 

"  Pi'^tty  well,  I  thank  you,  sir." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  497 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Let  them  know  I  asked  about 
them,  Jane.     Is  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  the  way,  Jane  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     He's  in  the  parlor,  reading." 

"  He's  in  the  parlor,  reading,  is  he,  Jane  ?  "  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff.   "  Very  well.    Then  I  think  I'll  go  and  see  him,  Jane." 

Never  had  Mr.  Pecksniff  been  beheld  in  a  more  pleasant 
humor. 

But  when  he  walked  into  the  parlor  where  the  old  man 
was  engaged  as  Jane  had  said;  with  pen  and  ink  and  paper 
on  a  table  close  at  hand  (for  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  always  very 
particular  to  have  him  well  supplied  with  writing  materials); 
he  became  less  cheerful.  He  was  not  angry,  he  was  not 
vindictive,  he  was  not  cross,  he  was  not  moody,  but  he  was 
grieved;  he  was  sorely  grieved.  As  he  sat  down  by  the  old 
man's  side,  two  tears:  not  tears  like  those  with  which  record- 
ing angels  blot  their  entries  out,  but  drops  so  precious  that 
they  use  them  for  their  ink:  stole  down  his  meritorious 
cheeks. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  old  Martin.  "  Pecksniff, 
what  ails  you,  man  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  my  dear  sir,  and  I  am  still 
m.ore  sorry  for  the  cause.  My  good,  my  worthy  friend,  I  am 
deceived." 

"  You  are  deceived  !  " 

"  Ah!  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  an  agony,  "  deceived  in  the 
tenderest  point.  Cruelly  deceived  in  that  quarter,  sir,  in 
which  I  placed  the  most  unbounded  confidence.  Deceived, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  by  Thomas  Pinch." 

"  Oh!  bad,  bad,  bad!  "  said  Martin,  laying  down  his  book. 
*'  Very  bad!     I  hope  not.     Are  you  certain  ?  " 

"  Certain,  my  good  sir!  My  eyes  and  ears  are  witnesses. 
I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  otherwise.  I  wouldn't  have 
believed  it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  if  a  fiery  serpent  had  pro- 
claimed it  from  the  top  of  Salisbury  Cathedral.  I  would 
have  said,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ''  that  the  Serpent  lied. 
Such  was  my  faith  in  Thomas  Pinch,  that  I  would  have  cast 
the  falsehood  back  into  the  serpent's  teeth,  and  would  have 
taken  Thomas  to  my  heart.  But  I  am  not  a  serpent,  sir, 
myself,  I  grieve  to  say,  and  no  excuse  or  hope  is  left  me." 

Martin  was  greatly  disturbed  to  see  him  so  much  agitated, 
and  to  hear  such  unexpected  news.  He  begged  him  to  con- 
pose  himself,  and  asked  upon  what  subject  Mr.  Pinch's 
treachery  had  been  developed. 

'*  That  is   almost  the  worst   of   all,   sir,"   Mr.    Pecksniff 


498  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

answered.  '*  On  a  subject  nearly  concerning  you.  Oh!  is 
it  not  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pe9ksniff,  looking  upward,  "  that 
these  blows  must  fall  on  me,  but  must  they  always  hit  my 
friends !  " 

"  You  alarm  me,"  cried  the  old  man,  changing  color.  ''  I 
am  not  so  strong  as  I  was.     You  terrify  me,  Pecksniff  !  " 

"  Cheer  up,  my  noble  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  cour- 
age, "  and  we  will  do  what  is  required  of  us.  You  shall 
know  all,  sir,  and  shall  be  righted.  But  first  excuse  me,  sir, 
excuse  me.  I  have  a  duty  to  discharge,  which  I  owe  to 
society." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  Jane  appeared.  "  Send  Mr.  Pinch 
here,  if  you  please,  Jane." 

Tom  came.  Constrained  and  altered  in  his  manner, 
downcast  and  dejected,  visibly  confused  ;  not  liking  to  look 
Pecksniff  in  the  face. 

The  honest  man  bestowed  a  glance  on  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as 
who  should  say  "  You  see  !  "  and  addressed  himself  to  Tom 
in  these  terms  : 

"  Mr.  Pinch,  I  have  left  the  vestry-window  unfastened. 
Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  go  and  secure  it ;  then  bring 
the  keys  of  the  sacred  edifice  to  me  !  " 

"  The  vestry-window,  sir  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  You  understand  me,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  think,"  returned  his 
patron.  "  Yes,  Mr.  Pinch,  the  vestry-window.  I  grieve  to 
say  that  sleeping  in  the  church  after  a  fatiguing  ramble,  I 
overheard  just  now  some  fragments,"  he  emphasized  that 
word,  "  of  a  dialogue  between  two  parties  ;  and  one  of  them 
locking  the  church  when  he  went  out,  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
it  myself  by  the  vestry-window.  Do  me  the  favor  to  secure 
that  vestry-window,  Mr.  Pinch,  and  then  come  back  to  me." 

No  physiognomist  that  ever  dwelt  on  earth  could  l;iave 
construed  Tom's  face  when  he  heard  these  words.  Wonder 
was  in  it,  and  a  mild  look  of  reproach,  but  certainly  no  fear 
or  guilt,  although  a  host  of  strong  emotions  struggled  to  dis- 
play themselves.  He  bowed  and  without  saying  one  word 
good  or  bad,  withdrew. 

"  Pecksniff,"  cried  Martin,  in  a  tremble,  "  what  does  all 
this  mean  ?  You  are  not  going  to  do  any  thing  in  haste  you 
may  regret  !  " 

"  No,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  firmly,  "no.  But 
I  have  a  duty  to  discharge  which  I  owe  to  society  ;  and  it 
shall  be  discharged,  my  friend,  at  my  cost  !  " 

Oh  late-remembered,  much-forgotten,  mouthing,  braggart 


MAR  riN  CHUZZLEWIT.  499 

duty,  always  owed,  and  seldom  paid  in  any  other  coin  than 
punishment  and  wrath,  when  will  mankind  begin  to  know 
thee  !  When  will  men  acknowledge  thee  in  thy  neglected 
cradle,  and  thy  stunted  youth,  and  not  begin  their  recogni- 
tion in  thy  sinful  manhood  and  thy  desolate  old  age  !  Oh 
ermined  judge  whose  duty  to  society  is,  now,  to  doom  the 
ragged  criminal  to  punishment  and  death,  hadst  thou  never, 
man,  a  duty  to  discharge  in  barring  up  the  hundred  open 
gates  that  wooed  him  to  the  felon's  dock,  and  throwing  but 
ajar  the  portals  to  a  decent  life  !  Oh  prelate,  prelate,  whose 
duty  to  society  it  is  to  mourn  in  melancholy  phrase  the  sad 
degeneracy  of  these  bad  times  in  which  thy  lot  of  honors  has 
been  cast,  did  nothing, go  before  thy  elevation  to  the  lofty 
seat,  from  which  thou  dealest  out  thy  homilies  to  other  tar- 
riers  for  dead  men's  shoes,  whose  duty  to  society  has  not 
begun  !  Oh  magistrate,  so  rare  a  country  gentleman  and 
brave  a  squire,  had  you  no  duty  to  society,  before  the  ricks 
were  blazing  and  the  mob  were  mad  ;  or  did  it  spring  up, 
armed  and  booted  from  the  earth,  a  corps  of  yeomanry,  full- 
grown  ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  duty  to  society  could  not  be  paid  till  Tom 
came  back.  The  interval  which  preceded  the  return  of  that 
young  man,  he  occupied  in  a  close  conference  with  his  friend  ; 
so  that  when  Tom  did  arrive,  he  found  the  two  quite  ready 
to  receive  him.  Mary  was  in  her  own  room  above,  whither 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  always  considerate,  had  besought  old  Martin 
to  entreat  her  to  remain  some  half-hour  longer,  that  her 
feelings  might  be  spared. 

When  Tom  came  back,  he  found  old  Martin  sitting  by  the 
window,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  an  imposing  attitude  at  the 
table.  On  one  side  of  him  was  his  pocket-handkerchief  ; 
and  on  the  other,  a  little  heap  (a  very  little  heap),  of  gold 
and  silver,  and  odd  pence.  Tom  saw,  at  a  glance,  that  it 
was  his  own  salary  for  the  current  quarter. 

"  Have  you  fastened  the  vestry-window,  Mr.  Pinch  ? " 
said  Pecksniff. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Thank  you.  Put  down  the  keys  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Pinch." 

Tom  placed  them  on  the  table.  He  held  the  bunch  by 
the  key  of  the  organ  loft  (though  it  was  one  of  the  smallest), 
and  looked  hard  at  it  as  he  laid  it  down.  It  had  been  an 
old,  old  friend  of  Tom's  ;  a  kind  companion  to  him,  many 
and  many  a  day. 


500  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  :  "  Oh  Mr. 
Pinch  !  I  wonder  you  can  look  me  in  the  face  !  " 

Tom  did  it  though  ;  and  notwithstanding  that  he  has  been 
described  as  stooping  generally,  he  stood  as  upright  then  as 
man  could  stand. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  taking  up  his  handkerchief, 
as  if  he  felt  that  he  should  want  it  soon,  ''  I  will  not  dwell 
upon  the  past.  I  will  spare  you,  and  I  will  spare  myself, 
that  pain  at  least." 

Tom's  was  not  a  very  bright  eye,  but  it  was  a  very  expres- 
sive one  when  he  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  said  : 

''  Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  very  glad  you  will  not  refer  to 
the  past." 

"  The  present  is  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dropping  a 
penny,  "  and  the  sooner  that  is  past,  the  better.  Mr.  Pinch, 
I  will  not  dismiss  you  without  a  word  of  explanation.  Even 
such  a  course  would  be  quite  justifiable  under  the  circum- 
stances ;  but  it  might  wear  an  appearance  of  hurry,  and  I 
will  not  do  it  ;  for  I  am,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  knocking  down 
another  penny,  "  perfectly  self-possessed.  Therefore  I  will 
say  to  you,  what  I  have  already  said  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

Tom  glanced  at  the  old  gentleman,  who  nodded  now  and 
then  as  approving  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  sentences  and  senti- 
ments, but  interposed  between  them  in  no  other  way. 

"  From  fragments  of  a  conversation  which  I  overheard  in 
the  church,  just  now,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  **  betv/een 
yourself  and  Miss  Graham — I  say  fragments,  because  I  was 
slumbering  at  a  considerable  distance  from  you,  when  I  was 
roused  by  your  voices — and  from  what  I  saw,  I  ascertained 
(I  would  have  given  a  good  deal  not  to  have  ascertained,  Mr. 
Pinch),  that  you,  forgetful  of  all  ties  of  duty  and  of  honor, 
sir  ;  regardless  of  the  sacred  laws  of  hospitality,  to  which 
you  were  pledged  as  an  inmate  of  this  house  ;  have  pre- 
sumed to  address  Miss  Graham  with  unreturned  professions 
of  attachment  and  proposals  of  love." 

Tom  looked  at  him  steadily. 

*^  Do  you  deny  it,  sir  ? "  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dropping 
one  pound  two-and-fourpence,  and  making  a  great  business 
of  picking  it  up  again. 

*'  No,  sir,"  replied  Tom.     "  I  do  not." 

"  You  do  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  old 
gentleman.  "  Oblige  me  by  counting  this  money,  Mr.  Pinch, 
and  putting  your  name  to  this  receipt.      \'ou  do  not  ?  " 

No,  Tom  did  not.     He  scorned  to  deny  it.     He  saw  that 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEW  IT.  501 

Mr.  Pecksniff  having  overheard  his  own  disgrace  cared  not 
a  jot  for  sinking  lower  yet  in  his  contempt.  He  saw  that  he 
had  devised  this  fiction  as  the  readiest  means  of  getting  rid  of 
him  at  once,  but  that  it  must  end  in  that  any  way.  He  saw 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff  reckoned  on  his  not  denying  it,  because 
his  doing  so  and  explaining,  would  incense  the  old  man  more 
than  ever  against  Martin,  and  against  Mary  :  while  Peck- 
sniff himself  would  only  have  been  mistaken  in  his  "  frag- 
ments,"    Deny  it !     No. 

^'  You  find  the  amount  correct,  do  you,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  "  asked 
Pecksniff. 

"  Quite  correct,  sir,"  answered  Tom. 

"A  person  is  waiting  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
"  to  carry  your  luggage  wherever  you  please.  We  part,  Mr. 
Pinch,  at  once,  and  are  strangers  from  this  time." 

Something  without  a  name  ;  compassion,  sorrow,  old 
tenderness,  mistaken  gratitude,  habit  :  none  of  these,  and 
yet  all  of  them  ;  smote  upon  Tom's  gentle  heart,  at  parting. 
There  was  no  such  soul  as  Pecksniff's  in  that  carcass  ;  and 
yet,  though  his  speaking  out  had  not  involved  the  comprom- 
ise of  one  he  loved,  he  couldn't  have  denounced  the  very 
shape  and  figure  of  the  man.     Not  even  then. 

**  I  will  not  say,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shedding  tears, 
"  what  a  blow  this  is.  I  W'ill  not  say  how  much  it  tries  me  ; 
how  it  works  upon  my  nature  ;  how  it  grates  upon  my  feel- 
ings. I  do  not  care  for  that.  I  can  endure  as  well  as 
another  man.  But  what  I  have  to  hope,  and  what  you  have 
to  hope,  Mr.  Pinch  (otherwise  a  great  responsibility  rests 
upon  you),  is,  that  this  deception  may  not  alter  my  ideas  of 
humanity  ;  that  it  may  not  impair  my  freshness,  or  contract, 
if  I  may  use  the  expression,  my  pinions.  I  hope  it  will  not  ; 
I  don't  think  it  will.  It  may  be  a  comfort  to  you,  if  not  now, 
at  some  future  time,  to  know,  that  I  shall  endeavor  not  to 
think  the  worse  of  my  fellow-creatures  in  general,  for  what 
has  passed  between  us.     Farewell  !  " 

Tom  had  meant  to  spare  him  one  little  puncturation  with 
a  lancet,  which  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  administer,  but  he 
changed  his  mind  on  hearing  this,  and  said  : 

"  I  think  you  left  something  in  the  church,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  *'  I  am  not 
aware  that  I  did." 

"  This  is  your  double  eye-glass,  I  believe  ? "  said  Tom. 

"  Oh  !"  cried  Pecksniff,  with  some  degree  of  confusion. 
*'  I  am  obliged  to  you.     Put  it  dow^n,  if  you  please." 


502  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  found  it,"  said  Tom,  slowly,  "when  I  went  to  bolt  the 
vestry-window,  in  the  pew." 

So  he  had.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  taken  it  off  when  he  was 
bobbing  up  and  down,  lest  it  should  strike  against  the  panel- 
ing ;  and  had  forgotten  it.  Going  back  to  the  church  with 
his  mind  full  of  having  been  watched,  and  wondering  very 
much  from  what  part,  Tom's  attention  was  caught  by  the  door 
of  the  state  pew  standing  open.  Looking  into  it  he  found  the 
glass.  And  thus  he  knew,  and  by  returning  it  gave  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff the  information  that  he  knew,  where  the  listener  had 
been;  and  that  instead  of  overhearing  fragments  of  the  con- 
versation, he  must  have  rejoiced  in  every  word  of  it, 

**  I  am  glad  he's  gone,"  said  Martin,  drawing  a  long  breath 
when  Tom  had  left  the  room. 

"It  is  a  relief,"  assented  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  It  is  a  great 
relief.  But  having  discharged — I  hope  with  tolerable  firmness 
— the  duty  which  I  owed  to  society,  I  will  now,  my  dear  sir, 
if  you  will  give  me  leave,  retire  to  shed  a  few  tears  in  the 
back  garden,  as  an  humble  individual." 

Tom  went  up-stairs;  cleared  his  shelf  of  books;  packed 
them  up  with  his  music  and  an  old  fiddle  in  his  trunk;  got 
out  his  clothes  (they  were  not  so  many  that  they  made  his 
head  ache);  put  them  on  the  top  of  his  books;  and  went  into 
the  work-room  for  his  case  of  instruments.  There  was  a 
ragged  stool  there,  with  the  horse-hair  all  sticking  out  of  the 
top  like  a  wig  ;  a  very  beast  of  a  stool  in  itself;  on  which  he 
had  taken  up  his  daily  seat,  year  after  year,  during  the 
whole  period  of  his  service.  They  had  grown  older  and 
shabbier  in  company.  Pupils  had  served  their  time;  seasons 
had  come  and  gone;  Tom  and  the  worn-out  stool  had  held 
together  through  it  all.  That  part  of  the  room  was  tradi- 
tionally called  "  Tom's  corner."  It  had  been  assigned  to 
him  at  first  because  of  its  being  situated  in  a  strong  draught 
and  a  great  way  from  the  fire;  and  he  had  occupied  it  ever 
since.  There  were  portraits  of  him  on  the  wall,  with  all  his 
weak  points  monstrously  portrayed.  Diabolical  sentiments, 
foreign  to  his  character,  were  represented  as  issuing  from  his 
mouth  in  fat  balloons.  Every  pupil  had  added  something, 
even  unto  fancy  portraits  of  his  father  with  one  eye,  and  of  his 
mother  with  a  disproportionate  nose,  and  especially  of  his 
sister:  who  being  presented  as  extremely  beautiful,  made  full 
amends  to  Tom  for  any  other  joke.  Under  less  uncommon 
circumstances,  it  would  have  cut  Tom  to  the  heart  to  leave 
these  things,  and  think  that  he  saw  them  for  the   last   time; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  503 

but  it  didn't  now.  There  was  no  Pecksniff;  there  never 
had  been  a  Pecksniff;  and  all  his  other  griefs  were  swallowed 
up  in  that. 

So  when  he  returned  into  the  bedroom,  and,  having  fas- 
tened his  box  and  a  carpet-bag,  put  on  his  walking  gaiters, 
and  his  great  coat,  and  his  hat,  and  taken  his  stick  in  his 
hand,  looked  round  it  for  the  last  time.  Early  on  summer 
mornings,  and  by  the  light  of  private  candle-ends  on  winter 
nights,  he  had  read  himself  half  blind  in  this  same  room.  He 
had  tried  in  this  same  room  to  learn  the  fiddle  under  the  bed- 
clothes, but  yielding  to  objections  from  the  other  pupils  had 
reluctantly  abandoned  the  design.  At  any  other  time  he 
would  have  parted  from  it  with  a  pang,  thinking  of  all  he 
had  learned  there,  of  the  many  hours  he  had  passed  there; 
for  the  love  of  his  very  dreams.  But  there  was  no  Pecksniff; 
there  never  had  been  a  Pecksniff;  and  the  unreality  of 
Pecksniff  extended  itself  to  the  chamber,  in  which,  sitting  on 
one  particular  bed,  the  thing  supposed  to  be  that  great 
abstraction  had  often  preached  morality  with  such  effect, 
that  Tom  had  felt  a  moisture  in  his  eyes,  while  hanging 
breathless  on  the  words. 

The  man  engaged  to  bear  his  box — Tom  knew  him  well ; 
a  Dragon  man — came  stamping  up  the  stairs,  and  made  a 
roguish  bow  to  Tom  (to  whom  in  common  times  he  would 
have  nodded  with  a  grin),  as  though  he  were  aware  of  what 
had  happened,  and  wished  him  to  perceive  it  made  no  differ- 
ence in  him.  It  was  clumsily  done;  he  was  a  mere  waterer  of 
horses;  but  Tom  liked  the  man  for  it,  and  felt  it  more  than 
going  away. 

Tom  would  have  helped  him  with  the  box,  but  he  made 
no  more  of  it,  though  it  was  a  heavy  one,  than  an  elephant 
would  have  made  of  a  castle  ;  just  swinging  it  on  his  back 
and  bowling  down  stairs  as  if,  being  naturally  a  heavy  sort  of 
fellow,  he  could  carry  a  box  infinitely  better  than  he  could  go 
alone.  Tom  took  the  carpet-bag  and  went  down  stairs  along 
with  him.  At  the  outer  door  stood  Jane,  crying  with  all  her 
might;  and  on  the  steps  was  Mrs.  Lupin,  sobbing  bitterly 
and  putting  out  her  hand  for  Tom  to  shake. 

"  You're  coming  to  the  Dragon,  Mr.  Pinch  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  "no.  I  shall  walk  to  Salisbury  to-night. 
I  couldn't  stay  here.  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  make  me  so 
unhappy,  Mrs.  Lupin." 

"  But  you'll  come  to  the  Dragon,  Mr.  Pinch.  .  If  it's  only 
for  to-night.     To  see  me,  you  know:  not  as  a  traveler." 


504  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWiT. 

"  God  bless  my  soul  !"  said  Tom,  wiping  his  eyes.  "  The 
kindness  of  people  is  enough  to  break  one's  heart  !  I  mean 
to  go  to  Salisbury  to-night,  my  dear  good  creature.  If  you'll 
take  care  of  my  box  for  me,  till  I  write  for  it,  I  shall  consider 
it  the  greatest  kindness  you  can  do  me." 

"  I  wish,"  cried  Mrs.  Lupin,  '*  there  were  twenty  boxes, 
Mr.  Pinch,  that  I  might  have  'em  all." 

"  Thank'ee,"  said  Tom.    ''  It's  like  you.    Good-by.    Good- 

There  were  several  people,  young  and  old,  standmg  about 
the  door,  some  of  whom  cried  with  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  while  others 
tried  to  keep  up  a  stout  heart,  as  Tom  did  ;  and  others  were 
absorbed  in  admiration  of  Mr.  Pecksniff — a  man  who  could 
build  a  church,  as  one  may  say,  by  squinting  at  a  sheet  of 
paper  ;  and  others  were  divided  between  that  feeling,  and 
sympathy  with  Tom.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  appeared  on  the 
top  of  the  steps,  simultaneously  with  his  old  pupil,  and  while 
Tom  was  talking  with  Mrs.  Lupin  kept  his  hand  stretched 
out,  as  though  he  said  "  Go  forth  !  "  When  Tom  went  forth, 
and  had  turned  the  corner,  Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head, 
shut  his  eyes,  and  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  shut  the  door.  On 
which,  the  best  of  Tom's  supporters  said  he  must  have  done 
some  dreadful  deed,  or  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  never 
could  have  felt  like  that.  If  it  had  been  a  common  quarrel 
(they  observed),  he  would  have  said  something,  but  when  he 
didn't,  Mr.  Pinch  must  have  shocked  him  dreadfully. 

Tom  was  out  of  hearing  of  their  shrewd  opinions,  and 
plodded  on  as  steadily  as  he  could  go,  until  he  came  within 
sight  of  the  turnpike  where  the  tollman's  family  had  cried 
out  "  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  that  frosty  morning  when  he  went  to 
meet  young  Martin.  He  had  got  through  the  village,  and 
this  toll-bar  was  his  last  trial  ;  but  when  the  infant  toll-takers 
cam*;  screeching  out,  he  had  half  a  mind  to  run  for  it,  and 
make  a  bolt  across  the  country. 

"  Why  deary  Mr.  Pinch  !  oh  deary  sir  !  "  exclaimed  the 
tollman's  wife.  *' What  an  unlikely  time  for  you  to  be  a 
going  this  way  with  a  bag  !  " 

*'  I  am  going  to  Salisbury,"  said  Tom. 

*'  Why,  goodness,  where's  the  gig  then  ?  "  cried  the  toU- 
m.in's  wife,  looking  down  the  road,  as  if  she  thought  Tom 
might  have  been  upset  without  observing  it. 

*'  I  haven't  got  it,"  said  Tom.  "  I — "  he  couldn't  evade 
it  ;  he  felt  she  would  have  him  in  the  next  question,  if  he 
gc*.  over  this  one.     "  I  have  left  Mr.  Pecksniff." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  505 

The  tollman — a  crusty  customer,  always  smoking  solitary 
pipes  in  a  Windsor  chair,  inside,  set  artfully  between  two 
little  windows  that  looked  up  and  down  the  road,  so  that 
when  he  saw  any  thing  coming  up,  he  might  hug  himself  on 
having  toll  to  take,  and  when  he  saw  it  going  down,  might 
hug  himself  on  having  taken  it — the  tollman  was  out  in  an 
instant. 

*'  Left  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  the  tollman. 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  left  him." 

The  tollman  looked  at  his  wife,  uncertain  whether  to  ask  her 
if  she  had  any  thing  to  suggest,  or  to  order  her  to  mind  the 
children.  Astonishment  making  him  surly,  he  preferred  the 
latter,  and  sent  her  into  the  toll-house,  with  a  flea  in  her  ear. 

''  You  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  the  tollman,  folding  his 
arms,  and  spreading  his  legs.  "  I  should  as  soon  have 
thought  of  his  head  leaving  him." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Tom,  "  so  should  I,  yesterday.  Good- 
night !  " 

If  a  heavy  drove  of  oxen  hadn't  come  by,  immediately, 
the  tollman  would  have  gone  down  to  the  village  straight, 
to  inquire  into  it.  As  things  turned  out,  he  smoked  another 
pipe,  and  took  his  wife  into  his  confidence.  But  their  united 
sagacity  could  make  nothing  of  it,and  they  went  to  bed — met- 
aphorically— in  the  dark.  But  several  times  that  night,  when 
a  wagon  or  other  vehicle  came  through,  and  the  driver  asked 
the  toll-keeper  "  What  news  ?  "  he  looked  at  the  man  by  the 
light  of  his  lantern,  to  assure  himself  he  had  an  interest  in 
the  subject,  and  then  said,  wrapping  his  watch-coat  round 
his  legs. 

"  You've  heard  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  down  yonder  ? " 

"  Ah  !  sure-ly  !  " 

"  And  of  his  young  man  Mr.  Pinch  p'raps  ?  ** 

''  Ah  !  " 

"  They've  parted." 

After  every  one  of  these  disclosures,  the  tollman  plunged 
into  his  house  again,  and  was  seen  no  more,  while  the  other 
side  went  on,  in  great  amazement. 

But  this  was  long  after  Tom  was  abed,  and  Tom  was  now 
with  his  face  toward  Salisbury,  doing  his  best  to  get  there. 
The  evening  was  beautiful  at  first,  but  it  became  cloudy  and 
dull  at  sunset,  and  the  rain  fell  heavily  soon  afterward.  For 
ten  long  miles  he  plodded  on,  wet  through,  until  at  last  the 
lights  appeared,  and  he  came  into  the  welcome  precincts  of 
the  city. 


5o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

He  went  to  the  inn  where  he  had  waited  for  Martin,  and 
briefly  answering  their  inquiries  after  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ordered 
a  bed.  He  had  po  heart  for  tea  or  supper,  meat  or  drink  of 
any  kind,  but  sat  by  himself  before  an  empty  table  in  the 
public  room  while  the  bed  was  getting  ready,  revolving  in 
his  mind  all  that  had  happened  that  eventful  day,  and 
wondering  what  he  could  or  should  do  for  the  future.  It 
was  a  great  relief  when  the  chambermaid  came  in,  and  said 
the  bed  was  ready. 

It  was  a  low  four-poster  shelving  downward  in  the  center 
like  a  trough,  and  the  room  was  crowded  with  impracticable 
tables  and  exploded  chests  of  drawers,  full  of  damp  linen. 
A  graphic  representation  in  oil  of  a  remarkably  fat  ox  hung 
over  the  fireplace,  and  the  portrait  of  some  former  landlord 
(who  might  have  been  the  ox's  brother,  he  was  so  like  him), 
stared  roundly  in,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  A  variety  of 
queer  smells  were  partially  quenched  in  the  prevailing  scent 
of  very  old  lavender  ;  and  the  window  had  not  been  opened 
for  such  a  long  space  of  time,  that  it  pleaded,  immemorial 
usage,  and  wouldn't  come  open  now. 

These  were  trifles  in  themselves,  but  they  added  to  the 
strangeness  of  the  place,  and  did  not  induce  Tom  to  forget 
his  new  position.  Pecksniff  had  gone  out  of  the  world — 
had  never  been  in  it — and  it  was  as  much  as  Tom  could  do 
to  say  his  prayers  without  him.  But  he  felt  happier  after- 
ward, and  went  to  sleep,  and  dreamed  about  him  as  he 
Never  Was. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

TREATS   OF    TODGERS's  AGAIN  ;    AND  OF  ANOTHER  BLIGHTED 
PLANT  BESIDES  THE  PLANTS  UPON  THE  LEADS. 

Early  on  the  day  next  after  that  on  which  she  bade  adieu 
to  the  halls  of  her  youth  and  the  scenes  of  her  childhood, 
Miss  Pecksniff,  arriving  safely  at  the  coach-office  in  London, 
was  there  received,  and  conducted  to  her  peaceful  home 
beneath  the  shadow  of  the  monument,  by  Mrs.  Todgers. 
M.  Todgers  looked  a  little  worn  by  cares  of  gravy  and  other 
such  solicitudes  arising  out  of  her  establishment,  but  dis- 
played her  usual  earnestness  and  warmth  of  manner. 

"  And  how,  my  sweet  Miss  Pecksniff,"  said  she,  '*  how  is 
your  princely  pa  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  507 

Miss  Pecksniff  signified  (in  confidence)  that  he  contem- 
plated the  introduction  of  a  princely  ma  ;  and  repeated  the 
sentiment  that  she  wasn't  blind,  and  wasn't  quite  a  fool,  and 
wouldn't  bear  it. 

Mrs.  Todgers  was  more  shocked  by  the  intelligence  than 
any  one  could  have  expected.  She  was  quite  bitter.  She 
said  there  was  no  truth  in  man,  and  that  the  warmer  he 
expressed  himself,  as  a  general  principle,  the  falser  and 
more  treacherous  he  was.  She  foresaw  with  astonishing 
clearness  that  the  object  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  attachment  was 
designing,  worthless,  and  wicked  ;  and  receiving  from 
Charity  the  fullest  confirmation  of  these  views,  protested  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  that  she  loved  Miss  Pecksniff  like  a  sister, 
and  felt  her  injuries  as  if  they  were  her  own, 

*'  Your  real  darling  sister,  I  have  not  seen  her  more  than 
once  since  her  marriage,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  '*  and  then  I 
thought  her  looking  poorly.  My  sweet  Miss  Pecksniff,  I 
always  thought  that  you  was  to  be  the  lady  ? " 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  "  cried  Cherry,  shaking  her  head.  "  Oh 
no,  Mrs.  Todgers.  Thank  you.  No  !  not  for  any  consid- 
eration he  could  offer." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  with  a 
sigh,  "  I  feared  it  all  along.  But  the  misery  we  have  had 
from  that  match,  here  among  ourselves  in  this  house,  my 
dear  Miss  Pecksniff,  nobody  would  believe." 

"  Lor,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

"  Awful,  awful  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  strong 
emphasis.  ''  You  recollect  our  youngest  gentleman,  my 
dear  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Cherry. 

'*  You  might  have  observed,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "how 
he  used  to  watch  your  sister  ;  and  that  a  kind  of  stony 
dumbness  came  over  him  whenever  she  was  in  company  ?  " 

*'  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  any  thing  of  the  sort,"  said 
Cherry,  in  a  peevish  manner.  "  What  nonsense,  Mrs. 
Todgers  ! " 

'*  My  dear,"  returned  that  lady  in  a  hollow  voice,  "  I  have 
seen  him,  again  and  again,  sitting  over  his  pie  at  dinner, 
with  his  spoon  a  perfect  fixture  in  his  mouth,  looking  at  your 
sister.  I  have  seen  him  standing  in  a  corner  of  our  drawing- 
room,  gazing  at  her,  in  such  a  lonely,  melancholy  state,  that 
he  was  more  like  a  pump  than  a  man,  and  might  have  drawed 
tears." 

"  I  never  saw  it  !  "  cried   Cherry  ;  *'  that's  all  I  can  say." 


5o5  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  But  when  the  marriage  took  place,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
proceeding  with  her  subject,  "  when  it  was  in  the  ])aper,  and 
was  read  out  here  at  breakfast,  I  thought  he  had  taken  leave 
of  his  senses,  I  did  indeed.  The  violence  of  that  young 
man,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniff  ;  the  frightful  opinions  he 
expressed  upon  the  subject  of  self-destruction  ;  the  extraor- 
dinary actions  he  performed  with  his  tea  ;  the  clenching  way 
in  which  he  bit  his  bread  and  butter  ;  the  manner  in  which 
he  taunted  Mr.  Jinkins  ;  all  combined  to  form  a  picture 
never  to  be  forgotten." 

"  It's  a  pity  he  didn't  destroy  himself,  I  think,"  observed 
Miss  Pecksniff. 

^'  Himself  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  it  took  another  turn  at 
night.  He  was  for  destroying  other  people  then.  There  was 
a  little  chaffing  going  on — I  hope  you  don't  consider  that  a 
low  expression,  Miss  Pecksniff  ;  it  is  always  in  our  gentle- 
men's mouths — a  little  chaffing  going  on,  my  dear,  among 
'em  all  in  good  nature,  when  suddenly  he  rose  up,  foaming 
in  his  fury,  and  but  for  being  held  by  three,  would  have  had 
Mr.  Jinkins's  life  with  a  boot-jack." 

Miss  Pecksniff's  face  expressed  supreme  indifference. 

''And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "now  he  is  the  meekest 
of  men.  You  can  almost  bring  the  tears  into  his  eyes  by 
looking  at  him.  He  sits  with  me  the  whole  day  long  on 
Sundays,  talking  in  such  a  dismal  way  that  I  find  it  next  to 
impossible  to  keep  my  spirits  up  equal  to  the  accommoda- 
tion of  the  boarders.  His  only  comfort  is  in  female  society. 
He  takes  me  half-price  to  the  play,  to  an  extent  which  I 
sometimes  fear  is  beyond  his  means  ;  and  I  see  the  tears  a 
standing  in  his  eyes  during  the  whole  performance — particu- 
larly if  it  is  any  thing  of  a  comic  nature.  The  turn  I  expe- 
rienced only  yesterday,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  putting  her  hand 
to  her  side,  "when  the  housemaid  threw  his  bedside  carpet 
out  of  the  window  of  his  room,  while  I  was  sitting  here,  no 
one  can  imagine.  I  thought  it  was  him,  and  that  he  had 
done  it  at  last  !  " 

The  contempt  with  which  Miss  Charity  received  this 
pathetic  account  of  the  state  to  which  the  youngest  gentle- 
man in  company  was  reduced,  did  not  say  much  for  her 
power  of  sympathizing  with  that  unfortunate  character.  She 
treated  it  with  great  levity,  and  went  on  to  inform  herself, 
then  and  afterward,  whether  any  other  changes  had  occurred 
in  the  commercial  boarding-house. 

Mr.  Bailey  was  gone,  and  had  been  succeeded  (such  is  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


509 


decay  of  human  greatness  !)  by  an  old  woman  whose  name 
was  reported  to  be  Tamaroo — which  seemed  an  impossibility. 
Indeed  it  appeared  in  the  fullness  of  time  that  the  jocular 
boarder  had  appropriated  the  word  from  an  English  ballad, 
in  which  it  is  supposed  to  express  the  bold  and  fiery  nature 
of  a  certain  hackney-coachman  ;  and  that  it  was  bestowed 
upon  Mr.  Bailey's  successor  by  reason  of  her  having  nothing 
fiery  about  her,  except  an  occasional  attack  of  that  fire  which 
is  called  St.  Anthony's.  This  ancient  female  had  been 
engaged,  in  fuUfilment  of  a  vow,  registered  by  Mrs.  Todgers, 
that  no  more  boys  should  darken  the  commercial  doors  ;  and 
she  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  total  absence  of  all  com- 
prehension upon  every  subject  whatever.  She  was  a  per- 
fect tomb  for  messages  and  small  parcels ;  and  when 
dispatched  to  the  post-office  with  letters,  had  been  frequently 
seen  endeavoring  to  insinuate  them. into  casual  chinks  in 
private  doors,  under  the  delusion  that  any  door  with  a  hole 
in  it  would  answer  the  purpose.  She  was  a  very  little  old 
woman,  and  always  wore  a  very  coarse  apron  with  a  bib 
before  and  a  loop  behind,  together  with  bandages  on  her 
wrists,  which  appeared  to  be  afflicted  with  an  everlasting 
sprain.  She  was  on  all  occasions  chary  of  opening  the  street- 
door,  and  ardent  to  shut  it  again  ;  and  she  waited  at  table  in 
a  bonnet. 

This  was  the  only  great  change  over  and  above  the  change 
which  had  fallen  on  the  youngest  gentleman.  As  for  him, 
he  more  than  corroborated  the  account  of  Mrs.  Todgers  ; 
possessing  greater  sensibility  than  ever  she  had  given  him 
credit  for.  He  entertained  some  terrible  notions  of  Destiny, 
among  other  matters,  and  talked  much  about  people's 
"  missions  ;  "  upon  which  he  seemed  to  have  some  private 
information  not  easily  attainable,  as  he  knew  it  had  been 
poor  Merry's  mission  to  crush  him  in  the  bud.  He  was  very 
frail,  and  tearful  ;  for  being  aware  that  a  shepherd's  mission 
was  to  pipe  to  his  flocks  and  that  a  boatswain's  mission  was 
to  pipe  all  hands,  and  that  one  man's  mission  was  to  be  a 
paid  piper,  and  another  man's  mission  was  to  pay  the  piper,  so 
he  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  his  own  peculiar  mission  was 
to  pipe  his  eye.     Which  he  did  perpetually. 

He  often  informed  Mrs.  Todgers  that  the  sun  had  set 
upon  him  ;  that  the  billows  had  rolled  over  him  ;  that  the 
car  of  Juggernaut  had  crushed  him  ;  and  also  that  the 
deadly  Upas  tree  of  Java  had  blighted  hint  liis  name  waj 
Moddle. 


5IO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

Toward  this  most  unhappy  Moddle,  Miss  Pecksniil  con- 
ducted herself  at  first  with  distant  haughtiness,  being  in  no 
humor  to  be  entertained  with  dirges  in  honor  of  her  married 
sister.  The  poor  young  gentleman  was  additionally  crushed 
by  this,  and  remonstrated  with  Mrs.  Todgers  on  the  subject. 

"  Even  she  turns  from  me,  Mrs.    Todgers,"  said   Moddle. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  try  and  be  a  little  bit  more  cheer- 
ful, sir?"  retorted  Mrs  Todgers. 

"  Cheerful,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  cheerful  !  "  cried  the  youngest 
gentleman  :  "  when  she  reminds  me  of  days  forever  fled, 
Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

**  Then  you  had  better  avoid  her  for  a  short  time,  if  she 
does,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  and  come  to  know  her  again,  by 
degrees.     That's  my  advice." 

"  But  I  can't  avoid  her,"  replied  Moddle.  "  I  haven't 
strength  of  mind  to  do  it.  Oh,  Mrs.  Todgers,  if  you  knew 
what  a  comfort  her  nose  is  to  me  !  " 

"  Her  nose,  sir  !  "  Mrs.  Todgers  cried. 

"  Her  profile,  in  general,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman, 
"but  particularly  her  nose.  It's  so  like  ;"  here  he  yielded  to 
a  burst  of  grief  ;  "  it's  so  like  hers  who  is  another's,  Mrs. 
Todgers  !  " 

The  observant  matron  did  not  fail  to  report  this  conver- 
sation to  Charity,  who  laughed  at  the  time,  but  treated  Mr. 
Moddle  that  very  evening  with  increased  consideration,  and 
presented  her  side-face  to  him  as  much  as  possible.  Mr. 
Moddle  was  not  less  sentimental  than  usual  ;  was  rather 
more  so,  if  any  thing  ;  but  he  sat  and  stared  at  her  with 
glistening  eyes,  and  seemed  grateful. 

*'  Well,  sir  !  "  said  the  lady  of  the  boarding-house  next 
day.  *'  You  held  up  your  head  last  night.  You're  coming 
round,  I  think." 

"  Only  because  she's  so  like  her  who  is  another's,  Mrs. 
Todgers,"  rejoined  the  youth.  *' When  she  talks,  and  when 
she  smiles,  I  think  I'm  looking  on  her  brow  again,  Mrs. 
Todgers." 

This  was  likewise  carried  to  Charity,  who  talked  and 
smiled  next  evening  in  her  most  engaging  manner,  and 
rallying  Mr.  Moddle  on  the  lowness  of  his  spirits,  challenged 
him  to  play  a  rubber  at  cribbage.  Mr.  Moddle  taking  up 
the  gauntlet,  they  played  several  rubbers  for  sixpences,  and 
Charity  won  them  all.  This  may  have  been  partially  attribut- 
able to  the  gallantry  of  the  youngest  gentleman,  but  it  was 
certainly  referable  to  the  state  of  his  feelings  also  ;  for  his 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  511 

eyes  being  frequently  dimmed  by  tears,  he  thought  that 
aces  were  tens,  and  knaves  queens,  which  at  times  occasioned 
some  confusion  in  his  play. 

On  the  seventh  night  of  cribbage,  when  Mrs.  Todgers, 
sitting  by,  proposed  that  instead  of  gambling  they  should 
play  for  "  love,"  Mr.  Moddle  was  seen  to  change  color.  On 
the  fourteenth  night,  he  kissed  Miss  Pecksniff's  snuffers,  in 
the  passage,  when  she  went  up  stairs  to  bed  :  meaning  to 
have  kissed  her  hand,  but  missing  it. 

In  short,  Mr.  Moddle  began  to  be  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  Miss  Pecksniff's  mission  was  to  comfort  him  ;  and 
Miss  Pecksniff  began  to  speculate  on  the  probability  of  its 
being  her  mission  to  become  ultimately  Mrs.  Moddle.  He 
was  a  young  gentleman  (Miss  Pecksniff  was  not  a  very  young 
lady)  with  rising  prospects,  and  ''  almost  "  enough  to  live 
on.     Really  it  looked  very  well. 

Besides, — besides, — he  had  been  regarded  as  devoted  to 
Merry.  Merry  had  joked  about  him,  and  had  once  spoken 
of  it  to  her  sister  as  a  conquest.  He  was  better  looking, 
better  shaped,  better  spoken,  better  tempered,  better  man- 
nered than  Jonas.  He  was  easy  to  manage,  could  be  made 
to  consult  the  humors  of  his  betrothed,  and  could  be  shown 
off  like  a  lamb  when  Jonas  was  a  bear.     There  was  the  rub  ! 

In  the  meantime  the  cribbage  went  on,  and  Mrs.  Todgers 
went  off  ;  for  the  youngest  gentleman,  dropping  her  society, 
began  to  take  Miss  Pecksniff  to  the  play.  He  also  began,  as 
Mrs.  Todgers  said,  to  slip  home  "  in  his  dinner-times,"  and 
to  get  away  from  "  the  office  "  at  unholy  seasons  ;  and  twice, 
as  he  informed  Mrs.  Todgers  himself,  he  received  anony- 
mous letters,  inclosing  cards  from  furniture  warehouses — 
clearly  the  act  of  that  ungentlemanly  ruffian  Jinkins  :  only 
he  hadn't  evidence  enough  to  call  him  out  upon.  All  of 
which,  so  Mrs.  Todgers  told  Miss  Pecksniff,  spoke  as  plain 
English  as  the  shining  sun. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Pecksniff,  you  may  depend  upon  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Todgers,  "  that  he  is  burning  to  propose." 

"  My  goodness  me,  why  don't  he,  then  ?  "  cried  Cherry. 

"  Men  are  so  much  more  timid  than  we  think  'em,  my 
dear,"  returned  Mrs.  Todgers.  '^  They  balk  themselves 
continually.  I  saw  the  words  on  Todgers's  lips  for  months 
and  months,  and  months  before  he  said  'em." 

Miss  Pecksniff  submitted  that  Todgers  might  not  have 
been  a  fair  specimen. 

"  Oh  yes,  he  was.     Oh,   bless  you,  yes,  my  dear.     I  was 


512        •  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

very   particular   in   those   days,    I   assure  you,"  said    Mrs} 
Todgers,  bridling.     *'  No,  no.     You  give  Mr.  Moddle  a  little 
encouragement,  Miss   Pecksniff,  if  you  wish  him  to   speak  ; 
and  he'll  speak  fast  enough,  depend  upon  it." 

''  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  encouragement  he  would 
have,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  returned  Charity.  "  He  walks  with 
me,  and  plays  cards  with  me,  and  he  comes  and  sits  alone 
with  me." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  **  That's  indispensable, 
my  dear." 

"  And  he  sits  very  close  to  me." 
**  Also  quite  correct,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 
"  And  he  looks  at  me." 
*'  To  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 
"  And  he  has  his  arm  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  or  sofa, 
or  whatever  it  is — behind  me,  you  know." 
*'  /  should  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 
*'  And  then  he  begins  to  cry  !  " 

Mrs.  Todgers  admitted  that  he  might  do  better  than  that  ; 
and  might  undoubtedly  profit  by  the  recollection  of  the 
great  Lord  Nelson's  signal  at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar.  Still, 
she  said,  he  would  come  round,  or,  not  to  mince  the  matter, 
would  be  brought  round,  if  Miss  Pecksniff  took  up  a  decided 
position,  and  plainly  showed  him  that  it  must  be  done. 

Determining  to  regulate  her  conduct  by  this  opinion,  the 
young  lady  received  Mr.  Moddle,  on  the  earliest  subsequent 
occasion,  with  an  air  of  constraint  ;  and  gradually  leading 
him  to  inquire,  in  a  dejected  manner,  why  she  was  so  changed, 
confessed  to  him  that  she  felt  it  necessary  for  their  mutual 
peace  and  happiness  to  take  a  decided  step.  They  had  been 
much  together  lately,  she  observed,  much  together,  and  had 
tasted  the  sweets  of  a  genuine  reciprocity  of  sentiment. 
She  never  could  forget  him,  nor  could  she  ever  cease  to 
think  of  him  with  feelings  of  the  liveliest  friendship  ;  but 
people  had  begun  to  talk,  the  thing  had  been  observed,  and 
it  was  necessary  that  they  should  be  nothing  more  to  each 
other,  than  any  gentleman  and  lady  in  society  usually  are. 
She  was  glad  she  had  had  the  resolution  to  say  thus  much 
before  her  feelings  had  been  tried  too  far  ;  they  had  been 
greatly  tried,  she  would  admit  ;  but  though  she  was  weak 
and  silly,  she  would  soon  get  the  better  of  it,  she  hoped. 

Moddle,  who  had  by  this  time  become  in  the  last  degree 
maudlin,  and  who  wept  abundantly,  inferred  from  the  fore- 
going avowal,  that  it  was  his  mission  to  communicate  to  others 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  513 

the  blight  which  had  fallen  on  himself  ;  and  that,  being  a 
kind  of  unintentional  vampire,  he  had  had  Miss  Pecksniff 
assigned  to  him  by  the  fates,  as  victim  number  one.  Miss 
Pecksniff  controverting  this  opinion  as  sinful,  Moddle  was 
goaded  on  to  ask  whether  she  could  be  contented  with  a 
blighted  heart  ;  and  it  appearing  on  further  examination 
that  she  could  be,  plighted  his  dismal  troth,  which  was 
accepted  and  returned. 

He  bore  his  good  fortune  with  the  utmost  moderation. 
Instead  of  being  triumphant,  he  shed  more  tears  than  he  had 
ever  been  known  to  shed  before  ;   and  sobbing,  said  : 

"  Oh  !  what  a  day  this  has  been  !  I  can't  go  back  to  the 
office  this  afternoon.  Oh,  what  a  trying  day  this  has  been  ! 
Good  gracious  !  " 

CHAPTER  XXXHI. 

FURTHER  PROCEEDINGS  IN  EDEN,  AND  A  PROCEEDING  OUT 
OF  IT.  MARTIN  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY  OF  SOME  IMPOR- 
TANCE. 

From  Mr.  Moddle  to  Eden  is  an  easy  and  natural  transi- 
tion. Mr.  Moddle,  living  in  the  atmosphere  of  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's love,  dwelt  (if  he  had  but  known  it)  in  a  terrestrial 
Paradise.  The  thriving  city  of  Eden  was  also  a  terrestrial 
Paradise,  upon  the  showing  of  its  proprietors.  The  beauti- 
ful Miss  Pecksniff  might  have  been  poetically  described  as 
a  something  too  good  for  man  in  his  fallen  and  degraded 
state.  That  was  exactly  the  character  of  the  thriving  city 
of  Eden,  as  poetically  heightened  by  Zephaniah  Scadder, 
General  Choke,  and  other  worthies  :  part  and  parcel  of  the 
talons  of  that  great  American  eagle,  which  is  always  airing 
itself  sky-high  in  purest  ether,  and  never,  no  never,  never, 
tumbles  down  with  draggled  wings  into  the  mud. 

When  Mark  Tapley,  leaving  Martin  in  the  architectural 
and  surveying  offices,  had  effectually  strengthened  and  en- 
couraged his  own  spirits  by  the  contemplation  of  their  joint 
misfortunes,  he  proceeded,  with  new  cheerfulness,  in  search 
of  help  :  congratulating  himself,  as  he  went  along,  on  the 
enviable  position  to  which  he  had  at  last  attained. 

"  I  used  to  think,  sometimes,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "as  a 
desolate  island  would  suit  me,  but  I  should  only  have  had 
myself  to  provide  for  there,  and  being  naturally  a  easy  man 
to  manage,  there  wouldn't   have   been   much  credit  in  that. 


514  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Now  here  I've  got  my  partner  to  take  care  on,  and  he's 
something  like  the  sort  of  man  for  the  purpose.  I  want  a 
man  as  is  always  a  sliding  off  his  legs  when  he  ought  to  be  on 
'em.  I  want  a  man  as  is  so  low  down  in  the  school  of  life 
that  he's  always  a  making  figures  of  one  in  his  copy-book, 
and  can't  get  no  further.  I  want  a  man  as  is  his  own  great- 
coat and  cloak,  and  is  always  a  wrapping  himself  up  in  him- 
self. And  I  have  got  him  too,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  after  a 
moment's  silence.  ■  "  What  a  happiness  !  " 

He  paused  to  look  round,  uncertain  to  which  of  the  log- 
houses  he  should  repair. 

*'  I  don't  know  which  to  take,"  he  observed  ;  "that's  the 
truth.  They're  equally  prepossessing  outside,  and  equally 
commodious,  no  doubt,  within  ;  being  fitted  up  with  every 
convenience  that  a  alligator,  in  state  of  natur',  could  pos- 
sibly require.  Let  me  see  !  The  citizen  as  turned  out  last 
night  lives  under  water,  in  the  right-hand  dos;-kennel  at  the 
corner.  I  don't  want  to  trouble  him  if  I  can  help  it,  poor 
man,  for  he  is  a  melancholy  object  ;  a  reg'lar  settler  in 
every  respect.  There's  a  house  with  a  winder,  but  I'm 
afraid  of  their  being  proud.  I  don't  know  whether  a  door 
ain't  too  aristocratic  ;  but  here  goes  for  the  first  one  !  " 

He  went  up  to  the  nearest  cabin,  and  knocked  with  his 
hand.     Being  desired  to  enter,  he  complied. 

*'  Neighbor,"  said  Mark  ;  '*  for  I  am  a  neighbor,  though 
you  don't  know  me  ;  I've  come  a  begging.  Hallo  !  hal — lo  ! 
Am  I  a-bed,  and  dreaming  !  " 

He  made  this  exclamation  on  hearing  his  own  name  pro- 
nounced, and  finding  himself  clasped  about  the  skirts  by  two 
little  boys,  whose  faces  he  had  often  washed,  and  whose  sup- 
pers he  had  often  cooked,  on  board  of  that  noble  and  fast- 
sailing  line  of  packet  ship,  the  Screw. 

"  My  eyes  is  wrong  !  "  said  Mark,  ''  I  don't  believe  'em. 
That  ain't  my  fellow-passenger  yonder,  nursing  her  little  girl, 
who,  I  am  sorry  to  see  is  so  delicate  ;  and  that  ain't  her 
husband  as  come  to  New  York  to  fetch  her.  Nor  these,"  he 
added,  looking  down  upon  the  boys,  "  ain't  them  two  young 
sliavers  as  was  so  familiar  to  me  ;  though  they  are  uncom- 
mon like  'em.     That  I  must  confess." 

The  woman  shed  tears,  in  very  joy  to  see  him  ;  the  man 
shook  both  his  hands,  and  would  not  let  them  go  ;  the  two 
boys  hugged  his  legs  ;  the  sick  child,  in  the  mother's  arms, 
stretched  out  her  burning  little  fingers,  and  muttered,  in  her 
hoarse,  dry  throat,  his  well-remembered  name. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  515 

It  was  the  same  family,  sure  enough.  Altered  by  the  salu- 
brious air  of  Eden.     But  the  same. 

"  This  is  a  new  sort  of  a  morning  call,"  said  Mark,  drawing 
a  long  breath.  "  It  strikes  one  all  of  a  heap.  Wait  a  little 
bit  !  I'm  a  coming  round,  fast.  That'll  do  !  These  gen- 
tlemen ain't  my  friends.  Are  they  on  the  wisiting  list  of 
the  house  ?" 

The  inquiry  referred  to  certain  gaunt  pigs,  who  had 
walked  in  after  him,  and  were  much  interested  in  the  heels 
of  the  family.  As  they  did  not  belong  to  the  mansion,  they 
were  expelled  by  the  two  little  boys. 

"  I  ain't  superstitious  about  toads,"  said  Mark,  looking 
round  the  room,  "  but  if  you  could  prevail  upon  the  two  or 
three  I  see  in  company,  to  step  out  at  the  same  time,  my 
young  friends,  I  think  they'd  find  the  open  air  refreshing. 
Not  that  I  at  all  object  to  'em.  A  very  handsome  animal  is 
a  toad,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  sitting  down  upon  a  stool  :  "  very 
spotted  ;  very  like  a  partickler  style  of  old  gentleman  about 
the  throat  ;  very  bright-eyed,  very  cool,  and  very  slippy. 
But  one  sees  'em  in  the  best  advantage  out  of  doors  per- 
haps.'' 

While  pretending,  with  such  talk  as  this,  to  be  perfectly 
at  his  ease,  and  to  be  the  most  indifferent  and  careless  of 
men,  Mark  Tapley  had  an  eye  on  all  around  him.  The  wan 
and  meager  aspect  of  the  family,  the  changed  looks  of  the 
poor  mother,  the  fevered  child  she  held  in  her  lap,  the  air  of 
great  despondency  and  little  hope  on  every  thing,  were  plain 
to  him,  and  made  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind.  He  saw  it 
all  as  clearly  and  as  quickly,  as  with  his  bodily  eyes  he  saw 
the  rough  shelves  supported  by  pegs  driven  between  the  logs, 
of  which  the  house  was  made  ;  the  flour-cask  in  the  corner, 
serving  also  for  a  table  ;  the  blankets,  spade  and  other 
articles,  against  the  walls  ;  the  damp  that  blotched  the 
ground;  or  the  crop  of  vegetable  rottenness  in  every  crevice 
of  the  hut. 

*'  How  is  it  that  you  have  come  here  ?"  asked  the  man, 
when  their  first  expressions  of  surprise  were  over. 

"  Why,  we  come  by  the  steamer  last  night,"  replied  Mark. 
"  Our  intention  is  to  make  our  fortuns  with  punctuality  and 
dispatch;  and  to  retire  upon  our  property  as  soon  as  ever  it's 
realized.     But  how  are  you  all  ?     You're  looking  noble  I  " 

^'  We  are  but  sickly  now,"  said  the  poor  woman,  bending 
over  her  child,  "  But  we  shall  do  better  when  we  are  sea- 
soned to  the  place." 


5i6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  There  are  some  here,"  thought  Mark,  "  whose  seasoning, 
will  last  forever." 

But  he  said  cheerfully,  "  Do  better!  To  be  sure  you  will. 
We  shall  all  do  better.  What  we've  got  to  do  is,  to  keep  up 
our  spirits,  and  be  neighborly.  We  shall  come  all  right  in 
the  end,  never  fear.  That  reminds  me,  by-the-by,  that  my 
partner's  all  wrong  just  at  present;  and  that  I  looked  in,  to 
beg  for  him;  I  wish  you'd  come,  and  give  me  your  opinion  of 
him,  master." 

That  must  have  been  a  very  unreasonable  request  on  the 
part  of  Mark  Tapley,  with  which,  in  their  gratitude  for  his 
kind  offices  on  board  the  ship,  they  would  nol  have  complied 
instantly.  The  man  rose  to  accompany  him  without  a 
moment's  delay.  Before  they  went,  Mark  took  the  sick 
child  in  his  arms,  and  tried  to  comfort  the  mother;  but  the 
hand  of  death  was  on  it  then,  he  saw. 

They  found  Martin  in  the  house,  lying  wrapped  up  in  his 
blanket  on  the  ground.  He  was,  to  all  appearance,  very  ill 
indeed,  and  shook  and  shivered  horribly:  not  as  people  do 
from  cold,  but  in  a  frightful  kind  of  spasm  or  convulsion, 
that  racked  his  whole  body.  Mark's  friend  pronounced  his 
disease  an  aggravated  kind  of  fever,  accompanied  with  ague; 
which  was  very  common  in  those  parts,  and  which  he  pre- 
dicted would  be  worse  to-morrow,  and  for  many  more 
to-morrows.  He  had  had  it  himself  off  and  on,  he  said,  for 
a  couple  of  years  or  so;  but  he  was  thankful  that,  while  so 
many  he  had  known  had  died  about  him,  he  had  escaped 
with  life. 

^*  And  with  not  too  much  of  that,"  thought  Mark,  sur- 
veying his  emaciated  form.     "  Eden  forever  !  " 

They  had  some  medicine  in  their  chest;  and  this  man  of 
sad  experience  showed  Mark  how  and  when  to  administer  it, 
and  how  he  could  best  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  Martin. 
His  attentions  did  not  stop  there;  for  he  was  backward  and 
forward  constantly,  and  rendered  Mark  good  service  in  all 
his  brisk  attempts  to  make  their  situation  more  endurable. 
Hope  or  comfort  for  the  future  he  could  not  bestow.  The 
season  was  a  sickly  one;  the  settlement  a  grave.  His  child 
died  that  night;  and  Mark,  keeping  the  secret  from  Martin, 
helped  to  bury  it,  beneath  a  tree,  next  day. 

With  all  his  various  duties  of  attendance  upon  Martin 
(who  became  the  more  exacting  in  his  claims,  the  worse  he 
grew),  Mark  worked  out  of  doors,  early  and  late;  and  with 
the  assistance  of  his  friend  and  others,  labored  to  do  some- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  517 

thing  with  their  land.  Not  that  he  had  the  least  strength  of 
heart  or  hope,  or  steady  purpose  in  so  doing,  beyond  the 
habitual  cheerfulness  of  his  disposition,  and  his  amazing 
power  of  self-sustainment;  for  within  himself,  he  looked  on 
their  condition  as  beyond  all  hope,  and  in  his  own  words, 
"  came  out  strong  "  in  consequence. 

"  As  to  coming  out  as  strong  as  I  could  wish,  sir,"  he  con- 
fided to  Martin  in  a  leisure  moment;  that  is  to  say,  one 
evening,  while  he  was  washing  the  linen  of  the  establish- 
ment, after  a  hard  day's  work,  "  that  I  give  up.  It's  a  piece 
of  good  fortune  as  never  is  to  happen  to  me,  I  see  !  " 

"  Would  you  wish  for  circumstances  stronger  than  these  ?  " 
Martin  retorted  with  a  groan,  from  under  his  blanket. 

"  Why,  only  see  how  easy  they  might  have  been  stronger, 
sir,"  said  Mark,  "  if  it  wasn't  for  the  envy  of  that  uncommon 
fortune  of  mine,  which  is  always  after  me,  and  tripping  me 
up.  The  night  we  landed  here,  I  thought  things  did  look 
pretty  jolly.  I  won't  deny  it.  I  thought  they  did  look 
pretty  jolly." 

"  How  do  they  look  now  ? "  groaned  Martin. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mark.  "  Ah,  to  be  sure.  That's  the  ques- 
tion. How  do  they  look  now  !  On  the  very  first  morning 
of  my  going  out,  what  do  I  do  ?  Stumble  on  a  family  I 
know,  who  are  constantly  assisting  of  us  in  all  sorts  of  ways, 
from  that  time  to  this!  That  won't  do,  you  know:  that 
ain't  what  I'd  a  right  to  expect.  If  I  had  stumbled  on  a 
serpent,  and  got  bit;  or  stumbled  on  a  first-rate  patriot,  and 
got  bowie-knifed;  or  stumbled  on  a  lot  of  Sympathizers  with 
inverted  shirt-collars,  and  got  made  a  lion  of;  I  might  have 
distinguished  myself,  and  earned  some  credit.  As  it  is,  the 
great  object  of  my  voyage  is  knocked  on  the  head.  So  it 
would  be,  wherever  I  went.  How  do  you  feel  to-night, 
sir?" 

"  Worse  than  ever,"  said  poor  Martin. 

"  That's  something,"  returned  Mark,  "  but  not  enough. 
Nothing  but  being  very  bad  myself,  and  jolly  to  the  last,  will 
ever  do  me  justice." 

"In  Heaven's  name,  don't  talk  of  that,"  said  Martin,  with 
a  thrill  of  terror.  *'  What  should  I  do,  Mark,  if  you  were 
taken  ill  !  " 

Mr.  Tapley's  spirits  appeared  to  be  stimulated  by  this 
remark,  although  it  was  not  a  very  flattering  one.  He  pro- 
ceeded with  his  washing  in  a  brighter  mood  ;  and  observed 
"  that  his  glass  was  a-rising." 


5i8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  There's  one  good  thing  in  this  place,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  scrubbing  away  at  the  linen,  ''  as  disposes  me  to  be 
jolly  ;  and  that  is,  that  it's  a  reg'lar  little  United  States  in 
itself.  I'here's  two  or  three  American  settlers  left  ;  and  they 
coolly  comes  over  one,  even  here,  sir,  as  if  it  was  the  whole- 
somest  and  loveliest  spot  in  the  world.  But  they're  like  the 
cock  that  went  and  hid  himself  to  save  his  life,  and  was 
found  out  by  the  noise  he  made.  They  can't  help  crowing. 
They  was  born  to  do  it,  and  do  it  they  must,  whatever  comes 
of  it." 

Glancing  from  his  work,  out  at  the  door,  as  he  said  these 
words  Mark's  eyes  encountered  a  lean  person  in  a  blue  frock 
and  straw  hat,  with  a  short  black  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a 
great  hickory  stick,  studded  all  over  with  knots,  in  his  hand  ; 
who  smoking  and  chewing  as  he  came  along,  and  spitting 
frequently,  recorded  his  progress  by  a  train  of  decomposed 
tobacco  on  the  ground. 

"  Here's  one  of  'em,"  cried  Mark,  "  Hannibal  Chollop." 

"  Don't  let  him  in,"  said  Martin,  feebly. 

*'  He  won't  want  any  letting  in,"  replied  Mark.  *'  He'll 
come  in,  sir."  Which  turned  out  to  be  quite  true,  for  he  did. 
His  face  was  almost  as  hard  and  knobby  as  his  stick  ;  and  so 
were  his  hands.  His  head  was  like  an  old  black  hearth- 
broom.  He  sat  down  on  the  chest  with  his  hat  on  ;  and 
crossing  his  legs  and  looking  up  at  Mark,  said,  without  re- 
moving his  pipe  : 

"  Well,  Mr.  Co  !  and  how  do  you  git  along,  sir  ?  " 

It  may  be  necessary  to  observe  that  Mr.  Tapley  had 
gravely  introduced  himself  to  all  strangers  by  that  name. 

"  Pretty  well,  sir  ;  pretty  well  ;  "  said  Mark. 

**  If  this  ain't  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  ain't  it  !  "  exclaimed  the 
visitor.     *'  How  do  you  git  along,  sir  ?  " 

Martin  shook  his  head,  and  drew  the  blanket  over  it  in- 
voluntarily ;  for  he  felt  that  Hannibal  was  going  to  spit  ; 
and  his  eye,  as  the  song  says,  was  upon  him. 

''You  need  not  regard  me,  sir,"  observed  Mr.  Chollop, 
complacently.     "  I  am  fever-proof,  and  likewise  agur." 

"  Mine  was  a  more  selfish  motive,"  said  Martin,  looking 
out  again.     ''  I  was  afraid  you  were  going  to — " 

''I  can  calc'late  my  distance,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Chollop, 
"  to  an  inch." 

With  a  proof  of  which  happy  faculty  he  immediately  fa- 
vored him. 

"  I  re-quire,  sir,"  said  Hannibal,  "  two  foot  clear  in  a  cir- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  519 

c'lar  di-rection,  and  can  engage  myself  to  keep  within  it.  I 
have  gone  ten  foot,  in  a  circ'lar  direction,  but  that  was  for  a 
wager." 

"  I  hope  you  won  it,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

**  Well,  sir,  I  realized  the  stakes,"  said  Chollop.  "  Yes,  sir," 

He  was  silent  for  a  time,  during  which  he  was  actively 
engaged  in  the  formation  of  a  magic  circle  round  the  chest 
on  which  he  sat.  When  it  was  completed,  he  began  to  talk 
again. 

"  How  do  you  like  our  country,  sir  ?  "  he  inquired,  look- 
ing at  Martin. 

"  Not  at  all,"  was  the  invalid's  reply. 

Chollop  continued  to  smoke  without  the  least  appearance 
of  emotion,  until  he  felt  disposed  to  speak  again.  That  time 
at  length  arriving,  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and 
said  : 

"  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  you  say  so.  It  fe-qulres  An 
elevation,  and  A  preparation  of  the  intellect.  The  mind 
of  man  must  be  prepared  for  freedom,  Mr.  Co." 

He  addressed  himself  to  Mark  :  because  he  saw  that 
Martin,  who  wished  him  to  go,  being  already  half-mad  with 
feverish  irritation,  which  the  droning  voice  of  this  new  horror 
rendered  almost  insupportable,  had  closed  his  eyes  and 
turned  on  his  uneasy  bed. 

"  A  little  bodily  preparation  wouldn't  be  amiss,  either, 
would  it,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "in  the  case  of  a  blessed  old 
swamp  like  this  ?  " 

"  Do  you  con-sider  this  a  swamp,  sir  ? "  inquired  Chollop 
gravely. 

"  Why  yes,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I  haven't  a  doubt  about 
it,  myself." 

"The  sentiment  is  quite  Europian,"  said  the  major,  "and 
does  not  surprise  me  :  what  would  your  English  millions 
say  to  such  a  swamp  in  England,  sir  ?  " 

"  They'd  say  it  was  an  uncommon  nasty  one,  I  should 
think,"  said  Mark  ;  "  and  that  they  would  rather  be  inocu- 
lated for  fever  in  some  other  way." 

"  Europian  ! "  remarked  Chollop,  with  sardonic  piety. 
"  Quite  Europian  !  " 

And  there  he  sat.  Silent  and  cool,  as  if  the  house  were 
his  ;  smoking  away  like  a  factory  chimney. 

Mr.  Chollop  was,  of  course,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  in  the  country;  but  he  really  was  a  notorious  person 
besides.     He  was  usually  described  by  his  friends,  in  the 


520  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

South  and  West,  as  "  a  splendid  sample  of  our  native  raw 
material,  sir,"  and  was  much  esteemed  for  his  devotion  to 
rational  liberty;  for  the  better  propagation  whereof  he  usually 
carried  a  brace  of  revolving  pistols  in  his  coat  pocket,  with 
seven  barrels  apiece.  He  also  carried,  amongst  other 
trinkets,  a  sword-stick,  which  he  called  his  "  tickler;"  and  a 
great  knife,  which  (for  he  was  a  man  of  a  pleasant  turn 
of  humor)  he  called  "  ripper,"  in  allusion  to  its  usefulness 
as  a  means  of  ventilating  the  stomach  of  any  adversary  in  a 
close  contest  He  had  used  these  weapons  with  distin- 
guished effect  in  several  instances,  all  duly  chronicled  in 
the  nev/spapers  ;  and  was  greatly  beloved  for  the  gallant 
manner  in  which  he  had  "  jobbed  out "  the  eye  of  one 
gentleman,  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  knocking  at  his  own 
street-door. 

Mr.  Chollop  was  a  man  of  a  roving  disposition  ;  and  in 
any  less  advanced  community,  might  have  been  mistaken  for 
a  violent  vagabond.  But  his  fine  qualities  being  perfectly 
understood  and  appreciated  in  those  regions  where  his  lot 
was  cast,  and  where  he  had  many  kindred  spirits  to  consort 
with,  he  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  born  under  a  for- 
tunate star,  which  is  not  always  the  case  with  a  man  so  much 
before  the  age  in  which  he  lives.  Preferring,  with  a  view  to 
the  gratification  of  his  tickling  and  ripping  fancies,  to  dwell 
upon  the  outskirts  of  society,  and  in  the  more  remote  towns 
and  cities,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  emigrating  from  place  to 
place,  and  establishing  in  each  some  business — usually  a 
newspaper — which  he  presently  sold;  for  the  most  part 
closing  the  bargain  by  challenging,  stabbing,  pistoling,  or 
gouging,  the  new  editor  before  he  had  quite  taken  possession 
of  the  property. 

He  had  come  to  Eden  on  a  speculation  of  this  kind,  but 
had  abandoned  it,  and  was  about  to  leave.  He  always  intro- 
duced himself  to  strangers  as  a  worshiper  of  freedom  ;  was 
the  consistent  advocate  of  lynch  law,  and  slavery;  and  invari- 
ably recommended,  both  in  print  and  speech,  the  *'  tarring 
and  feathering"  of  any  unpopular  person  who  differed  from 
himself.  He  called  this  "planting  the  standard  of  civiliza- 
tion in  the  wilder  gardens  of  my  country." 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Chollop  would  have  planted  this 
standard  in  Eden  at  Mark's  expense,  in  return  for  his  plain- 
ness of  speech  (for  the  genuine  freedom  is  dumb,  save  when 
she  vaunts  herself),  but  for  the  utter  desolation  and  deca> 
prevailing  in  the  settlement,  and  his  own  approaching  depar- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  521 

tuie  from  it.  As  it  was,  he  contented  himself  with  showing 
Mark  one  of  the  revolving  pistols,  and  asking  him  what  he 
thouglit  of  that  weapon. 

"  It  ain't  long  since  I  shot  a  man  down  with  that,  sir,  in 
the  state  of  Illin^j',"  observed  ChoUop. 

"  Did  you,  indeed  !  "  said  Mark,  without  the  smallest 
agitation.     "  Very  free  of  you.     And  very  independent." 

"  I  shot  him  down,  sir,"  pursued  ChoUop,  **  for 
asserting  in  the  Spartan  Portico,  a  tri-weekly  journal,  that 
the  ancient  Athenians  went  ahead  of  the  present  Locofoco 
Ticket." 

*'  And  what's  that  !  "  asked  Mark. 

"  Europian  not  to  know,"  said  Chollop,  smoking  placidly. 
"  Europian  quite." 

After  a  short  devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  magic  circle, 
he  resumed  the  conversation  by  observing: 

"  You  won't  half  feel  yourself  at  home  in  Eden,  now  ?'* 

"No,"  said  Mark,  "I  don't." 

"  You  miss  the  imposts  of  your  country.  You  miss  the 
house  dues  ?"  observed  Chollop. 

"  And  the  houses — rather,"  said  Mark. 

"  And  no  window  dues  here,  sir,"  observed  Chollop. 

"  And  no  windows  to  put  'em  on,"  said  Mark. 

"  No  stakes,  no  dungeons,  no  blocks,  no  racks,  no  scaf- 
folds, no  thumb-screws,  no  pikes,  no  pillories,"  said  Chollop. 

"Nothing  but  rewolwers  and  bowie-knives,"  returned  Mark. 
"  And  what  are  they  ?     Not  worth  mentioning  !  " 

The  man  who  had  met  them  on  the  night  of  their  arrival 
came  crawling  up  at  this  juncture,  and  looked  in  at  the 
door. 

*'  Well,  sir,"  said  Chollop.     "  How  do  you  git  along?  " 

He  had  considerable  difficulty  in  getting  along  at  all,  and 
he  said  as  much  in  reply. 

"  Mr.  Co.  and  me,  sir,"  observed  Chollop,  "  are  disputa- 
ting  a  piece.  He  ought  to  be  slicked  up  pretty  smart,  to 
disputate  between  the  Old  World  and  the  New,  I  do 
expect  ?  " 

''  Well  !  "  returned  the  miserable  shadow.     "  So  he  had." 

"I  v/as  merely  observing,  sir,"  said  Mark,  addressing  this 
new  visitor,  "  that  I  looked  upon  the  city  in  which  we  have 
the  honor  to  live,  as  being  swampy.  What's  your  senti- 
ments? " 

*'  I  opinionate  it's  moist  perhaps,  at  certain  times," 
r'^turned  tb^  n^^n. 


522  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"But  not  as  moist  as  England,  sir?  "  cried  Chollop,  with 
a  fierce  expression  in  his  face. 

"  Oh  !  Not  as  moist  as  England  ;  let  alone  its  institutions," 
said  the  man. 

"  I  should  hope  there  ain't  a  swamp  in  all  Americay,  as 
don't  whip  that  small  island  into  mush  and  molasses," 
observed  Chollop,  decisively.  "  You  bought  slick,  straight, 
and  right  away,  of  Scadder,  sir  ?  "  to  Mark. 

He  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Mr.  Chollop  winked  at 
the  other  citizen. 

*'  Scadder  is  a  smart  man,  sir  ?  He  is  a  rising  man  ?  He 
is  a  man  as  will  come  up'ard,  right  side  up,  sir?"  Mr. 
Chollop  winked  again  at  the  other  citizen. 

"  He  should  have  his  right  side  very  high  up,  if  I  had  my 
way,"  said  Mark.  "  As  high  up  as  the  top  of  a  good  tall 
gallows,  perhaps." 

Mr.  Chollop  was  so  delighted  at  the  smartness  of  his 
excellent  countryman  having  been  too  much  for  the  Brit- 
isher, and  at  the  Britisher's  resenting  it,  that  he  could  con- 
tain himself  no  longer,  and  broke  forth  in  a  shout  of  delight. 
But  the  strangest  exposition  of  this  ruling  passion  was  in  the 
other  :  the  pestilence-stricken,  broken,  miserable  shadow  of 
a  man  :  who  derived  so  much  entertainment  from  the  cir- 
cumstance, that  he  seemed  to  forget  his  own  ruin  in  thinking 
of  it,  and  laughed  outright  when  he  said  "  that  Scadder  was 
a  smart  man,  and  had  draw'd  a  lot  of  British  capital  that 
way,  as  sure  as  sun-up." 

After  a  full  enjoyment  of  this  joke,  Mr.  Hannibal  Chollop 
sat  smoking  and  improving  the  circle,  without  making  any 
attempts  either  to  converse,  or  to  take  leave  ;  apparently 
laboring  under  the  not  uncommon  delusion,  that  for  a  free 
and  enlightened  citizen  of  the  United  States  to  convert 
another  man's  house  into  a  spittoon  for  two  or  three  hours 
together,  was  a  delicate  attention,  full  of  interest  and  polite- 
ness, of  which  nobody  could  ever  tire.     At  last  he  rose. 

"  I  am  a  going  easy,"  he  observed. 

Mark  entreated  him  to  take  particular  care  of  himself. 

"  Afore  I  go,"  he  said  sternly,  "  I  have  got  a  leetle  word 
to  say  to  you.     You  are  darnation  'cute  you  are." 

Mark  thanked  him  for  the  compliment. 

"  But  you  are  much  too  'cute  to  last.  I  can't  conceive  of 
any  spotted  painter  in  the  bush,  as  ever  was  so  riddled 
through  and  through  as  you  will  be,  1  bet." 

"  What  for  ?  "    asked  Mark. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  523 

"  We  must  be  cracked-up,  sir,"  retorted  Chollop,  in  a  tone 
of  menace.  '*  You  are  not  now  in  A  despotic  land.  We  are 
a  model  to  the  airth,  and  must  be  jist  cracked-up,  I  tell 
you." 

*'  What,  I  speak  too  free,  do  I  ?  "    cried  Mark. 

"  I  have  draw'd  upon  A  man,  and  fired  upon  A  man  for 
less,"  said  Chollop,  frowning.  "  I  have  know'd  strong  men 
obleeged  to  make  themselves  uncommon  skase  for  less.  I 
have  know'd  men  lynched  for  less,  and  beaten  into  punkin'- 
sarse  for  less,  by  an  enlightened  people.  We  are  the  intellect 
and  virtue  of  the  airth,  the  cream  of  human  natur',  and  the 
flower  of  moral  force.  Our  backs  is  easy  ris.  We  must  be 
cracked-up,  or  they  rises,  and  we  snarls.  We  shows  our 
teeth,  I  tell  you,  fierce.  You'd  better  crack  us  up,  you 
had  !  " 

After  the  delivery  of  this  caution,  Mr.  Chollop  departed  ; 
with  ripper,  tickler,  and  the  revolvers,  all  ready  for  action 
on  the  shortest  notice. 

"  Come  out  from  under  the  blanket,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "he's 
gone.  What's  this  !  "  he  added  softly  :  kneeling  down  to 
look  into  his  partner's  face,  and  taking  his  hot  hand.  "  What's 
come  of  all  that  chattering  and  swaggering  ?  He's  wander- 
ing in  his  mind  to-night,  and  don't  know  me  !  " 

Martin  indeed  was  dangerously  ill  ;  very  near  his  death. 
He  lay  in  that  state  many  days,  during  which  time  Mark's 
poor  friends,  regardless  of  themselves,  attended  him.  Mark, 
fatigued  in  mind  and  body  ;  working  all  the  day  and  sitting 
up  at  night  ;  worn  with  hard  living  and  the  unaccustomed 
toil  of  his  new  life  ;  surrounded  by  dismal  and  discouraging 
circumstances  of  every  kind  ;  never  complained  or  yielded 
in  the  least  degree.  If  ever  he  had  thought  Martin  selfish 
or  inconsiderate,  or  had  deemed  him  energetic  only  by  fits 
and  starts,  and  then  too  passive  for  their  desperate  fortunes, 
he  now  forgot  it  all.  He  remembered  nothing  but  the  better 
qualities  of  his  fellow-wanderer,  and  was  devoted  to  him, 
heart  and  hand. 

Many  weeks  elapsed  before  Martin  was  strong  enough  to 
move  about  with  the  help  of  a  stick  and  Mark's  arm  ;  and 
even  then  his  recovery,  for  want  of  wholesome  air  and 
proper  nourishment,  was  very  slow.  He  was  yet  in  a  feeble 
and  weak  condition,  when  the  misfortune  he  had  so  much 
dreaded  fell  upon  them.     Mark  was  taken  ill. 

Mark  fought  against  it ;  but  the  malady  fought  harder, 
and  his  efforts  were  in  vain. 


524  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Floored  ior  the  present,  sir,"  he  said  one  morning,  sink- 
ing back  upon  his  bed  ;  *'  but  jolly  !  " 

Floored  indeed,  and  by  a  heavy  blow  !  As  any  one  but 
Martin  might  have  known  beforehand. 

If  Mark's  friends  had  been  kind  to  Martin  (and  they  had 
been  very),  they  were  twenty  times  kinder  to  Mark.  And 
now  it  was  Martin's  turn  to  work,  and  sit  beside  the  bed  and 
watch,  and  listen  through  the  long,  long  nights,  to  every 
sound  in  the  gloomy  wilderness;  and  hear  poor  Mr.  Tapley,  in 
his  wandering  fancy,  playing  at  skittles  in  the  Dragon, 
making  love-remonstrances  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  getting  his  sea- 
legs  on  board  the  Screw,  traveling  with  old  Tom  Pinch  on 
English  roads,  and  burning  stumps  of  trees  in  Eden,  all 
at  once. 

But  whenever  Martin  gave  him  drink  or  medicine,  or 
tended  him  in  any  way,  or  came  into  the  house  returning 
from  some  drudgery  without,  the  patient  Mr.  Tapley  bright- 
ened up,  and  cried:  "  I'm  jolly,  sir;  I'm  jolly  !  " 

Now,  when  Martin  began  to  think  of  this,  and  to  look  at 
Mark  as  he  lay  there;  never  reproaching  him  by  so  much  as 
an  expression  of  regret;  never  murmuring;  always  striving 
to  be  manful  and  staunch;  he  began  to  think,  how  was  it 
that  this  man  who  had  had  so  few  advantages,  was  so  much 
better  than  he  who  had  had  so  many  ?  And  attendance 
upon  a  sick  bed,  but  especially  the  sick  bed  of  one  whom 
we  have  been  accustomed  to  see  in  full  activity  and  vigor, 
being  a  great  breeder  of  reflection,  he  began  to  ask  himself 
in  what  way  they  differed. 

He  was  assisted  in  coming  to  a  conclusion  on  this  head 
by  the  frequent  presence  of  Mark's  friend,  their  fellow-pas- 
senger across  the  ocean;  which  suggested  to  him  that  in 
regard  to  having  aided  her,  for  example,  they  had  differed 
very  much.  Somehow  he  coupled  Tom  Pinch  with  this 
train  of  reflection;  and  thinking  that  Tom  would  be  very 
likely  to  have  struck  up  the  same  sort  of  acquaintance  under 
similar  circumstances,  began  to  think  in  what  respect  two 
people  so  extremely  different  were  like  each  other,  and  were 
unlike  him.  At  first  sight  there  was  nothing  very  distressing 
in  these  meditations,  but  they  did  undoubtedly  distress  him 
for  all  that. 

Martin's  nature  was  a  frank  and  generous  one;  but  he 
had  been  bred  up  in  his  grandfather's  house;  and  it  will 
usually  be  found  that  the  meaner  domestic  vices  propagate 
themselves  to  be  their  owii   antagonists.     Selfishness  does 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  525 

this  especially;  so  do  suspicion,  cunning,  stealth,  and  cov- 
etous propensities.  Martin  had  unconsciously  reasoned  as 
a  child,  "  My  guardian  takes  so  much  thought  to  himself, 
that  unless  I  do  the  like  by  myself ^  I  shall  be  forgotten."  So 
he  had  grown  selfish. 

But  he  had  never  known  it.  If  any  one  had  taxed  him 
with  the  vice,  he  would  have  indignantly  repelled  the  accu- 
sation, and  conceived  himself  unworthily  aspersed.  He 
never  would  have  known  it,  but  that  being  newly  risen  from 
a  bed  of  dangerous  sickness,  to  watch  by  such  another  couch, 
he  felt  how  nearly  Self  had  dropped  into  the  grave,  and 
what  a  poor,  dependent,  miserable  thing  it  was. 

It  was  natural  for  him  to  reflect — he  had  months  to  do  it 
in — upon  his  own  escape,  and  Mark's  extremity.  This  led 
him  to  consider  which  of  them  could  be  the  better  spared, 
and  why  ?  Then  the  curtain  slowly  rose  a  very  little  way; 
and  Self,  Self,  Self,  was  shown  belov/. 

He  asked  himself,  besides,  when  dreading  Mark's  decease 
(as  all  men  do  and  must,  at  such  a  time),  whether  he  had 
done  his  duty  by  him,  and  had  deserved  and  made  a  good 
response  to  his  fidelity  and  zeal.  No.  Short  as  their 
companionship  had  been,  he  felt  in  many,  many  instances, 
that  there  was  blame  against  himself;  and  still  inquiring 
why,  the  curtain  slowly  rose  a  little  more,  and  Self,  Self,  Self, 
dilated  on  the  scene. 

It  was  long  before  he  fixed  the  knowledge  of  himself  so 
firmly  in  his  mind  that  he  could  thoroughly  discern  the 
truth;  but  in  the  hideous  solitude  of  that  most  hideous 
place,  with  Hope  so  far  removed,  Ambition  quenched,  and 
Death  beside  him  rattling  at  the  very  door,  reflection  came, 
as  in  a  plague-beleaguered  town;  and  so  he  felt  and  knev/ 
the  failing  of  his  life,  and  saw  distinctly  what  an  ugly  spot  it 
was. 

Eden  was  a  hard  school  to  learn  so  hard  a  lesson  in  ;  but 
there  were  teachers  in  the  swamp  and  thicket,  and  the  pesti- 
lential air,  who  had  a  searching  method  of  their  own. 

He  made  a  solemn  resolution  that  when  his  strength  re- 
turned he  would  not  dispute  the  point  or  resist  the  con- 
viction, but  would  look  upon  it  as  an  established  fact, 
that  selfishness  was  in  his  breast,  and  must  be  rooted  out. 
He  was  so  doubtful  (and  with  justice),  of  his  own  charac- 
ter, that  he  determined  not  to  say  one  word  of  vain  regret 
or  good  resolve  to  Mark,  but  steadily  to  keep  his  purpose 
before  his  own  eyes  solely;  and  there  v>-as  not  a  jot  of  pride 


526  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  this;  nothing  but  humility  and  steadfastness;  the  best 
armor  he  could  wear.  So  low  had  Eden  brought  him  down. 
So  high  had  Eden  raised  htm  up. 

After  a  long  and  lingering  illness  (in  certain  forlorn  stages 
of  which,  when  too  far  gone  to  speak,  he  had  feebly  written 
"jolly  !  "  on  a  slate),  Mark  showed  some  symptoms  of  re- 
turning health.  They  came  and  went,  and  flickered  for  a 
time  ;  but  he  began  to  mend  at  last  decidedly  ;  and  after 
that,  continued  to  improve  from  day  to  day. 

As  soon  as  he  w^as  well  enough  to  talk  without  fatigue, 
Martin  consulted  him  upon  a  project  he  had  in  his  mind, 
and  which  a  few  months  back  he  would  have  carried  into 
execution  without  troubling  any  body's  head  but  his 
own. 

''  Ours  is  a  desperate  case,"  said  Martin.  "  Plainly.  The 
place  is  deserted;  its  failure  must  have  become  known;  and 
selling  what  we  have  bought  to  any  one  for  any  thing  is  hope- 
less, even  if  it  were  honest.  We  left  home  on  a  mad  enter- 
prise, and  have  failed.  The  only  hope  left  us  ;  the  only  one 
end  for  which  we  have  now  to  try,  is  to  quit  this  settlement 
forever,  and  get  back  to  England.  Any  how  !  by  any 
means  !     Only  to  get  back  there,  Mark." 

"  That's  all,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  with  a  significant 
stress  upon  the  words  :  "  only  that  !  " 

"  Now,  upon  this  side  of  the  water,"  said  Martin,  "  we 
have  but  one  friend  who  can  help  us,  and  that  is  Mr.  Bevan." 

"  I  thought  of  him  when  you  was  ill,"  said  Mark, 

"  But  for  the  time  that  would  be  lost,  I  would  even  write 
to  my  grandfather,"  Martin  went  on  to  say,  "  and  implore 
him  for  money  to  free  us  from  this  trap  into  which  we  were 
so  cruelly  decoyed.     Shall  I  try  Mr.  Bevan  first  ?  " 

"  He's  a  very  pleasant  sort  of  a  gentleman,"  said  Mark.  "  I 
think  so." 

"  The  few  goods  we  brought  here,  and  in  which  we  spent 
our  money,  would  produce  something  if  sold,"  resumed  Mar- 
tin ;  "  and  whatever  they  realize  shall  be  paid  him  instantly. 
But  they  can't  be  sold  here." 

^'  There's  nobody  but  corpses  to  buy  'cm,"  said  Mr.  Tap- 
ley,  shaking  his  head  with  a  rueful  air,  "  and  pigs." 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  so,  and  only  ask  him  for  money  enough 
to  enable  us  by  the  cheapest  means  to  reach  New  York,  or 
any  port  from  which  we  may  hope  to  get  a  passage  home,  by 
serving  in  any  capacity  ?  Explaining  to  him  at  the  same 
fciifte  how  I  am  coaaeGted  and  that  J.  will  endeavor  to  repay 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  527 

nim,  even  through  my  grandfather,  immediately  on  our  arri- 
val in  England  ?  " 

''  Why  to  be  sure,"  said  Mark,  "  he  can  only  say  no,  and 
he  may  say  yes.     If  you  don't  mind  trying  him,  sir —  " 

"  Mind  !  "  exclaimed  Martin.  "  I  am  to  blame  for  coming 
here,  and  I  would  do  any  thing  to  get  away.  I  grieve  to 
think  of  the  past.  If  I  had  taken  your  opinion  sooner,  Mark, 
we  never  should  have  been  here,  1  am  certain." 

Mr.  Tapley  was  very  much  surprised  at  this  admission, 
but  protested,  with  great  vehemence,  that  they  would  have 
been  there  all  the  same  ;  and  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon 
coming  to  Eden,  from  the  first  word  he  had  ever  heard  of  it, 

Martin  then  read  him  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bevan,  which  he  had 
already  prepared.  It  was  frankly  and  ingenuously  written, 
and  described  their  situation  without  the  least  concealment; 
plainly  stated  the  miseries  they  had  undergone  ;  and  pre- 
ferred their  request  in  modest,  but  straightforward  terms. 
Mark  highly  commended  it  ;  and  they  determined  to  dis- 
patch it  by  the  next  steamboat  going  the  right  way,  that 
might  call  to  take  in  wood  at  Eden, — where  there  was  plenty 
of  wood  to  spare.  Not  knowing  how  to  address  Mr.  Bevan 
at  his  own  place  of  abode,  Martin  superscribed  it  to  the  care 
of  the  memorable  Mr.  Norris  of  New  York,  and  wrote  upon 
the  cover  an  entreaty  that  it  might  be  forwarded  without 
delay. 

More  than  a  week  elapsed  before  a  boat  appeared;  but  at 
length  they  were  awakened  very  early  one  morning  by  the 
high-pressure  snoring  of  the  £sau  Slodge  j  named  after 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  country,  who  had 
been  very  eminent  somewhere.  Hurrying  down  to  the  land- 
ing-place, they  got  it  safe  on  board;  and  waiting  anxiously 
to  see  the  boat  depart,  stopped  up  the  gangway;  an  instance 
of  neglect  which  caused  the  "  capting  "  of  the  Esau  Slodge 
to  "  wish  he  might  be  sifted  fine  as  flour,  and  whittled  small 
as  chips  ;  that  if  they  didn't  come  off  that  there  fixing  right 
smart  too,  he'd  spill  'em  in  the  drink  ;  "  whereby  the  capting 
phorically  said  he'd  throw  them  in  the  river. 

They  were  not  likely  to  receive  an  answer  for  eight  or  ten 
weeks  at  the  earliest.  In  the  meantime  they  devoted  such 
strength  as  they  had,  to  the  attempted  improvement  of  their 
land  ;  to  clearing  some  of  it,  and  preparing  it  for  useful  pur- 
poses. Monstrously  defective  as  their  farming  was,  still  it 
was  better  than  their  neighbors'  ;  for  Mark  had   some  prac- 

ti<^  knowledge  of  such  matters,  aad  Martia  learned  of  him  ; 


52S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

whereas  the  other  settlers  who  remained  upon  the  putrid  swamp 
(a  mere  handful,  and  those  withered  by  disease),  appeared  to 
have  wandered  there  with  the  idea  that  husbandry  was  the 
natural  gift  of  all  mankind.  They  helped  each  other  after 
their  own  manner  in  these  struggles,  and  in  all  others;  but 
they  worked  as  hopelessly  and  sadly  as  a  gang  of  convicts  in 
a  penal  settlement. 

Often  at  night  when  Mark  and  Martin  were  alone,  and 
lying  down  to  sleep,  they  spoke  of  home,  familiar  places, 
houses,  roads,  and  people  whom  they  knew;  sometimes  in 
the  lively  hope  of  seeing  them  again,  and  sometimes  with  a 
sorrowful  tranquillity,  as  if  that  hope  were  dead  It  was  a 
source  of  great  amazement  to  Mark  Tapley  to  find,  pervad- 
ing all  these  conversations,  a  singular  alteration  in  Martin. 

''  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  him,"  he  thought  one 
night,  "  he  ain't  what  I  supposed.  He  don't  think  of  him- 
self half  as  much.     I'll  try  him  again.     Asleep,  sir  .^  " 

"  No,  Mark." 

"  Thinking  of  home,  sir  ? " 

*'Yes,  Mark." 

"  So  was  I,  sir.  I  was  wondering  how  Mr.  Pinch  and  Mr. 
Pecksniff  gets  on  now." 

"  Poor  Tom  !  "  said  Martin,  thoughtfully. 

'*  Weak-minded  man,  sir,"  observed  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Plays 
the  organ  for  nothing,  sir.     Takes  no  care  of  himself." 

"  I  wish  he  took  a  little  more,  indeed,"  said  Martin. 
"  Though  I  don't  know  why  I  should.  We  shouldn't  like 
him  half  as  well,  perhaps." 

"  He  gets  put  upon,  sir,"  hinted  Mark. 

"Yes,"  said  Martin,  after  a  short  silence,  "/know  that, 
Mark." 

He  spoke  so  regretfully,  that  his  partner  abandoned  the 
theme,  and  was  silent  for  a  short  time,  until  he  had  thought 
of  another. 

"  Ah,  sir  !  "  said  Mark,  with  a  sigh.  "  Dear  me  !  You've 
ventured  a  good  deal  for  a  young  lady's  love  !  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what.  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Mark,"  was 
the  reply;  so  hastily  and  energetically  spoken,  that  Martin 
sat  up  in  his  bed  to  give  it.  "  I  begin  to  be  far  from  clear 
upon  it.  You  may  depend  upon  it,  she  is  very  unhappy. 
She  has  sacrificed  her  peace  of  mind;  she  has  endangered 
her  interests  very  much;  she  can't  run  away  from  those  who 
are  jealous  of  her,  and  opposed  to  her,  as  Ihave  done.  She 
has  to  endure,  Mark;  to   endure  without  the  possibility  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  529 

action,  poor  girl  !     I  begin  to  think  she  has  more  to  bear 
than  ever  I  have  had.     TJpon  my  soul  I  do  !  " 

Mr.  Tapley  opened  his  eyes  wide,  in  the  dark;  but  did 
not  interrupt. 

"And  I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "since we 
are  upon  this  subject.     That  ring — " 

"  Which  ring,  sir  !  "  Mark  inquired:  opening  his  eyes  still 
wider. 

"  That  ring  she  gave  me  when  we  parted,  Mark.  She 
bought  it;  bought  it;  knowing  I  was  poor  and  proud 
(Heaven  help  me  !  Proud  !)  and  wanted  money." 

"  Who  says  so,  sir  ? "  asked  Mark. 

"  I  say  so.  I  know  it.  I  thought  of  it,  my  good  fellow, 
hundreds  of  times,  while  you  were  lying  ill.  And  like  a 
beast,  I  took  it  from  her  hand,  and  wore  it  on  my  own,  and 
never  dreamed  of  this  even  at  the  moment  when  I  parted 
with  it,  when  some  faint  glimmering  of  the  truth  might 
surely  have  possessed  me  !  But  it's  late,"  said  Martin, 
checking  himself,  "  and  you  are  weak  and  tired,  I  know. 
You  only  talk  to  cheer  me  up.  Good-night  !  God  bless 
you,  Mark  !  " 

"  God  bless  you,  sir!  But  I'm  reg'larly  defrauded," 
thought  Mr.  Tapley,  turning  round,  with  a  happy  face. 
**  It  s  a  swindle.  I  never  entered  for  this  sort  of  service. 
There'll  be  no  credit  in  being  jolly  with  him  !  " 

The  time  wore  on,  and  other  steamboats  coming  from  the 
point  on  which  their  hopes  were  fixed,  arrived  to  take  in 
wood;  but  still  no  answer  to  the  letter.  Rain,  heat,  foul 
slime,  and  noxious  vapor,  with  all  the  ills  and  filthy  things 
they  bred,  prevailed.  The  earth,  the  air,  the  vegetation, 
and  the  water  that  they  drank,  all  teemed  with  deadly 
properties.  Their  fellow-passenger  had  lost  two  children 
long  betore;  and  buried  now  her  last.  Such  things  are 
much  too  common  to  be  widely  known  or  cared  for.  Smart 
citizens  grow  rich,  and  friendless  victims  smart  and  die,  and 
are  forgotten.     That  is  all. 

At  last,  a  boat  came  panting  up  the  ugly  river,  and  stopped 
at  Eden.  Mark  was  waiting  at  the  wood  hut,  when  it  came, 
and  had  a  letter  handed  to  him  from  on  board.  He  bore  it 
off  to  Martin.     They  looked  at  one  another  trembling. 

"  It  feels  heavy,"  faltered  Martin.  And  opening  it,  a  little 
roll  of  dollar-notes  fell  out  upon  the  ground. 

What  either  of  them  said,  or  did,  or  felt,  at  first,  neither 
of  them  knew.     All  Mark  could  ever  tell  was,  that  he  was 


530  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

at  the  river's  bank  again  out  of  breath,  before  the  boat  had 
gone,  inquiring  when  it  would  retrace  its  track  and  put  in 
there. 

The  answer  was,  in  ten  or  twelve  days:  notwithstanding 
which,  they  began  to  get  their  goods  together  and  to  tie  them 
up,  that  very  night.  When  this  stage  of  excitement  was  passed, 
each  of  them  believed  (they  found  this  out,  in  talking  of  it 
afterward),  that  he  would  surely  die  before  the  boat 
returned. 

They  lived,  however,  and  it  came,  after  the  lapse  of  three 
long  crawling  weeks.  At  sunrise,  on  an  autumn  day,  they 
stood  upon  her  deck. 

"  Courage  !  We  shall  meet  again  !  "  cried  Martin,  wav- 
ing his  hand  to  two  thin  figures  on  the  bank.  ''  In  the  Old 
World  !  " 

"  Or  in  the  next  one,"  added  Mark  below  his  breath. 
"  To  see  them  standing  side  by  side,  so  quiet,  is  a'most  the 
worst  of  all!" 

They  looked  at  one  another,  as  the  vessel  moved  away, 
and  then  looked  backward  at  the  spot  from  which  it  hurried 
fast.  The  log-house,  with  the  open  door,  and  drooping 
trees  about  it  ;  the  stagnant  morning  mist,  and  red  sun, 
dimly  seen  beyond  ;  the  vapor  rising  up  from  land  and 
river  ;  the  quick  stream  making  the  loathsome  banks  it 
washed,  more  flat  and  dull :  how  often  they  returned  in 
dreams  !  How  often  it  was  happiness  to  wake,  and  find 
them  shadows  that  had  vanished  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IN  WHICH  THE  TRAVELERS    MOVE    HOMEWARD,  AND    ENCOUN- 
TER SOME  DISTINGUISHED    CHARACTERS  UPON  THE  WAY.    - 

Among  the  passengers  on  board  the  steamboat,  there  was 
a  faint  gentleman  sitting  on  a  low  camp-stool,  with  his  legs 
on  a  high  barrel  of  flour,  as  if  he  were  looking  at  the  pros- 
pect with  his  ankles  ;  who  attracted  their  attention  speedily. 

He  had  straight  black  hair,  parted  up  in  the  middle  of 
his  head,  and  hanging  down  upon  his  coat  ;  a  little  fringe 
of  hair  upon  his  chin  ;  wore  no  neckcloth  ;  a  white  hat  ;  a 
suit  of  black,  long  in  the  sleeves,  and  short  in  the  legs  ; 
soiled  brown  stockmgs,  and  laced  shoes.  His  complexion, 
naturally  muddy,  was  rendered  muddier  by  too  strict  an 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  531 

economy  of  soap  and  water  ;  and  the  same  observation  will 
apply  to  the  washable  part  of  his  attire,  which  he  might  have 
changed  with  comfort  to  himself,  and  gratification  to  his/ 
friends.  He  was  about  five-and-thirty  ;  was  crushed  and 
jammed  up  in  a  heap,  under  the  shade  of  a  large  green  cotton 
umbrella  ;  and  ruminated   over  his  tobacco-plug  like  a  cow. 

He  was  not  singular,  to  be  sure,  in  these  respects  ;  for 
every  gentleman  on  board  appeared  to  have  had  a  difference 
with  his  laundress,  and  to  have  left  off  washing  himself  in 
early  youth.  Every  gentleman,  too,  was  perfectly  stopped 
up  with  tight  plugging,  and  was  dislocated  in  the  greater 
part  of  his  joints.  But  about  this  gentleman  there  was  a 
peculiar  air  of  sagacity  and  wisdom,  which  convinced  Martin 
that  he  was  no  common  character  ;  and  this  turned  out  to 
be  the  case. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  said  a  voice  in  Martin's  ear. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?"  said  Martin. 

It  was  a  tall  thin  gentleman  who  spoke  to  him,  with  a 
carpet-cap  on,  and  a  long  loose  coat  of  green  baize,  orna- 
mented about  the  pockets  with  black  velvet. 

*' You  air  from  Europe,  sir  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Martin. 

*' You  air  fortunate,  sir." 

Martin  thought  so  too  ;  but  he  soon  discovered  that  the 
gentleman  and  he  attached  different  meanings  to  this 
remark. 

"  You  air  fortunate,  sir,  in  having  an  opportunity  01 
beholding  our  Elijah  Pogram,  sir." 

"  Your  Elijahpogram  !  "  said  Martin,  thinking  it  was  all 
OMe  word,  and  a  building  of  some  sort. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Martin  tried  to  look  as  if  he  understood  him,  but  he 
couldn't  make  it  out. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  repeated  the  gentleman.  "  Our  Elijah  Pogram, 
sir,  is,  at  this  minute,  identically  settin'  by  the  en-gine 
biler." 

The  gentleman  under  the  umbrella  put  his  right  fore- 
finger to  his  eyebrow,  as  if  he  were  revolving  schemes  of 
state. 

"  That  is  Elijah  Pogram,  is  it  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the   other.     **  That  is  Elijah  Pogram." 

**  Dear  me  !  "  said  Martin.  ^'  I  am  astonished."  But  he 
had  not  the  least  idea  who  this  Elijah  Pogram  was  ;  having 
never  heard  the  name  in  all  his  life. 


532  MAPvTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  If  the  bller  of  this  vessel  was  Toe  bust,  sir,"  said  his 
new  acquaintance,  '*  and  Toe  bust  now,  this  would  be  a 
festival  day  in  the  calendar  of  despotism  ;  pretty  nigh 
equalin',  sir,  in  its  effects  upon  the  human  race,  our  Fourth 
of  glorious  July.  Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  Honorable  Elijah 
Pogram,  member  of  Congress  ;  one  of  the  master-minds  of 
our  country,  sir.     There  is  a  brow,  sir,  there  !  " 

"  Quite  remarkable,"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Our  own  immortal  Chiggle,  sir,  is  said  to  have 
observed,  when  he  made  the  celebrated  Pogram  statter  in 
marble,  which  rose  so  much  con-test  and  preju-dice  in 
Europe,  that  the  brow  was  more  than  mortal.  This  was 
before  the  Pogram  defiance,  and  was,  therefore,  a  pre-dic- 
tion,  cruel  smart." 

"  What  is  the  Pogram  defiance  ?  "  asked  Martin,  thinking, 
perhaps,  it  was  the  sign  of  a  public-house. 

"  An  o-ration,  sir,"  returned  his  friend. 

"Oh  !  to  be  sure,"  cried  Martin.  "What  am  I  thinking 
of !     It  defied—" 

"  It  defied  the  world,  sir,"  said  the  other,  gravely.  "  De- 
fied the  world  in  general  to  com-pete  with  our  country  upon 
any  hook  :  and  develop'd  our  internal  resources  for  making 
war  upon  the  universal  airth.  You  would  like  to  know 
Elijah  Pogram,  sir  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Martin. 

"  Mr.  Pogram,"  said  the  stranger — Mr.  Pogram  having 
cfverheard  every  word  of  the  dialogue — "  this  is  a  gentleman 
from  Europe,  sir:  from  England,  sir.  Butgen'rous  ene-mies 
may  meet  upon  the  neutral  sile  of  private  life,  I  think." 

The  languid  Mr.  Pogram  shook  hands  with  Martin,  like  a 
clock-work  figure  that  was  just  running  down.  But  he  made 
amends  by  chewing  like  one  that  was  just  wound  up. 

"  Mr.  Pogram,"  said  the  introducer,  "  is  a  public  servant, 
sir.  When  Congress  is  recessed,  he  makes  himself  acquainted 
with  those  free  United  States,  of  which  he  is  the  gifted  son." 

It  occurred  to  Martin,  that  if  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pog- 
ram had  staid  at  home,  and  sent  his  shoes  upon  a  tour,  they 
would  have  answered  the  same  purpose;  for  they  were  the 
only  part  of  him  in  a  situation  to  see  any  thing. 

In  course  of  time,  however,  Mr.  Pogram  rose;  and  having 
ejected  certain  plugging  consequences  whidi  would  have 
impeded  his  articulation,  took  up  a  position  where  there  was 
something  to  lean  against,  and  began  to  talk  to  Martin  : 
shading  himself  with  the  green  umbrella  all  the  time. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  '       533 

As  he  began  with  the  words,  "  How  do  you  like — ? " 
Martin  took  him  up  and  said: 

"  The  country,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  EHjah  Pogram.  A  knot  of  passengers 
gathered  round  to  hear  what  followed:  and  Martin  heard  his 
friend  say,  as  he  whispered  to  another  friend,  and  rubbed  his 
hands,  "  Pogram  will  smash  him  into  sky-blue  fits  I  know  !  " 

"Why,"  said  Martin,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  I  have 
learned  by  experience,  that  you  take  an  unfair  advantage  of 
a  stranger,  when  you  ask  that  question.  You  don't  mean  it 
to  be  answered,  except  in  one  way.  Now,  I  don't  choose 
to  answer  it  in  that  way,  for  I  can  not  honestly  answer  it  in 
that  way.  And  therefore,  1  would  rather  not  answer  it 
at  all." 

But  Mr.  Pogram  was  going  to  make  a  great  speech  in  the 
next  session  about  foreign  relations,  and  was  going  to  write 
strong  articles  on  the  subject;  and  as  he  greatly  favored  the 
free  and  independent  custom  (a  very  harmless  and  agreeable 
one)  of  procuring  information  of  any  sort  in  any  kind  of  con- 
fidence, and  afterward  perverting  it  publicly  in  any  man- 
ner that  happened  to  suit  him,  he  had  determined  to  get  at 
Martin's  opinions  somehow  or  other.  For,  if  he  could  have 
got  nothing  out  of  him,  he  would  have  had  to  invent  it  for 
him,  and  that  would  have  been  laborious.  He  made  a  mental 
note  of  his  answer,  and  went  in  again. 

'*  You  are  from  Eden,  sir  ?     How  did  you  like  Eden  ?  " 

Martin  said  what  he  thought  of  that  part  of  the  country, 
in  pretty  strong  terms. 

'*  It  is  strange,"  said  Pogram,  looking  round  upon  the 
group,  "  this  hatred  of  our  country,  and  her  institutions  ! 
This  national  antipathy  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  British 
mind  !  " 

"  Good  Heaven,  sir,"  cried  Martin.  *' Is  the  Eden  Land 
Corporation,  with  Mr.  Scadder  at  his  head,  and  all  the  misery 
it  has  worked,  at  its  door,  an  institution  of  America  ?  A 
part  of  any  form  of  government  that  ever  was  known  or 
heard  of  ? " 

"  I  con-sider  the  cause  of  this  to  be,"  said  Pogram,  looking 
round  again  and  taking  himself  up  where  Martin  had  inter- 
rupted him,  ''  partly  jealousy  and  prejudice,  and  partly  the 
nat'ral  unfitness  of  the  British  people  to  appreciate  the  ex- 
alted institutions  of  our  native  land.  I  expect,  sir,"  turning 
to  Martin  again,  "  that  a  gentleman  named  ChoUop  happened 
in  upon  you  during  your  lo-cation  in  the  town  of  Eden  ? " 


534       '  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Martin;  "  but  my  friend  can  answer 
this  better  than  I  can,  for  I  was  very  ill  at  the  time.  Mark! 
The  gentleman  is  speaking  of  Mr.  Chollop." 

"Oh.     Yes,  sir.     Yes.     /see  him,"  observed  Mark. 

"  A  splendid  example  of  our  na-tive  raw  material,  sir  ? " 
said  Pogram,  interrogatively. 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark. 

The  Honorable  Elijiah  Pogram  glanced  at  his  friends  as 
though  he  would  have  said,  **  Observe  this!  See  what  fol- 
lows !  "  and  they  rendered  tribute  to  the  Pogram  genius,  by 
a  gentle  murmur. 

*'  Our  fellow-countryman  is  a  model  of  a  man,  quite  fresh 
from  natur's  mould  !  "  said  Pogram  with  enthusiasm.  "  He 
is  a  true-born  child  of  this  free  hemisphere!  Verdant  as  the 
mountains  of  our  country  ;  bright  and  flowing  as  our  min- 
eral licks  ;  unspiled  by  withering  conventionalities  as  air 
our  broad  and  boundless  perearers  !  Rough  he  may  be.  So 
air  our  barrs.  Wild  he  may  be.  So  air  our  buffalers.  But 
he  is  a  child  of  natur',  and  a  child  of  freedom  ;  and  his 
boastful  answer  to  the  despot  and  the  tyrant  is,  that  his 
bright  home  is  in  the  settin'  sun." 

Part  of  this  referred  to  Chollop,  and  part  to  a  western 
postmaster,  who,  being  a  public  defaulter  not  very  long  before 
(a  character  not  at  all  uncommon  in  America),  had  been 
removed  from  office  ;  and  on  whose  behalf  Mr.  Pogram  (he 
voted  for  Pogram)  had  thundered  the  last  sentence  from  his 
seat  in  Congress,  at  the  head  of  an  unpopular  president.  It 
told  brilliantly  ;  for  the  bystanders  were  delighted,  and  one 
of  them  said  to  Martin,  "that  he  guessed  he  had  now  seen 
something  of  the  eloquential  aspect  of  our  country  and  was 
chawed  up  pritty  small." 

Mr.  Pogram  waited  until  his  hearers  were  calm  again, 
before  he  said  to  Mark  : 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  coincide,  sir  ?  " 

*'  Why,"  said  Mark,  "  I  didn't  like  him  much  ;  and  that's 
the  truth,  sir.  I  thought  he  was  a  bully  ;  and  I  didn't  admire 
his  carryin'  them  murderous  little  persuaders,  and  being  so 
ready  to  use  'em." 

"  It's  singler  !  "  said  Pogram,  lifting  his  umbrella  high 
enough  to  look  all  round  from  under  it.  "  It's  strange!  You 
observe  the  settled  opposition  to  our  institutions  which  per- 
vades the  British  mind  !  " 

"  What  an  extraordinary  people  you  are  !  "  cried  Martin. 
"  Are  Mr.  Chollop  and  the  class  he  represents,  an  institution 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  535 

here  ?  Are  pistols  with  revolving  barrels,  sword-sticks,  bowie- 
knives,  and  such  things,  institutions  on  which  you  pride  your- 
selves ?  Are  bloody  duels,  brutal  combats,  savage  assaults, 
shooting  down  and  stabbing  in  the  streets,  your  institutions  ? 
Why,  I  shall  hear  next,  that  dishonor  and  fraud  are  among 
the  institutions  of  the  great  republic  !  " 

The  moment  the  words  passed  his  lips  the  Honorable 
Elijah  Pogram  looked  round  again. 

"  This  morbid  hatred  of  our  institutions,"  he  observed, 
"is  quite  a  study  for  the  psychological  observer.  He's 
alludin'  to  repudiation  now  !  " 

"  Oh  !  You  may  make  any  thing  an  institution  if  you 
like,"  said  Martin,  laughing,  "  and  I  confess  you  had  me 
there,  for  you  certainly  have  made  that,  one.  But  the  greater 
part  of  these  things  are  one  institution  with  us,  and  we  call  it 
by  the  generic  name  of  Old  Bailey  !  " 

The  bell  being  rung  for  dinner  at  this  moment,  every  body 
ran  away  into  the  cabin,  whither  the  Honorable  Elijah 
Pogram  fled  with  such  precipitation  that  he  forgot  his 
umbrella  was  up,  and  fixed  it  so  tightly  in  the  cabin  door 
that  it  could  neither  be  let  down  nor  got  out.  For  a  minute 
or  so  this  accident  created  a  perfect  rebellion  among -the 
hungry  passengers,  behind,  who,  seeing  the  dishes,  and  hear- 
ing the  knives  and  forks  at  work,  well  knew  what  would  hap- 
pen unless  they  got  there  instantly,  and  were  nearly  mad  ; 
while  several  virtuous  citizens  at  the  table  were  in  deadly 
peril  of  choking  themselves  in  their  unnatural  efforts  to  get 
rid  of  all  the  meat  before  these  others  came. 

They  carried  the  umbrella  by  storm,  however,  and  rushed 
in  at  the  breach.  The  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  and  Mar- 
tin found  themselves,  after  a  severe  struggle,  side  by  side,  as 
they  might  have  come  together  in  the  pit  of  a  London 
theater  ;  and  for  four  whole  minutes  afterward,  Pogram  was 
snapping  up  great  blocks  of  every  thing  he  could  get  hold  of, 
like  a  raven.  When  he  had  taken  this  unusually  protracted 
dinner,  he  began  to  talk  to  Martin  ;  and  begged  him  not  to 
have  the  least  delicacy  in  speaking  with  perfect  freedom  to 
him,  for  he  was  a  calm  ^jhilosopher.  Which  Martin  was 
extremely  glad  to  hear  ;  for  he  had  begun  to  speculate  on 
Elijah  being  a  disciple  of  that  other  school  of  republican 
philosophy,  whose  noble  sentiments  are  carved  with  knives 
upon  a  pupil's  body,  and  written,  not  with  pen  and  ink,  but 
tar  and  feathers. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  countrymen  who  are  present, 
sir  ? "  inquired  Elijah  Pogram- 


536  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Oh  !  very  pleasant,"  said  Martin. 

They  were  a  very  pleasant  party.  No  man  had  spoken  a 
word  ;  every  one  had  been  intent,  as  usual,  on  his  own  pri- 
vate gorging  ;  and  the  greater  part  of  the  company  were 
decidedly  dirty  feeders. 

The  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  looked  at  Martin  as  if  he 
thought,  '^  You  don't  mean  that,  I  know  !  "  and  he  was  soon 
confirmed  in  his  opinion. 

Sitting  opposite  to  them  was  a  gentleman  in  a  high  state 
of  tobacco,  who  wore  quite  a  little  beard,  composed  of  the 
overflowings  of  that  weed,  as  they  had  dried  about  his  mouth 
and  chin  ;  so  common  an  ornament  that  it  would  scarcely 
have  attracted  Martin's  observation,  but  that  this  good  citi- 
zen, burning  to  assert  his  equality  against  all  comers,  sucked 
his  knife  for  some  moments,  and  made  a  cut  with  it  at  the 
butter,  just  as  Martin  v/as  in  the  act  of  taking  some.  There 
was  a  juiciness  about  the  deed  that  might  have  sickened  a 
scavenger. 

*'  When  Elijah  Pogram  (to  whom  this  was  an  every-day 
incident)  saw  that  Martin  put  the  plate  away,  and  took  no 
butter,  he  was  quite  delighted,  and  said, 

*^  Well !  The  morbid  hatred  of  you  British  to  the  institu- 
tions of  our  country  is  as-TONishing  !  " 

*'  Upon  my  life  !  "  cried  Martin,  in  his  turn.  *'  This  is  the 
most  wonderful  community  that  ever  existed.  A  man  delib- 
erately makes  a  hog  of  himself,  and  t/iaf's  an  institution  !  " 

''  We  have  no  time  to  ac-quire  forms,  sir,"  said  Elijah 
Pogram. 

'*  Acquire  !  "  cried  Martin.  *'  But  it's  not  a  question  of 
acquiring  any  thing.  It's  a  question  of  losing  the  natural 
politeness  of  a  savage,  and  that  instinctive  good-breeding 
which  admonishes  one  man  not  to  offend  and  disgust 
another.  Don't  you  think  that  man  over  the  way,  for 
instance,  naturally  knows  better,  but  considers  it  a  very  fine 
and  independent  thing  to  be  a  brute  in  small  matters  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  na-tive  of  our  country,  and  is  nat-rally  bright  and 
spry,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pogram. 

'*  Now,  observe  what  this  corned  to,  Mr,  Pogram,"  pursued 
Martin.  "  The  mass  of  your  countrymen  begin  by  stub- 
bornly neglecting  little  social  observances,  which  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  gentility,  custom,  usage,  government,  or  coun- 
try, but  are  acts  of  common,  decent,  natural,  human  polite- 
ness. You  abet  them  in  this,  by  resenting  all  attacks  upon 
their  social  offenses  as  if  they  were  a  beautiful  national  feat- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  537 

ure.  From  disregarding  small  obligations  they  come  in  reg- 
ular course  to  disregard  great  ones  ;  and  so  refuse  to  pay 
their  debts.  What  they  may  do,  or  what  they  may  refuse  to 
do  next,  I  don't  know  ;  but  any  man  may  see  if  he  will, 
that  it  will  be  something  following  in  natural  succession, 
and  a  part  of  one  great  growth,  which  is  rotten  at  the  root." 

The  mind  of  Mr.  Pogram  was  too  philosophical  to  see 
this  ;  so  they  went  on  deck  again,  where,  resuming  his  former 
post,  he  chewed  until  he  was  in  a  lethargic  state,  amounting 
to  insensibility. 

After  a  weary  voyage  of  several  days,  they  came  again  to 
that  same  wharf  where  Mark  had  been  so  nearly  left  behind, 
on  the  night  of  starting  for  Eden.  Captain  Kedgick,  the 
landlord,  was  standing  there,  and  was  greatly  surprised  to 
see  them  coming  from  the  boat. 

"  Why,  what  the  'tarnal  !  "  cried  the  captain.  "  Well !  I 
do  admire  at  this,  I  do  !  " 

"  We  can  stay  at  your  house  until  to-morrow,  captain,  I 
suppose  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  I  reckon  you  can  stay  there  for  a  twelvemonth  if  you 
like,"  retorted  Kedgick  coolly.  "  But  our  people  won't  best 
like  your  coming  back." 

"  Won't  like  it.  Captain  Kedgick  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  They  did  ex-pect  you  was  a-going  to  settle,"  Kedgick 
answered,  as  he  shook  his  head.  "  They've  been  took  .in^ 
you  can't  deny  !  " 

*'  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Martin. 

"  You  didn't  ought  to  have  received  'em,"  said  the  cap- 
tain.    "  No,  you  didn't  !  " 

"  My  good  friend,"  returned  Martin,  "  did  I  want  to 
receive  them  ?  Was  it  any  act  of  mine  ?  Didn't  you  tell  me 
they  would  rile  up,  and  that  I  should  be  flayed  like  a  wild- 
cat— and  threaten  all  kinds  of  vengeance,  if  I  didn't  receive 
them  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  returned  the  captain.  "  But 
when  our  people's  frills  is  out,  they're  starched  up  pretty 
stiff,  I  tell  you  !  " 

With  that  he  fell  into  the  rear  to  walk  with  Mark,  while 
Martin  and  Elijah  Pogram  went  on  to  the  National. 

''We've  come  back  alive,  you  see  !  "  said  Mark. 

"It  ain't  the  thing  I  did  expect,"  the  captain  grumbled. 
"  A  man  ain't  got  no  right  to  be  a  public  man,  unless  he 
meets  the  public  views.  Our  fashionable  people  wouldn't 
have  attended  his  le-vee,  if  they  had  know'd  it." 


538  "  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Nothing  mollified  the  captain,  who  persisted  in  taking  it 
very  ill  that  they  had  not  both  died  in  Eden.  The  boarders 
at  the  National  felt  strongly  on  the  subject  too  ;  but  it  hap- 
pened by  good  fortune  that  they  had  not  much  time  to 
think  about  this  grievance,  for  it  was  suddenly  determined 
to  pounce  upon  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram,  and  give 
him  a  le-vee  forthwith. 

As  the  general  evening  meal  of  the  house  was  over  before 
the  arrival  of  the  boat,  Martin,  Mark,  and  Pogram  were  tak- 
ing tea  and  fixings  at  the  public  table  by  themselves,  when 
the  deputation  entered  to  announce  this  honor:  consisting  of 
six  gentlemen  boarders,  and  a  very  shrill  boy. 

"  Sir  !  "  said  the  spokesman. 

"  Mr.  Pogram  !  "  cried  the  shrill  boy. 

The  spokesman  thus  reminded  of  the  shrill  boy's  presence, 
introduced  him.  "  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle,  sir.  A  gentle- 
man of  great  poetical  elements.  He  has  recently  jined  us 
here,  sir,  and  is  an  acquisition  to  us,  sir,  I  do  assure  you. 
Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Jodd,  sir.  Mr.  Izzard,  sir.  Mr.  Julius  Bib, 
sir." 

"  Julius  Washington  Merryweathcr  Bib,"  said  the  gentle- 
man himself  to  himself. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Excuse  me.  Mr.  Julius  Wash- 
ington Merryweathcr  Bib,  sir  ;  a  gentleman  in  the  lumber 
line,  sir,  and  much  esteemed.  Colonel  Groper,  sir.  Pro-fes- 
sor  Piper,  sir.     My  own  name,  sir,  is  Oscar  Buffum." 

Each  man  took  one  slide  forward  as  he  was  named  ;  but- 
ted at  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  with  his  head  ;  shook 
hands,  and  slid  back  again.  The  introduction  being  com- 
pleted, the  spokesman  resumed. 

''  Sir  !  " 

"  Mr.  Pogram  !  "  cried  the  shrill  boy. 

**  Perhaps,"  said  the  spokesman,  with  a  hopeless  look, 
'*  you  v/ill  be  so  good  Dr.  Ginery  Dunkle,  as  to  charge  your- 
self with  the  execution  of  our  little  office,  sir  ?  " 

As  there  was  nothing  the  shrill  boy  desired  more,  he  im- 
mediately stepped  forward. 

"'  Mr.  Pogram  !  Sir  !  A  handful  Of  your  fellow  citi- 
zens, sir,  hearing  Of  your  arrival  at  the  National  Hotel,  and 
feeling  the  patriotic  character  Of  your  public  services,  wish, 
sir,  to  have  the  gratification  Of  beholding  you,  and  mixing 
with  vou,  sir  ;  and  unbending  with  you,  sir,  in  those  moments 
which—" 

"  Air  !  "  suggested  Buffnm. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  539 

"Which  air  so  peculiarly  the  lot,  sir,  Of  our  gieat  and 
happy  country." 

"  Hear  !  "  cried  Colonel  Groper,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Good  ! 
Hear  him  !     Good  ! 

''  And  therefore,  sir,"  pursued  the  doctor,  "  they  request 
as  A  mark  of  their  respect,  the  honor  of  your  company  at 
a  little  le-Vee,  sir,  in  the  ladies'  ordinary,  at   eight  o'clock." 

Mr.  Pogram  bowed  and  said  : 

**  Fellow-countrymen  !  " 

"  Good  ! "  cried  the  colonel.     *'  Hear  him  !     Good  !  " 

Mr.  Pogram  bowed  to  the  colonel  individually,  and  then 
resumed  : 

"  Your  approbation  of  My  labors  in  the  common  cause 
goes  to  M  y  heart.  At  all  times,  and  in  all  places  ;  in  the 
ladies'  ordinary.  My  friends,  and  in  the  battle  field." 

"  Good  !  Very  good  !  Hear  him  !  Hear  him  !"  said 
the  colonel. 

*'The  name  Of  Pogram  will  be  proud  to  jine  you.  And 
may  it.  My  friends,  be  written  on  My  tomb,  *  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Con-gress  of  our  common  country,  and  was 
ac-Tive  in  his  trust.'  " 

"  The  com-mittee,  sir,"  said  the  shrill  boy,  "  will  wait 
upon  you  at  five  minutes  afore  eight.     I  take  My  leave,  sir  !  " 

Mr.  Pogram  shook  hands  with  him,  and  every  body  else, 
once  more  ;  and  when  they  came  back  again  at  five  min- 
utes before  eight,  they  said,  one  by  one,  in  a  melancholy 
voice,  "  How  do  you  do,  sir  ? "  and  shook  hands  with 
Mr.  Pogram  all  over  again,  as  if  he  had  been  abroad  for  a 
twelvemonth  in  the  meantime,  and  they  met,  now,  at  a 
funeral. 

But,  by  this  time  Mr.  Pogram  had  freshened  himself  up, 
and  had  composed  his  hair  and  features  after  the  Pogram 
statue,  so  that  any  one  with  half  an  eye  might  cry  out, 
"  There  he  is  !  as  he  delivered  the  defiance  ?  "  The  com- 
mittee were  embellished  also  ;  and  when  they  entered  the 
ladies'  ordinary  in  a  body,  there  was  much  clapping  of 
hands  from  ladies  and  gentlemen,  accompanied  by  cries  of 
"  Pogram  !  Pogram  !  "  and  some  standing  upon  chairs  to 
see  him. 

The  object  of  the  popular  caress  looked  round  the  room 
as  he  walked  up  it,  and  smiled  ;  at  the  same  time  observing 
to  the  shrill  boy,  that  he  knew  something  of  the  beauty  of 
the  daughters  of  their  common  country,  but  had  never  seen 
it  in  such  luster  and  perfection  as  at  that  moment.     Which 


540  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  shrill  boy  put  in  the  paper  next  day  ;  to  Elijah  Pogram's 
great  surprise. 

*'  We  will  re-quest  you,  sir,  if  you  please,"  said  Buffum, 
laying  hands  on  Mr.  Pogram  as  if  he  were  taking  his  meas- 
ure for  a  coat,  ^'  to  stand  up  with  your  back  agin  the  wall 
right  in  the  furthest  corner,  that  there  may  be  more  room  for 
our  fellow-cit-izens.  If  you  could  set  your  back  right  slap 
agin  that  curtain-peg,  sir,  keeping  your  left  leg  everlastingly 
behind  the  stove,  we  should  be  fixed  quite  slick." 

Mr.  Pogram  did  as  he  was  told,  and  wedged  himself  into 
such  a  little  corner,  that  the  Pogram  statue  wouldn't  have 
known  him. 

The  entertainments  of  the  evening  then  began.  Gentle- 
men brought  ladies  up,  and  brought  themselves  up,  and 
brought  each  other  up  ;  and  asked  Elijah  Pogram  what  he 
thought  of  this  political  question,  and  what  he  thought  of 
that  ;  and  looked  at  him,  and  looked  at  one  another,  and 
seemed  very  unhappy  indeed.  The  ladies  on  the  chairs 
looked  at  Elijah  Pogram  through  their  glasses,  and  said 
audibly,  *'  I  wish  he'd  speak.  Why  don't  he  speak.  Oh,  do 
ask  him  to  speak  !  "  And  Elijah  Pogram  looked  sometimes 
at  the  ladies  and  sometimes  elsewhere,  delivering  senatorial 
opinions,  as  he  was  asked  for  them.  But  the  great  end  and 
object  of  the  meeting  seemed  to  be,  not  to  let  Elijah  Pogram 
out  of  the  corner  on  any  account ;  so  there  they  kept  him, 
hard  and  fast. 

A  great  bustle  at  the  door,  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 
announced  the  arrival  of  some  remarkable  person  ;  and 
immediately  afterward  an  elderly  gentleman,  much  excited, 
was  seen  to  precipitate  himself  upon  the  crowd,  and  battle 
his  way  toward  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram.  Martin,  who 
had  found  a  snug  place  of  observation  in  a  distant  corner, 
where  he  stood  with  Mark  beside  him  (for  he  did  not  so 
often  forget  him  now  as  formerly,  though  he  still  did  some- 
times), thought  he  knew  this  gentleman,  but  had  no  doubt 
of  it,  when  he  cried  as  loud  as  he  could,  with  his  eyes  start- 
ing out  of  his  head  : 

"  Sir,  Mrs.  Hominy  !  " 

"  Lord  bless  that  woman,  Mark.  She  has  turned  up 
again  !  " 

"  Here  she  comes,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Tnpley,  *'  Pogram 
knows  her.  A  public  character  !  Always  got  her  eye  upon 
her  country,  sir  !  If  that  there  lady's  husband  is  of  my  opin- 
ion, what  a  jolly  old  gentleman  he  must  be  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  541 

A  lane  was  made,  and  Mrs.  Hominy,  with  the  aristocratic 
stock,  the  pocket  handkerchief,  the  clasped  hands  and  the 
classical  cap,  came  slowly  up  it,  in  a  procession  of  one.  Mr. 
Pogram  testified  emotions  of  delight  on  seeing  her,  and  a 
general  hush  prevailed.  For  it  was  known  that  when  a 
woman  like  Mrs.  Hominy  encountered  a  man  like  Pogram, 
something  interesting  must  be  said. 

Their  first  salutations  were  exchanged  in  a  voice  too  low 
to  reach  the  impatient  ears  of  the  throng  ;  but  they  soon 
became  audible,  for  Mrs  Hominy  felt  her  position,  and 
knew  what  was  expected  of  her. 

Mrs.  H.  was  hard  upon  him  at  first,  and  put  him  through 
a  rigid  catechism  in  reference  to  a  certain  vote  he  had  given, 
which  she  had  found  it  necessary,  as  the  mother  of  the  mod- 
ern Gracchi,  to  deprecate  in  a  line  by  itself,  set  up  expressly 
for  the  purpose  in  German  text.  But  Mr.  Pogram  evading 
it  by  a  well-timed  allusion  to  the  star-spangled  banner,  which, 
it  appeared,  had  the  remarkable  peculiarity  of  flouting  the 
breeze  whenever  it  was  hoisted  where  the  wind  blcM^,  she  for- 
gave him.  They  now  enlarged  on  certain  questions  of 
tariff,  commercial  treaty,  boundary,  importation  and  exporta- 
'tion,  with  great  effect.  And  Mrs.  Hominy  not  only  talked, 
as  the  saying  is,  like  a  book,  but  actually  did  talk  her  own 
books,  word  for  word. 

**  My  !  what  is  this  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Hominy,  opening  a  little 
note  which  was  handed  her  by  her  excited  gentleman-usher. 
"  Do  tell  !  oh,  well,  now  !  on'y  think  !  " 

And  then  she  read  aloud,  as  follows  : 

"  Two  literary  ladies  present  their  compliments  to  the 
mother  of  the  modern  Gracchi  and  claim  her  kind  introduc- 
tion, as  their  talented  countrywoman,  to  the  honorable  (and 
distinguished)  Elijah  Pogram,  whom  the  two  L.  L.'s  have 
often  contemplated  in  the  speaking  marble  of  the  soul-subdu- 
ing Chiggle.  On  a  verbal  intimation  from  the  mother  of  the 
M.  G.,  that  she  will  comply  with  the  request  of  the  two  L. 
L.'s,  they  will  have  the  immediate  pleasure  of  joining  the 
galaxy  assembled  to  do  honor  to  the  patriotic  conduct  of  a 
Pogram.  It  may  be  another  bond  of  union  between  the  two 
L.  L.'s  and  the  mother  of  the  M.  G.  to  observe,  that  the  two 
L.  L.'s  are  transcendental." 

Mrs.  Hominy  promptly  rose,  and  proceeded  to  the  door, 
whence  she  returned,  after  a  minute's  interval,  with  the  two  L. 
L;'s,  whom  she  led,  through  the  lane  in  the  crowd,  with  all 
that  stateliness  of  deportment  which  was  so  remarkably  her 


542  MARTIN  CHU2ZLEWIT. 

own,  up  to  the  great  Elijah  Pogram.  It  was  (as  the  shrill 
boy  cried  out  in  an  ecstasy)  quite  the  last  scene  from  Cori- 
olanus. 

One  of  the  L.  L.'s  wore  a  brown  wig  of  uncommon  size. 
Sticking  on  the  forehead  of  the  other,  by  invisible  means, 
was  a  massive  cameo,  in  size  and  shape  like  the  raspberry 
tart  which  is  ordinarily  sold  for  a  penny,  representing  on  its 
front  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 

*'  Miss  Toppit,  and   Miss  Codger  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hominy. 

"Codger's  the  lady  so  often  mentioned  in  the  English 
newspapers,  I  should  think,  sir,"  whispered  Mark.  "  The 
oldest  inhabitant  as  never  remembers  any  thing." 

"  To  be  presented  to  a  Pogram,"  said  Miss  Codger,  '*by  a 
Hominy,  indeed,  a  thrilling  moment  is  it  in  its  impressive- 
ness  on  what  w^e  call  our  feelings.  But  why  w^e  call  them  so, 
or  why  impressed  they  are,  or  if  impressed  they  are  at  all, 
or  if  at  all  we  are,  or  if  there  really  is,  oh  gasping  one  !  a 
Pogram  or  a  Hominy,  or  any  active  principle  to  which  we 
give  those  titles,  is  a  topic  spirit  searching,  light  abandoned, 
much  too  vast  to  enter  on,  at  this  unlooked-for  crisis." 

"  Mind  and  matter,"  said  the  lady  in  the  wig,  "  glide 
swift  into  the  vortex  of  immensity.  Howls  the  sublime,  and 
softly  sleeps  the  calm  ideal,  in  the  whispering  chambers  of 
imagination.  To  hear  it,  sweet  it  is.  But  then,  outlaughs 
the  stern  philosopher,  and  saith  to  the  grotesque,  '  What 
ho  !  arrest  for  me  that  agency.  Go,  bring  it  here  ! '  And 
so  the  vision  fadeth." 

After  this,  they  both  took  Mr.  Pogram  by  the  hand,  and 
pressed  it  to  their  lips,  as  a  patriotic  palm.  That  homage 
paid,  the  mother  of  the  modern  Gracchi  called  for  chairs, 
and  the  three  literary  ladies  went  to  work  in  earnest,  to  bring 
poor  Pogram  out,  and  make  him  show  himself  in  all  his 
brilliant  colors. 

How  Pogram  got  out  of  his  depth  instantly,  and  how  the 
three  L.  L's  were  never  in  theirs  is  a  piece  of  history  not  worth 
recording.  Suffice  it,  that  being  all  four  out  of  their  depths, 
and  all  unable  to  swim,  they  splashed  upwards  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  floundered  about  famously.  On  the  whole,  it  was 
considered  to  have  been  the  severest  mental  exercise  ever 
heard  in  the  National  Hotel.  Tears  stood  in  the  shrill  boy's 
eyes  several  times  ;  and  the  whole  company  observed  that 
their  heads  ached  with  the  effort — as  well  they  might. 

When  it  at  last  became  necessary  to  release  Elijah  Pogram 
from  the  corner,  and  the  committee  saw  him  safely  back 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVll'.  543 

agaiii  to  the  next  room,  they  were  fervent  in  their  admi- 
ration. 

**  Which,"  said  Mr.  Buff  imi,  "  must  have  vent,  or  it  will 
burst.  Toe  you,  Mr.  Pogram,  I  am  grateful.  Toe-wards 
you,  sir,  I  am  inspired  with  lofty  veneration,  and  with  deep 
e-mo-tion.  The  sentiment  Toe  which  I  would  propose  to 
give  ex-pression,  sir,  is  this  :  '  May  you  ever  be  as  firm,  sir, 
as  your  marble  statter  !  May  it  ever  be  as  great  a  terror 
Toe  its  ene-mies  as  you.'  " 

There  is  some  reason  to  suppose  that  it  was  rather  terrible 
to  its  friends  ;  being  a  statue  of  the  elevated  or  goblin 
school,  in  which  the  Honorable  Elijah  Pogram  was  repre- 
sented as  in  a  very  high  wind,  with  his  hair  all  standing  on 
end,  and  his  nostrils  blown  wide  open.  But  Mr.  Pogram 
thanked  his  friend  and  countryman  for  the  aspiration  to 
which  he  ha4  given  utterance,  and  the  committee,  after 
another  solemn  shaking  of  hands,  retired  to  bed,  except  the 
doctor,  who  immediately  repaired  to  the  newspaper-ofifice, 
and  there  wrote  a  short  poem  suggested  by  the  events  of  the 
evening,  beginning  with  fourteen  stars,  and  headed,  "  A 
Fragment.  Suggested  by  witnessing  the  Honorable  Elijah 
Pogram  engaged  in  a  philosophical  disputation  with  three  of 
Columbia's  fairest  daughters.  By  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle. 
Of  Troy." 

If  Pogram  was  as  glad  to  get  to  bed  as  Martin  was,  he 
must  have  been  well  rewarded  for  his  labors.  They  started 
off  again  next  day  (Martin  and  Mark  previously  disposing 
of  their  goods  to  the  storekeepers  of  whom  they  had  pur- 
chased them  for  any  thing  they  would  bring),  and  were 
fellow-travelers  to  within  a  short  distance  of  New  York. 
When  Pogram  was  about  to  leave  them  he  grew  thoughtful, 
and  after  pondering  for  some  time,  took  Martin  aside. 

"We  air  going  to  part,  sir,"  said  Pogram. 

"  Pray  don't  distress  yourself,"  said  Martin  ;  '*  we  must 
bear  it." 

"  It  ain't  that,  sir,"  returned  Pogram,  "  not  at  all.  But  I 
should  wish  you  to  accept  a  copy  of  My  orator." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Martin,  "  you  are  very  good.  I  shall 
be  most  happy." 

'^  It  ain't  quite  that,  sir,  neither,"  resumed  Pogram  :  "air 
you  bold  enough  to  introduce  a  copy  into  your  coun- 
try ? " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Martin.     "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  It's  sentiments   air  strong,   sir,"  hinted  Pogram,  darkly. 


544  MARTIN  CHU2ZLEWIT. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Martin.  "  I'll  take  a 
dozen  if  you  like." 

*'  No  sir,"  reported  Pogram.  "  Not  A  dozen.  That  is 
more  than  I  require.  If  you  are  content  to  run  the  hazard, 
sir,  here  is  one  for  your  lord  chancellor,"  producing  it,  "  and 
one  for  Your  principal  secretary  of  state.  I  should  wish 
them  to  see  it,  sir,  as  expressing  what  my  opinions  air.  That 
they  may  not  plead  ignorance  at  a  future  time.  But  don't 
get  into  danger,  sir,  on  my  account  !  " 

"  There  is  not  the  least  danger,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mar- 
tin. So  he  put  the  pamphlets  in  his  pockets,  and  they 
parted. 

Mr.  Bevan  had  v/ritten  in  his  letter  that,  at  a  certain  time, 
which  fell  out  happily  just  then,  he  would  be  at  a  certain 
hotel  in  the  city,  anxiously  expecting  to  see  them.  To  this 
place  they  repaired  without  a  moment's  delay.  They  had 
the  satisfaction  of  finding  him  within  ;  and  of  l^eing 
received  by  their  good  friend,  with  his  own  warmth  and 
heartiness, 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  and  ashamed,"  said  Martin,  "  to  have 
begged  of  you.  But  look  at  us.  See  what  we  are  and  judge 
to  what  we  are  reduced  !  " 

"  So  far  from  claiming  to  have  done  you  any  service," 
returned  the  other,  "  I  reproach  myself  with  having  been 
unwittingly,  the  original  cause  of  your  misfortunes.  I  no 
more  supposed  you  would  go  to  Eden  on  such  representa- 
tion as  you  received;  or,  indeed,  that  you  would  do  any  thing 
but  be  dispossessed,  by  the  readiest  means,  of  your  idea  that 
fortunes  were  so  easily  made  here,  than  I  thought  of  going  to 
Eden  myself." 

"  The  fact  is,  I  closed  with  the  thing  in  a  mad  and  san- 
guine manner,"  said  Martin,  *' and  the  less  said  about  it  the 
better  for  me.     Mark,  here,  hadn't  a  voice  in  the  matter." 

"  Well  !  But  he  hadn't  a  voice  in  any  other  matter,  had 
he  ? "  returned  Mr.  Bevan,  laughing  with  an  air  that  showed 
his  understanding  of  Mark  and  Martin  too. 

''  Not  a  very  powerful  one,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martin  with 
a  blush.  "  But  live  and  learn,  Mr.  Bevan  !  Nearly  die  and 
learn  :  and  we  learn  the  quicker." 

"  Now,"  said  their  friend,  "  about  your  plans.  You  mean 
to  return  home  at  once  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  think  so,"  returned  Martin  hastily,  for  he  turned 
pale  at  the  thought  of  any  other  suggestion.  **  That  is  your 
opinion  too,  I  hope  ? " 


Martin  chuzzlewit.  541 


ii 


Unquestionably.  For  I  don't  know  why  you  ever  came 
here;  thoucjh  it's  not  such  an  unusual  case,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
that  we  need  go  any  further  into  that.  You  don't  know  that 
the  ship  in  which  you  came  over,  with  our  friend  General 
Fladdock,  is  in  port,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Martin. 

"Yes.     And  is  advertised  to  sail  to-morrow." 

This  was  tempting  news,  but  tantalizing  too,  for  Martin 
knew  that  his  gettingany  employment  onboard  a  ship  of  that 
class  was  hopeless.  The  money  in  his  pocket  would  not  pay 
one-fourth  of  the  sum  he  had  already  borrowed,  and  if  it  had 
been  enough  for  their  passage-money,  he  could  hardly  have 
resolved  to  spend  it.  He  explained  this  to  Mr.  Bevan,  and 
stated  what  their  project  was. 

**Why,  that's  as  wild  as  Eden  every  bit,"  returned  his 
friend.  "You  must  take  your  passage  like  a  Christian;  at 
least,  as  like  a  Christian  as  a  fore-cabin  passenger  can: 
and  owe  me  a  few  more  dollars  than  you  intend.  If 
Mark  will  go  down  to  the  ship  and  see  what  passengers 
there  are,  and  finds  that  you  can  go  in  her,  without  being 
actually  suffocated,  my  advice  is,  go  !  You  and  I  will 
look  about  us  in  the  meantime  (we  won't  call  at  the  Norris's 
unless  you  like),  and  we  will  all  three  dine  together  in  the 
afternoon." 

Martin  had  nothing  to  express  but  gratitude,  and  so  it  was 
arranged.  But  he  went  out  of  the  room  after  Mark,  and 
advised  him  to  take  their  passage  in  the  Screzc,  though  they 
lay  upon  the  bare  deck,  which  Mr.  Tapley,  who  needed  no 
entreaty  on  the  subject,  readily  promised  to  do. 

When  he  and  Martin  met  again,  and  were  alone,  he  was 
in  high  spirits,  and  evidently  had  something  to  communicate, 
in  which  he  gloried  very  much. 

"  I've  done  Mr.  Bevan,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  Done  Mr.  Bevan  !  "  repeated  Martin. 

"  The  cook  of  the  Screw  went  and  got  married  yesterday, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

Martin  looked  at  him  for  further  explanation. 

"  And  when  I  got  on  board,  and  the  word  was  passed  that 
it  was  me,"  said  Mark,  "  the  mate  he  comes  and  asks  me 
whether  I'd  engage  to  take  this  said  cook's  place  upon  the 
passage  home.  '  For  you're  used  to  it,'  he  says,  '  you  were 
always  a  cooking  for  every  body  on  your  passage  out.'  And  so 
I  was,"  said  Mark,  "  although  I  never  cooked  before,  I'll  take 
my  oath." 


546  MAkriN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  What  did  you  say  ? "  demanded  Martin. 

"  Say  !  "  cried  Mark.  ''  That  I'd  take  any  thing  I  could 
get.  '  If  that's  so,'  says  the  mate,  '  why,  bring  a  glass  of 
rum;' which  they  brought  according.  And  my  wages,  sir," 
said  Mark  in  high  glee,"  pays  your  passage;  and  I've  put  the 
rolling  pin  in  your  berth  to  take  it  (it's  the  easy  one  up  in  the 
corner);  and  there  we  are,  Rule  Britannia,  and  Britons  strike 
home  !  " 

"  There  never  was  such  a  good  fellow  as  you  are  !  "  cried 
Martin,  seizing  him  by  the  hand.  "  But  what  do  you  mean 
by  '  doing  '  Mr.  Bevan,  Mark  ?" 

"Why,  don't  you  see,"  said  Mark.  "We  don't  tell  him, 
you  know.  We  take  his  money,  but  we  don't  spend  it. 
and  we  don't  keep  it.  What  we  do  is,  write  him  a  little  note, 
explaining  this  engagement,  and  roll  it  up,  and  leave  it  at  the 
bar,  to  be  given  to  him  after  we   are  gone.   Don't  you  see  ? " 

Martin's  delight  in  this  idea  was  not  inferior  to  Mark's. 
It  was  all  done  as  he  proposed.  They  passed  a  cheerful 
evening,  slept  at  the  hotel,  left  the  letter  as  arranged,  and 
went  off  to  the  ship  betimes  next  morning,  with  such  light 
hearts,  as  the  weight  of  their  past  miseries  engendered. 

"  Good-by  !  a  hundred  thousand  times  good-by  !  "  said 
Martin  to  their  friend.  "  How  shall  I  remember  all  your 
kindness  !     How  shall  I  ever  thank  you  !" 

"  If  you  ever  become  a  rich  man,  or  a  powerful  one," 
returned  his  friend,  "  you  shall  try  to  make  your  government 
more  careful  of  its  subjects  when  they  roam  abroad  to  live. 
Tell  it  what  you  know  of  emigration  in  your  own  case,  and 
impress  upon  it  how  much  suffering  may  be  prevented  with 
a  little  pains  !  " 

Cheerily,  lads,  cheerily  !  Anchor  weighed.  Ship  in  full 
sail.  Her  sturdy  bowsprit  pointed  true  to  England.  Amer- 
ica a  cloud  upon  the  sea  behind  them  ! 

"  Why,  cook,  what  are  you  thinking  of  so  steadily  ? " 
said  Martin. 

"  Why,  I  was  a-thinking,  sir,"  returned  Mark,"  that  if  I  was 
a  painter  and  was  called  upon  to  paint  the  American  eagle, 
how  should  I  do  it  ?  " 

"  Paint  it  as  like  an  eagle  as  you  could,  I  suppose." 

"  No,"  said  Mark.  "  That  wouldn't  do  for  me,  sir.  1 
should  want  to  draw  it  like  a  bat,  for  its  short-sightedness  ; 
like  a  bantam,  for  its  bragging  ;  like  a  magpie,  for  its  hon- 
esty ;  like  a  peacock,  for  its  vanity  ;  like  an  ostrich,  for  its 
putting  its  head  in  the  mud,  and  thinking  nobody  sees  it — " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  547 

'*  And  like  a  phoenix,  for  its  power  of  springing  from  the 
ashes  of  its  faults  and  vices,  and  soaring  up  anew  into  the 
sky  !  "  said  Martin.     "Well,  Mark.     Let  us  hope  so." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

ARRIVING  IN  ENGLAND,  MARTIN  WITNESSES  A  CEREMONY, 
FROM  WHICH  HE  DERIVES  THE  CHEERING  INFORMATION 
THAT    HE    HAS    NOT    BEEN    FORGOTTEN    IN    HIS    ABSENCE. 

It  was  mid-day,  and  high  water  in  the  English  port  for 
which  the  Screw  was  bound,  when,  borne  in  gallantly  upon 
the  fullness  of  the  tide,  she  let   go  her  anchor  in   the  river. 

Bright  as  the  scene  was  ;  fresh  and  full  of  motion  ;  airy, 
free,  and  sparkling  ;  it  was  nothing  to  the  life  and  exultation 
in  the  breasts  of  the  two  travelers,  at  sight  of  the  old 
churches,  roofs,  and  darkened  chimney-stacks  of  home. 
The  distant  roar,  that  swelled  up  hoarsely  from  the  busy 
streets,  was  music  in  their  ears  ;  the  lines  of  people  gazing 
from  the  wharves,  were  friends  held  dear  ;  the  canopy  of 
smoke  that  overhung  the  town,  was  brighter  and  more  beau- 
tiful to  them,  than  if  the  richest  silks  of  Persia  had  been 
waving  in  the  air.  And  though  the  water  going  on  its  glisten- 
ing track,  turned,  ever  and  again,  aside,  to  dance  and  sparkle 
round  great  ships,  and  heave  them  up  ;  and  leaped  from  off 
the  blades  of  oars,  a  shower  of  diving  diamonds  ;  and  wan- 
toned with  the  idle  boats,  and  swiftly  passed,  in  many  a 
sportive  chase,  through  obdurate  old  iron  rings,  set  deep  into 
the  stone-work  of  the  quays  ;  not  even  it  was  half  so  buoy- 
ant, and  so  restless,  as  their  fluttering  hearts,  when  yearning 
to  set  foot,  once  more,  on  native  ground. 

A  year  had  passed  since  those  same  spires  and  roofs  had 
faded  from  their  eyes.  It  seemed,  to  them,  a  dozen  years. 
Some  trifling  changes,  here  and  there,  they  called  to  mind  ; 
and  wondered  that  they  were  so  few  and  slight.  In  health 
and  fortune,  prospect,  and  resource,  they  came  back  poorer 
men  than  they  had  gone  away.  But  it  was  home.  And 
though  home  is  a  name,  a  word,  it  is  a  strong  one  ;  stronger 
than  magician  ever  spoke,  or  spirit  answered  to,  in  strongest 
conjuration. 

Being  set  ashore,  w^ith  very  little  money  in  their  pockets, 
and  no  definite  plan  of  operation  in  their  heads,  they  sought 
out  a  cheap  tavern,  where  they  regaled  upon  a  smoking  steak. 


548  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

and  certain  flowing  mugs  of  beer,  as  only  men  just  landed 
from  the  sea  can  revel  in  the  generous  dainties  of  the  earth. 
When  they  had  feasted,  as  two  grateful-tempted  giants  might 
have  done,  they  stirred  the  fire,  drew  back  the  glowing  cur- 
tain from  the  window,  and  making  each  a  sofa  for  himself,  by 
union  of  the  great  unwieldy  chairs,  gazed  blissfully  into  the 
street. 

Even  the  street  was  made  a  fairy  street,  by  being  half  hid- 
den in  an  atmosphere  of  steak,  and  strong,  stout,  stand-up 
English  beer.  For,  on  the  window  glass  hung  such  a  mist, 
that  Mr.  Tapley  was  obliged  to  rise  and  wipe  it  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, before  the  passengers  appeared  like  common  mor- 
tals. And  even  then,  a  spiral  little  cloud  went  curling  up 
from  their  two  glasses  of  hot  grog,  which  nearly  hid  them 
from  each  other. 

It  was  one  of  those  unaccountable  little  rooms  which  are 
never  seen  anywhere  but  in  a  tavern,  and  are  supposed  to 
have  got  into  taverns  by  reason  of  the  facilities  afforded  to 
the  architect  for  getting  drunk  while  engaged  in  their  con- 
struction. It  had  more  corners  in  it  than  the  brain  of  an 
obstinate  man;  was  full  of  mad  closets,  into  which  nothing 
could  be  put  that  was  not  specially  invented  and  made  for 
that  purpose;  had  mysterious  shelvings  and  bulk-heads,  and 
indications  of  staircases  in  the  ceiling;  and  was  elaborately 
provided  with  a  bell  that  rung  in  the  room  itself,  about  two 
feet  from  the  handle,  and  had  no  connection  whatever  w^ith 
any  other  part  of  the  establishment.  It  was  a  little  below  the 
pavement,  and  abutted  close  upon  it  ;  so  that  passengers 
grated  against  the  window  panes  with  their  -buttons,  and 
scraped  it  with  their  baskets;  and  fearful  boys  suddenly  com- 
ing between  a  thoughtful  guest  and  the  light,  derided  him,  or 
put  out  their  tongues  as  if  he  were  a  physician;  or  made  white 
knobs  on  the  ends  of  their  noses  by  flattening  the  same 
against  the  glass,  and  vanished  awfully,  like  specters. 

Martin  and  Mark  sat  looking  at  the  people  as  they 
passed,  debating  every  now  and  then,  what  their  first  step 
should  be. 

"  We  want  to  see  Miss  Mary,  of  course,"  said  Mark. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Martin.     ''  But  I  don't  know  where  she 
is.     Not  having  had  the  heart  to  write  in   our   distress — you 
yourself  thought  silence  most  advisable — and  consequent!*' 
never  having  heard  from  her  since  we  left  New  York  the  first 
time,  I  don't  know  where  she  is,  my  good  fellow.  " 

"  My  opinion  is,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  that  what  we've  got 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWJT.  549 

to  do,  is  to  travel  straight  to  the  Dragon.  There's  no  need 
for  you  to  go  there,  where  you're  known,  unless  you  like.  You 
may  stop  ten  miles  short  of  it.  I'll  go  on.  Mrs.  Lupin  will 
tell  me  all  the  news.  Mr.  Pinch  will  give  me  every  informa- 
tion that  we  want,  and  right  glad  Mr.  Pinch  will  be  to  do  it. 
My  proposal  is:  To  set  off  walking  this  afternoon.  To  stop 
when  we  are  tired.  To  get  a  lift  when  we  can.  To  walk 
when  we  can't.     To  do  it  at  once,  and  do  it  cheap." 

*'  Unless  we  do  it  cheap,  we  shall  have  some  difficulty  in 
doing  it  at  all,"  said  Martin,  pulling  out  the  bank,  and  telling 
it  over  in  his  hand. 

"  The  greater  reason  for  losing  no  time,  sir,"  replied  Mark. 
"  Whereas,  when  you've  seen  the  young  lady,  and  know  what 
state  of  mind  the  old  gentleman's  in,  and  all  about  it,  then 
you'll  know  what  to  do  next." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Martin.     "  You  are  quite  right." 

They  were  raising  their  glasses  to  their  lips,  when  their 
hands  stopped  midway,  and  their  gaze  was  arrested  by  a  fig- 
ure, v/hich  slowly,  very  slowly,  and  reflectively,  passed  the 
window  at  that  moment. 

Mr.  Pecksniff.  Placid,  calm,  but  proud.  Honestly  proud. 
Dressed  with  peculiar  care,  smiling  with  even  more  than  usual 
blandness,  pondering  on  the  beauties  of  his  art  with  a  mild 
abstraction  from  all  sordid  thoughts,  and  gently  traveling 
across  the  disk,  as  if  he  were  a  figure  in  a  magic  lantern. 

As  Mr.  Pecksniff"  passed,  a  person  coming  in  the  opposite 
direction  stopped  to  look  after  him  with  great  interest  and 
respect,  almost  with  veneration :  and  the  landlord  bouncing 
-out  of  the  house,  as  if  he  had  seen  him  too,  joined  this  per- 
son, and  spoke  to  him,  and  shook  his  head  gravely,  and 
looked  after  Mr.  Pecksniff  likewise. 

Martin  and  Mark  sat  staring  at  each  other,  as  if  they  could 
not  believe  it  ;  but  there  stood  the  landlord,  and  the  other 
man  still.  In  spite  of  the  indignation  with  which  this 
glimpse  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  inspired  him,  Martin  could  not 
help  laughing  heartily.     Neither  could  Mark. 

"We  must  inquire  into  this  !"  said  Martin.  "Ask  the 
landlord  in,  Mark." 

Mr.  Tapley  retired  for  that  purpose,  and  immediately  re- 
turned with  their  large-headed  host  in  safe  convoy. 

"Pray,  landlord  !"  said  Martin,  "who  is  that  gentleman 
who  passed  just  now,  and  whom  you  were  looking  after? " 

The  landlord  poked  the  fire  as  if,  in  his  desire  to  make  the 
most  of  his  answer,  he  had  become  indifferent  even  to  the 


550  MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT. 

price  of  coals,  and  putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  said, 
after  inflating  himself  to  give  still  further  effect  to  his  reply  : 

"  That,  gentlemen,  is  the  great  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  The  cele- 
brated architect,  gentlemen  ! 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  while  he  said  it,  as  if  he 
were  ready  to  assist  the  first  man  who  might  be  overcome 
by  the  intelligence. 

"  The  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  celebrated  architect,  gen- 
tlemen," said  the  landlord,  ''has  come  dowji  here,  to  help  to 
lay  the  first  stone  of  a  new  and  splendid  public  building." 

"  Is  it  to  be  built  from  his  designs  ? "  asked  Martin. 

*'  The  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  celebrated  architect,  gen- 
tlemen," returned  the  landlord,  who  seemed  to  have  an 
unspeakable  delight  in  the  repetition  of  these  words,  "  car- 
ried off  the  first  premium,  and  will  erect  the  building." 

"  Who  lays  the  stone  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Our  member  has  come  down  express,"  returned  the 
landlord.  *'  No  scrubs  would  do  for  no  such  a  purpose. 
Nothing  less  would  satisfy  our  directors  than  our  member 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  who  is  returned  upon  the  gentle- 
manly interest." 

"  Which  interest  is  that  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  What,  don't  you  know  !  "  returned  the  landlord. 

It  was  quite  clear  the  landlord  didn't.  They  always  told 
him  at  election-time  that  it  was  the  gentlemanly  side,  and  he 
immediately  put  on  his  top-boots,  and  voted  for  it. 

*'  When  does  the  ceremony  take  place  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

''  This  day,"  replied  the  landlord.  Then  pulling  out  his 
watch,  he  added,  impressively,  '' almost  this  minute," 

Martin  hastily  inquired  whether  there  was  any  possibility 
of  getting  in  to  witness  it,  and  finding  that  there  would  be 
no  objection  to  the  admittance  of  any  decent  person,  unless 
indeed  the  ground  were  full,  hurried  off  with  Mark,  as  hard 
as  they  could  go. 

They  were  fortunate  enough  to  squeeze  themselves  into  a 
famous  corner  on  the  ground,  where  they  could  see  all  that 
passed,  without  much  dread  of  being  beheld  by  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff in  return.  They  were  not  a  minute  too  soon,  for  as 
they  were  in  the  act  of  congratulating  each  other,  a  great 
noise  was  heard  at  some  distance,  and  every  body  looked 
toward  "the  gate.  Several  ladies  prepared  their  pocket 
handkerchiefs  for  waving;  and  a  stray  teacher  belonging 
to  the  charity  school  being  much  cheered  by  mistake,  was 
immensely  groaned  at  when  detected. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  551 

'    "  Perhaps  he  has  Tom  Pinch  with  him,"  Martin  whispered 
Mr.  Tapley. 

'*  It  would  be  rather  too  much  of  a  treat  for  him,  wouldn't 
it,  sir  ? "  whispered  Mr.  Tapley  in  return. 

There  was  no  time  to  discuss  the  probabilities  either  way, 
for  the  charity  school,  in  clean  linen,  came  filing  in  two  and 
two,  so  much  to  the  self-approval  of  all  the  people  present 
who  didn't  subscribe  to  it,  that  many  of  them  shed  tears.  A 
band  of  music  followed,  led  by  a  conscientious  drummer 
who  never  left  off.  Then  came  a  great  many  gentlemen  with 
wands  in  their  hands,  and  bows  on  their  breasts,  whose  share 
in  the  proceedings  did  not  appear  to  be  distinctly  laid  down, 
and  who  trod  upon  each  other,  and  blocked  up  the  entry  for 
a  considerable  period.  These  were  followed  by  the  mayor 
and  corporation,  all  clustering  round  the  member  for  the  gen- 
tlemanly interest,  who  had  the  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  cele- 
brated architect,  on  his  right  hand,  and  conversed  with  him 
familiarly  as  they  came  along.  Then  the  ladies  waved  their 
handkerchiefs,  and  the  gentlemen  their  hats,  and  the  charity 
children  shrieked,  and  the  member  for  the  gentlemanly 
interest  bowed. 

Silence  being  restored,  the  member  for  the  gentlemanly 
interest  rubbed  his  hands  and  wagged  his  head,  and  looked 
about  him  pleasantly;  and  there  was  nothing  this  member 
did,  at  which  some  lady  or  other  did  not  burst  into  an 
ecstatic  waving  of  her  pocket  handkerchief.  When  he 
looked  up  at  the  stone,  they  said  how  graceful  !  when  he 
peeped  into  the  hole,  they  said  how  condescending  !  when 
he  chatted  with  the  mayor,  they  said  how  easy  !  when  he 
folded  his  arms,  they  cried  with  one  accord,  how  statesman- 
like ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  observed  too  ;  closely.  When  he  talked 
to  the  mayor,  they  said,  Oh,  really,  what  a  courtly  man  he 
was  !  When  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  mason's  shoulder, 
giving  him  directions,  how  pleasant  his  demeanor,  to  the 
working  classes;  just  the  sort  of  man  who  made  their  toil  a 
pleasure  to  them,  poor  dear  souls  ! 

But  now  a  silver  trowel  was  brought;  and  when  the  mem- 
ber for  the  gentlemanly  interest,  tucking».up  his  coat-sleeve, 
did  a  little  slight-of-hand  with  the  mortar,  the  air  was  rent, 
so  loud  was  the  applause.  The  workman-like  manner  in 
which  he  did  it  was  amazing.  No  one  could  conceive  where 
such  a  gentlemanly  creature  could  have  picked  the  knowl- 
edge up. 


552  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

When  he  had  made  a  kind  of  dirt-pie  under  the  direction 
of  the  mason,  they  brought  a  little  vase  containing^  coins, 
the  which  the  member  of  the  gentlemanly  interest  jingled, 
as  if  he  were  going  to  conjure.  Whereat  they  said  how  droll, 
how  cheerful,  what  a  flow  of  spirits  !  This  put  into  its  place, 
an  ancient  scholar  read  the  inscription,  which  was  in  Latin  : 
not  in  English  :  that  would  never  do.  It  gave  great  satis- 
faction ;  especially  every  time  there  was  a  good  long  substan- 
tive in  the  third  declension,  ablative  case,  with  an  adjective 
to  match  ;  at  which  periods  the  assembly  became  very  ten- 
der, and  were  much  affected. 

And  now  the  stone  was  lowered  down  into  its  place, 
amidst  the  shouting  of  the  concourse.  When  it  was  firmly 
fixed,  the  member  for  the  gentlemanly  interest  struck  upon 
it  thrice  with  the  handle  of  the  trowel,  as  if  inquiring,  with 
a  touch  of  humor,  whether  any  body  was  at  home.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  then  unrolled  his  plans  (prodigious  plans  they 
were),  and  people  gathered  round  to  look  at  and  admire 
them. 

Martin,  who  had  been  fretting  himself — quite  unneces- 
sarily, as  Mark  thought — during  the  whole  of  these  proceed- 
ings, could  no  longer  restrain  his  impatience  ;  but  stepping 
forward  among  several  others,  looked  straight  over  the 
shoulder  of  the  unconscious  Mr.  Pecksniff,  at  the  designs 
and  plans  he  had  unrolled.  He  returned  to  Mark,  boiling 
with  rage. 

*'  Why,  what's  the  matter,  sir  ?  "  cried  Mark. 

*'  Matter  !  This  is  my  building." 

''Your  building,  sir  !  "    said  Mark. 

"  My  grammar-school.  I  invented  it.  I  did  it  all.  He 
has  only  put  four  windows  in,  the  villain,  and  spoiled  it  !  " 

Mark  could  hardly  believe  it  at  first,  but  being  assured 
that  it  was  really  so,  actually  held  him  to  prevent  his  inter- 
ference foolishly,  until  his  temporary  heat  was  past.  In  the 
meantime,  the  member  addressed  the  company  on  the 
gratifying  deed  which  he  had  just -performed. 

He  said  that  since  he  had  sat  in  Parliament  to  represent 
the  gentlemanly  interest  of  that  town,  and  he  might  add,  the 
lady  interest  he  hoped,  besides  (pocket  handkerchiefs),  it 
had  been  his  pleasant  duty  to  come  among  them,  and  to 
raise  his  voice  on  their  behalf  in  another  place  (pocket 
hankerchiefs  and  laughter),  often.  Thit  he  had  never  come 
among  them,  and  had  never  raised  his  voice,  with  lialf  such 
pure,  such  deej),  such    unalloyed    delight,  as  now.     *'  The 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  553 

present  orccasion,"  he  said,  "  v/ill  ever  be  memorable  to  me  ; 
not  only  for  the  reasons  I  have  assigned,  but  because  it  has 
afforded  me  an  opportunity  of  becoming  personally  known 
to  a  gentleman — " 

Here  he  pointed  the  trowel  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who  was 
greeted  with  vociferous  cheering,  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  heart. 

'*  To  a  gentleman  who,  I  am  happy  to  believe,  will  reap 
both  distinction  and  profit  from  this  field  :  whose  fame  had 
previously  penetrated  to  me — as  to  whose  ears  has  it  not  ! — 
but  whose  intellectual  countenance  I  never  had  the  distin- 
guished honor  to  behold  until  this  day,  and  whose  intellec- 
tual conversation  I  had  never  before  the  improving  pleasure 
to  enjoy." 

Every  body  seemed  very  glad  of  this,  and  applauded  more 
than  ever. 

"  Bat  I  hope  my  honorable  friend,"  said  the  gentlemanly 
member — of  course  he  added  '*  if  he  will  allow  me  to  call 
him  so,"  and  of  course  Mr.  Pecksniff  bowed — "  will  give  me 
many  opportunities  of  cultivating  the  knowledge  of  him  ; 
and  that  I  may  have  the  extraordinary  gratification  of 
reflecting  in  after  time  that  I  laid  on  this  day  two  first 
stones,  both  belonging  to  structures  which  shall  last  my 
life  !  " 

Great  cheering  again.  All  this  time,  Martin  was  cursing 
Mr.  Pecksniff  up  hill  and  down  dale. 

"  My  friends  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  reply.  "  My  duty 
is  to  build,  not  speak  ;  to  act,  not  talk  ;  to  deal  with  marble, 
stone,  and  brick  ;  not  language.  I  am  very  much  affected. 
God  bless  you  !  " 

This  address,  pumped  out  apparently  from  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
very  heart,  brought  the  enthusiasm  to  its  highest  pitch.  The 
pocket  handkerchiefs  were  waving  again  ;  the  charity  chil- 
dren were  admonished  to  grow  up  Pecksniffs,  every  boy 
among  them  ;  the  corporation,  gentlemen  with  wands,  mem- 
ber for  the  gentlemanly  interest,  all  cheered  for  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff. Three  cheers  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  !  Three  more  for  Mr. 
Pecksniff  !  Three  more  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gentlemen,  if  you 
please  !  One  more,  gentlemen,  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  let  it 
be  a  good  one  to  finish  with  ! 

In  short,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  supposed  to  have  done  a  great 
work,  and  was  very  kindly,  courteously,  and  generously 
rewarded.  When  the  procession  moved  away,  and  Martin 
and  Mark  were  left  almost  alone  upon  the  ground,  his  merits, 


554  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

and  a  desire  to  acknowledge  them,  formed  the  common 
topic.     He  was  only  second  to  the  gentlemanly  member. 

"  Compare  that  fellow's  situation  to-day,  with  ours  !  "  said 
Martin,  bitterly. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir  !  "  cried  Mark,  "  what's  the  use  ? 
Some  architects  are  clever  at  making  foundations,  and  some 
architects  are  clever  at  building  on  'em  when  they're  made. 
But  it'll  all  come  right  in  the  end,  sir  ;  it'll  all  come  right !  " 

'^  And  in  the  meantime — "  began  Martin. 

'^  In  the  meantime,  as  you  say,  sir,  we  have  a  deal  to  do, 
and  far  to  go.     So  sharp's  the  word,  and  jolly  !  " 

"  You  are  the  best  master  in  the  world,  Mark,"  said  Mar- 
tin, ''  and  I  will  not  be  a  bad  scholar  if  I  can  help  it.  I  am 
resolved!     So  come  !     Best  foot  foremost,  old  fellow!" 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

TOM     PINCH     DEPARTS    TO     SEEK     HIS     FORTUNE.         WHAT     HE 
FINDS  AT  STARTING.      • 

Oh  I  Avhat  a  different  town  Salisbury  was  in  Tom  Pinch's 
eyes  to  be  sure,  when  the  substantial  Pecksniff  of  his  heart 
melted  away  into  an  idle  dream!  He  possessed  the  same 
faith  in  the  wonderful  shops,  the  same  intensified  apprecia- 
tion of  the  mystery  and  wickedness  of  the  place  ;  made  the 
same  exalted  estimate  of  its  wealth,  population,  and  re- 
sources ;  and  yet  it  was  not  the  old  city  nor  any  thing  like  it. 
He  walked  into  the  market  while  they  were  getting  breakfast 
ready  for  him  at  the  inn  ;  and  though  it  was  the  same  mar- 
ket as  of  old,  crowded  by  the  same  buyers  and  sellers; 
brisk  with  the  same  business  ;  noisy  with  the  same  confusion 
of  tongues  and  cluttering  of  fowls  in  coops  ;  fair  with  the 
same  display  of  rolls  of  butter,  newly  made,  set  forth  in  linen 
cloths  of  dazzling  whiteness  ;  green  with  the  same  fresh 
show  of  dewy  vegetables  ;  dainty  with  the  same  array  in 
higglers'  baskets  of  small  shaving-glasses,  laces,  braces, 
trowser-straps,  and  hardware  ;  savory  with  the  same  unstint- 
ed show  of  delicate  pigs'  feet,  and  pies  made  precious  by 
the  pork  that  once  had  walked  upon  them;  still  it  was  strangely 
changed  to  Tom.  For,  in  the  center  of  the  market-place, 
he  missed  a  statue  he  had  set  up  there,  as  in  all  other  places 
of  his  personal  resort  ;  and  it  looked  cold  and  bare  without 
that  ornament. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  555 

The  change  lay  no  deeper  than  this,  for  Tom  was  far 
from  being  sage  enough  to  know  that  having  been  disap- 
pointed in  one  man,  it  would  have  been  a  strictly  rational 
and  eminently  wise  proceeding  to  have  revenged  himself 
upon  mankind  in  general,  by  mistrusting  them  one  and  all. 
Indeed  this  piece  of  justice,  though  it  is  upheld  by  the  au- 
thority of  divers  profound  poets  and  honorable  men,  bears 
a  nearer  resemblance  to  the  justice  of  that  good  vizier  m 
the  Thousand-and-one  Nights,  who  issues  orders  for  the  de- 
struction of  all  the  porters  in  Bagdad  because  one  of  that 
unfortunate  fraternity  is  supposed  to  have  misconducted 
himself,  than  to  any  logical,  not  to  say  Christian  system  of 
conduct,  known  to  the  world  in  later  times. 

Tom  had  so  long  been  used  to  steep  the  Pecksniff  of  his 
fancy  in  his  tea,  and  spread  him  out  upon  his  toast,  and 
take  him  as  a  relish  with  his  beer,  that  he  made  but  a 
poor  breakfast  on  the  first  morning  after  his  expulsion.  Nor 
did  he  much  improve  his  appetite  for  dinner  by  seriously 
considering  his  own  affairs,  and  taking  counsel  thereon  with 
his  friend  the  organist's  assistant. 

The  organist's  assistant  gave  it  as  his  decided  opinion 
that  whatever  Tom  did,  he  must  go  to  London  ;  for  there 
was  no  place  like  it.  Which  may  be  true  in  the  main, 
though  hardly,  perhaps,  in  itself,  a  sufficient  reason  for 
Tom's  going  there. 

But  Tom  had  thought  of  London  before,  and  had  coupled 
with  it  thoughts  of  his  sister,  and  of  his  old  friend  John  West- 
lock,  whose  advice  he  naturally  felt  disposed  to  seek  in  this 
important  crisis  of  his  fortunes.  To  London,  therefore,  he 
resolved  to  go  ;  and  he  went  away  to  the  coach-office  at 
once,  to  secure  his  place.  The  coach  being  already  full,  he 
was  obliged  to  postpone  his  departure  until  the  next  night  ; 
but  even  this  circumstance  had  its  bright  side  as  well  as  its 
dark  one,  for  though  it  threatened  to  reduce  his  poor  purse 
with  unexpected  country-charges,  it  afforded  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  writing  to  Mrs.  Lupin  and  appointing  his  box  to  be 
brought  to  the  old  finger-post  at  the  old  time  ;  which  would 
enable  him  to  take  that  treasure  with  him  to  the  metropolis, 
and  save  the  expense  of  its  carriage.  *'  So,"  said  Tom,  com- 
forting himself,  "  it's  very  nearly  as  broad  as  it's  long." 

And  it  can  not  be  denied  that,  when  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  even  this  extent,he  felt  an  unaccustomed  sense  of  free- 
dom— a  vague  and  indistinct  impression  of  holiday-making 
—which  was  very  luxurious.     He  had  his  moments  of  depres- 


556  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sion  and  anxiety,  and  they  were,  with  good  reason,  pretty  nu- 
merous; but  still,  it  was  wonderfully  pleasant  to  reflect  that 
he  was  his  own  master,  and  could  plan  and  scheme  for 
himself.  It  was  startling,  thrilling,  vast,  difficult  to  under- 
stand; it  was  a  stupendous  truth,  teeming  with  responsi- 
bility and  self-distrust;  but,  in  spite  of  all  his  cares,  it 
gave  a  curious  relish  to  the  viands  at  the  inn,  and  inter- 
posed a  dreamy  haze  between  him  and  his  prospects,  in 
which  they  sometimes  showed  to  magical  advantage. 

In  this  unsettled  state  of  mind,  Tom  went  once  more 
to  bed  in  the  low  four-poster,  to  the  same  immovable 
surprise  of  the  efhgies  of  the  former  landlord  and  the  fat 
ox;  and  in  this  condition,  passed  the  whole  of  the  succeed- 
ing day.  When  the  coach  came  round  at  last,  with  "  Lon- 
don "  blazoned  in  letters  of  gold  upon  the  boot,  it  gave 
Tom  such  a  turn,  that  he  was  half  disposed  to  run  away. 
But  he  didn't  do  it;  for  he  took  his  seat  upon  the  box 
instead,  and  looking  down  upon  the  four  grays,  felt  as  if  he 
were  another  gray  himself,  or,  at  all  events,  a  part  of  the 
turn-out;  and  was  quite  confused  by  the  novelty  and 
splendor  of  his  situation. 

And  really  it  might  have  confused  a  less  modest  man  than 
Tom  to  find  himself  sitting  next  that  coachman;  for  of  all 
the  swells  that  ever  flourished  a  whip,  professionally,  he 
might  have  been  elected  emperor.  He  didn't  handle  his 
gloves  like  another  man,  but  put  them  on — even  when  he 
was  standing  on  the  pavement,  quite  detached  from  the 
coach — as  if  the  four  grays  were,  somehow  or  other,  at  the 
ends  of  the  fingers.  It  was  the  same  with  his  hat.  He  did 
things  with  his  hat,  which  nothing  but  an  unlimited  knowl- 
edge of  horses  and  the  wildest  freedom  of  the  road,  could 
ever  have  made  him  perfect  in.  Valuable  little  parcels  were 
brought  to  him  with  particular  instructions,  and  he  pitched 
them  into  this  hat,  and  stuck  it  on  again;  as  if  the  laws  of 
gravity  did  not  admit  of  such  an  event  as  its  being  knocked 
off  or  blown  off,  and  nothing  like  an  accident  could  befall 
it.  The  guard,  too  !  Seventy  breezy  miles  a  day  were 
written  in  his  very  whiskers.  His  manners  were  a  canter; 
his  conversation  a  round  trot.  He  was  a  fast  coach  upon 
a  down-hill  turnpike-road;  he  was  all  pace.  A  wagon 
couldn't  have  moved  slowly,  with  that  guard  and  his  key- 
bugle  on  the  top  of  it. 

These  were  all  foreshadowings  of  London,  Tom  thought, 
as  he  sat  upon  the  box,  and  looked  about  him.     Such  a 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  557 

coachman  and  such  a  guard,  never  could  have  existed  be* 
tween  Salisbury  and  any  other  place.  The  coach  was  none 
of  your  steady-going,  yokel  coaches,  but  a  swaggering, 
rakish,  dissipated  London  coach;  up  all  night,  and  lying  by 
all  day,  and  leading  a  devil  of  a  life.  It  cared  no  more 
for  Salisbury  than  if  it  had  been  a  hamlet.  It  rattled 
noisily  through  the  best  streets,  defied  the  cathedral,  took 
the  worst  corners  sharpest,  went  cutting  in  everywhere, 
making  every  thing  get  out  of  its  way;  and  spun  along  the 
open  country-road,  blowing  a  lively  defiance  out  of  its  key- 
bugle,  as  its  last  glad  parting  legacy. 

It  was  a  charming  evening.  Mild  and  bright.  And  even 
with  the  weight  upon  his  mind  which  arose  out  of  the  im- 
mensity and  uncertainty  of  London,  Tom  could  not  resist 
the  captivating  sense  of  rapid  motion  through  the  pleasant 
air.  The  four  grays  skimmed  along,  as  if  they  liked  it 
quite  as  well  as  Tom  did;  the  bugle  was  in  as  high  spirits 
as  the  grays;  the  coachman  chimed  in  sometimes  with  his 
voice;  the  wheels  hummed  cheerfully  in  unison;  the  brass 
work  on  the  harness  was  an  orchestra  of  little  bells;  and 
thus,  as  they  went  clinking,  jingling,  rattling  smoothly  on, 
the  whole  concern,  from  the  buckles  of  the  leaders'  coup- 
ling-reins, to  the  handle  of  the  hind  boot,  was  one  great 
instrument  of  music. 

Yoho,  past  hedges,  gates  and  trees;  past  cottages  and 
barns,  and  people  going  home  from  work.  Yoho,  past 
donkey-chaises,  drawn  aside  into  the  ditch,  and  empty  carts 
with  rampant  horses,  whipped  up  at  a  bound  upon  the 
little  water-course,  and  held  by  struggling  carters  close  to 
the  five-barred  gate,  until  the  coach  had  passed  the  nar- 
row turning  in  the  road.  Yoho,  by  churches  dropped 
down  by  themselves  in  quiet  nooks,  with  rustic  burial- 
grounds  about  them,  where  the  graves  are  green,  and  daisies 
sleep — for  it  is  evening — on  the  bosoms  of  the  dead.  Yoho, 
past  streams,  in  which  the  cattle  cool  their  feet,  and  where 
the  rushes  grow;  past  paddock-fences,  farms  and  rick- 
yards;  past  last  year's  stacks,  cut,  slice  by  slice,  away,  and 
showing,  in  the  waning  light,  like  ruined  gables,  old  and 
brown.  Yoho,  down  the  pebbly  dip,  and  through  the 
merry  water-splash,  and  up  at  a  canter  to  the  level  road 
again.     Yoho  !  Yoho  ! 

Was  the  box  there,  when  they  came  up  to  the  old  finger- 
post ?  The  box  !  Was  Mrs.  Lupin  herself  ?  Had  she  turned 
out  magnificently  as  a  hostess  should,  in  her  own  chaise-cart, 


553  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

and  was  she  sitting  in  a  mahogany  chair,  driving  her  own 
horse  Dragon  (who  ought  to  have  been  called  Dumpling),  and 
looking  lovely  ?  Did  the  stage-coach  pull  up  beside  her, 
shaving  her  very  wheel,  and  even  while  the  guard  helped 
her  man  up  with  the  trunk,  did  he  send  the  glad  echoes  of 
his  bugle  careering  down  the  chimneys  of  the  distant  Peck- 
sniff, as  if  the  coach  expressed  its  exultation  in  the  rescue  of 
Tom  Pinch  ? 

*'  This  is  kind,  indeed  !  "  said  Tom,  bending  down  to 
shake  hands  with  her.  ''  I  didn't  mean  to  give  you  this 
trouble." 

"  Trouble,  Mr.  Pinch  ! "  cried  the  hostess  of  the  Dragon. 

"  Well !  It's  a  pleasure  to  you,  I  know,"  said  Tom, 
squeezing  her  hand  heartily.     "  Is  there  any  news  ?  " 

The  hostess  shook  her  head. 

"  Say  you  saw  me,"  said  Tom,  "  and  that  I  was  very  bold 
and  cheerful,  and  not  a  bit  down-hearted  ;  and  that  I  en- 
treated her  to  be  the  same,  for  all  is  certain  to  come  right  at 
last.     Good-by  !  " 

''You'll  write  when  you  get  settled,  Mr.  Pinch?"  said 
Mrs.  Lupin. 

"  When  I  get  settled  !  "  cried  Tom,  with  an  involuntary 
opening  of  his  eyes.  "  Oh,  yes,  I'll  write  when  I  get  set- 
tled. Perhaps  I  had  better  write  before,  because  I  may  find 
that  it  takes  a  little  time  to  settle  myself,  not  having  too 
much  money,  and  having  only  one  friend.  I  shall  give  your 
love  to  the  friend,  by  the  way.  You  were  always  great  with 
Mr.  Westlock,  you  know.     Good-by  !  " 

"  Good-by  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  hastily  producing  a  basket 
with  a  long  bottle  sticking  out  of  it.  '*  Take  this.  Good- 
by  ! " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  carry  it  to  London  for  you  ?  "  cried 
Tom.     She  was  already  turning  the  chaise -cart  round. 

*'  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin.  '^  It's  only  a  little  something 
for  refreshment  on  the  road.  Sit  fast.  Jack.  Drive  on,  sir. 
All  right  !     Good-by  !  " 

She  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  before  Tom  collected 
himself  ;  and  then  he  was  waving  his  hand  lustily  ;  and  so 
was  she. 

"  And  that's  the  last  of  the  old  finger-post,"  thought  Tom, 
straining  his  eyes,  "  where  I've  so  often  stood,  to  see  this 
very  coach  go  by,  and  where  I've  parted  with  so  many  com- 
panions !  I  used  to  compare  this  coach  to  some  great  mon- 
ster that  appeared  at  certai-n  times  to  bear  my  friends  away 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  559 

into  the  world.  And  now  it's  bearing  me  away  to  seek  my 
fortune,  Heaven  knows  where  and  how  !  " 

It  made  Tom  melancholy  to  picture  himself  walking  up 
the  lane  and  back  to  Pecksniff's  as  of  old  ;  and  being  mel- 
ancholy, he  looked  downward  at  the  basket  on  his  knee, 
which  he  had  for  the  moment  forgotten. 

"  She  is  the  kindest  and  most  considerate  creature  in  the 
world,"  thought  Tom.  "Now  I  >^/2^w  that  she  particularly 
told  that  man  of  hers  not  to  look  at  me,  on  purpose  to  pre- 
vent my  throwing  him  a  shilling  !  I  had  it  ready  for  him  all 
the  time,  and  he  never  once  looked  toward  me  ;  whereas 
that  man  naturally  (for  I  know  him  very  well),  would  have 
done  nothing  but  grin  and  stare.  Upon  my  word,  the  kind- 
ness of  people  perfectly  melts  me." 

Here  he  caught  the  coachman's  eye.  The  coachman 
winked.  "  Remarkable  fine  woman  for  her  time  of  life," 
said  the  coachman. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  returned  Tom.     "So  she  is." 

"  Finer  than  many  a  young  'un,  I  mean  to  say,"  observed 
the  coachman.     ''  Eh  !  " 

"  Than  many  a  young  one,"  Tom  assented. 

"  I  don't  care  for  'em  myself  when  they're  too  young," 
remarked  the  coachman. 

This  was  a  matter  of  taste,  which  Tom  did  not  feel  him- 
self called  upon  to  discuss. 

"  You'll  seldom  find  'em  possessing  correct  opinions  about 
refreshment,  for  instance,  when  they're  too  young,  you  know," 
said  the  coachman  :  "a  woman  must  have  arrived  at  ma- 
turity, before  her  mind's  equal  to  coming  provided  with  a 
basket  like  that." 

*'  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  what  it  contains  ?  "  said 
Tom,  smiling. 

As  the  coachman  only  laughed,  and  as  Tom  was  curious 
himself,  he  unpacked  it,  and  put  the  articles,  one  by  one, 
upon  the  footboard.  A  cold  roast  fowl,  a  packet  of  ham  in 
slices,  a  crusty  loaf,  a  piece  of  cheese,  a  paper  of  biscuit, 
half  a  dozen  apples,  a  knife,  some  butter,  a  screw  of  salt, 
and  a  bottle  of  old  sherry.  There  was  a  letter  besides, 
which  Tom  put  in  his  pocket. 

The  coachman  was  so  earnest  in  his  approval  of  Mrs. 
Lupin's  provident  habits,  and  congratulated  Tom  so  warmly 
on  his  good  fortune,  that  Tom  felt  it  necessary,  for  the  lady's 
sake,  to  explain  that  the  basket  was  strictly  a  Platonic  basket, 
and  had  merely  been  presented  to  him  in  the  way  of  friend- 


56o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ship.  When  he  had  made  the  statement  with  perfect  gravity; 
for  he  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  disabuse  the  mind  of  this 
lax  rover  of  any  incorrect  impressions  on  the  subject;  he 
signified  that  he  would  be  happy  to  share  the  gifts  with  him 
and  proposed  that  they  should  attack  the  basket  in  a  spirit 
of  good  fellowship  at  any  time  in  the  course  of  the  night 
which  the  coachman's  experience  and  knowledge  of  the  road 
might  suggest,  as  being  best  adapted  to  the  purpose.  From 
this  time  they  chatted  so  pleasantly  together,  that  although 
Tom  knew  infinitely  more  of  unicorns  than  horses,  the  coach- 
man informed  his  friend  the  guard,  at  the  end  of  the  next 
stage,  *'  that  rum  as  the  box-seat  looked,  he  was  as  good  a 
one  to  go,  in  pint  of  conversation,  as  ever  he'd  wish  to 
sit  by." 

Yoho,  among  the  gathering  shades;  making  of  no  account 
the  deep  reflections  of  the  trees,  but  scampering  on  through 
light  and  darkness,  all  the  same,  as  if  the  light  of  London 
fifty  miles  away,  were  quite  enough  to  travel  by,  and  some  to 
spare.  Yoho,  beside  the  village-green,  where  cricket-players 
linger  yet,  and  every  little  indentation  made  in  the  fresh 
grass  by  bat  or  wicket,  ball  or  player's  foot,  sheds  out  its 
perfume  on  the  night.  Away  with  four  fresh  horses  from  the 
Baldfaced  Stag,  where  topers  congregate  about  the  door 
admiring;  and  the  last  team  with  traces  hanging  loose,  go 
roaming  off  toward  the  pond,  until  observed  and  shouted 
after  by  a  dozen  throats,  while  volunteering  boys  pursue 
them.  Now,  with  a  clattering  of  hoofs  and  striking  out  of 
fiery  sparks,  across  the  old  stone  bridge,  and  down  again  into 
the  shadowy  road,  and  through  the  open  gate,  and  far  away, 
away,  into  the  wold.     Yoho  ! 

Yoho,  behind  there,  stop  that  bugle  for  a  moment  !  Come 
creeping  over  to  the  front,  along  the  coach-roof,  guard,  and 
make  one  of  this  basket !  Not  that  we  slacken  in  our  pace 
the  while,  not  we:  we  rather  put  the  bits  of  blood  upon  their 
mettle,  for  the  greater  glory  of  the  snack.  Ah  !  It  is  long 
since  this  bottle  of  old  wine  was  brought  into  contact  with 
the  mellow  breath  of  night,  you  may  depend,  and  rare  good 
stuff  it  is  to  wet  a  bugler's  whistle  with.  Only  try  it.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  turning  up  your  finger.  Bill,  another  pull  !  Now 
take  your  breath,  and  try  the  bugle,  Bill.  There's  music  ! 
There's  a  tone  !  **  Over  the  hills  and  far  away,"  indeed. 
Yoho!  The  skittish  mare  is  all  alive  to-night.  Yoho  ! 
Yoho  ! 

See  the  bright  moon  !     High  up  before  we  know  it:  mak- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  561 

ing  the  earth  reflect  the  objects  on  its  breast  like  water. 
Hedges,  trees,  low  cottages,  church  steeples,  blighted  stumps 
and  flourishing  young  slips,  have  all  grown  vain  upon  the 
sudden,  and  mean  to  contemplate  their  own  fair  images  till 
morning.  The  poplars  yonder  rustle,  that  their  quivering 
leaves  may  see  themselves  upon  the  ground.  Not  so  the  oak; 
trembling  does  not  become  him;  and  he  watches  himself  in 
his  stout  old  burly  steadfastness,  without  the  motion  of  a 
twig.  The  moss-grown  gate,  ill-poised  upon  its  creaking 
hinges,  crippled  and  decayed,  swings  to  and  fro  before  its 
glass,  liks  some  fantastic  dowager  :  while  our  own  ghostly 
likeness  travels  on,  Yoho!  Yoho!  through  ditch  and  brake, 
upon  the  plowed  land  and  the  smooth,  along  the  steep  hill 
side  and  steeper  wall,  as  if  it  were  a  phantom-hunter. 

Clouds  too  !  And  a  mist  upon  the  hollow  !  Not  a  dull 
fog  that  hides  it,  but  a  light  airy  gauze-like  mist,  which  in 
our  eyes  of  modest  admiration  gives  a  new  charm  to  the 
beauties  it  is  spread  before:  as  real  gauze  has  done  ere  now, 
and  would  again,  so  please  you,  though  we  were  the  pope. 
Yoho  !  Why  now  we  travel  like  the  moon  herself.  Hiding 
this  minute  in  a  grove  of  trees;  next  minute  in  a  patch  of 
vapor;  emerging  now  upon  our  broad  clear  course;  withdraw- 
ing now,  but  always  dashing  on,  our  journey  is  a  counter- 
part of  hers.     Yoho!    A  match  against  the  moon  ! 

The  beauty  of  the  night  is  hardly  felt,  when  day  comes 
leaping  up.  Yoho  !  Tv/o  stages,  and  the  country  roads  are 
almost  changed  to  a  continuous  street.  Yoho,  past  market- 
gardens,  rows  of  houses,  villas,  crescents,  terraces,  and 
squares;  past  wagons,  coaches,  carts;  past  early  workmen, 
late  stragglers,  drunken  men,  and  sober  carriers  of  loads; 
past  brick  and  mortar  in  its  every  shape;  and  in  among  the 
rattling  pavements,  where  a  jaunty  seat  upon  a  coach  is  not 
so  easy  to  preserve  !  Yoho,  down  countless  turnings,  and 
through  countless  mazy  ways,  until  an  old  inn-yard  is  gained 
and  Tom  Pinch ^  getting  down,  quite  stunned  and  gidd)'',  is  in 
London! 

"  Five  minutes  before  the  time,  too  !  "  said  the  driver,  as 
he  received  his  fee  of  Tom. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Tom,  "  I  should  not  have  minded 
very  much,  if  we  had  been  five  hours  after  it ;  for  at  this 
early  hour  I  don't  know  where  to  go,  or  what  to  do  with  my- 
self.'" 

"Don't  they  expect  you  then  ? "  inquired  the  driver. 

''  Who  ? "  said  Tom. 


562  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Why,  them,"  returned  the  driver. 

His  mind  was  so  clearly  running  on  the  assumption  of 
Tom's  having  come  to  town  to  see  an  extensive  circle  of 
anxious  relations  and  friends,  that  it  would  have  been  pretty 
hard  work  to  undeceive  him.  Tom  did  not  try.  He  cheer- 
fully evaded  the  subject,  and  going  into  the  inn,  fell  fast 
asleep  before  a  fire  in  one  of  the  public  rooms  opening  from 
the  yard.  When  he  awoke,  the  people  in  the  house  were  all 
astir,  so  he  washed  and  dressed  himself  ;  to  his  great  refresh- 
ment after  the  journey  ;  and,  it  being  by  that  time  eight 
o'clock,  went  forth  at  once  to  see  his  old  friend  John. 

John  Westlock  lived  in  Furnival's  Inn,  High  Holborn, 
which  was  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk  of  Tom's  start- 
ing-point, but  seemed  a  long  way  off,  by  reason  of  his  going 
two  or  three  miles  out  of  the  straight  road  to  make  a  short 
cut.  When  at  last  he  arrived  outside  John's  door,  two  stories 
up,  he  stood  faltering  with  his  hand  upon  the  knocker,  and 
trembled  from  head  to  foot.  For  he  was  rendered  very  ner- 
vous by  the  thought  of  having  to  relate  what  had  fallen  out 
between  himself  and  Pecksniff  ;  and  he  had  a  misgiving  that 
John  would  exult  fearfully  in  the  disclosure. 

*'  But  it  must  be  made,"  thought  Tom,  "  sooner  or  later  ; 
and  I  had  better  get  it  over." 

Rat  tat. 

*'  I  am  afraid  that's  not  a  London  knock,"  thought  Tom. 
*'  It  didn't  sound  bold.  Perhaps  that's  the  reason  why 
nobody  answers  the  door." 

It  is  quite  certain  that  nobody  came,  and  that  Tom  stood 
looking  at  the  knocker,  wondering  whereabout  in  the  neigh- 
borhood a  certain  gentleman  resided,  who  was  roaring  out 
to  somebody  "  Come  in  !  "  witli  all  his  might. 

''  Bless  my  soul  !  "  thought  Tom  at  last.  *'  Perhaps  he 
lives  here,  and  is  calling  to  me.  I  never  thought  of  that. 
Can  I  open  the  door  from  the  outside,  I  wonder.  Yes,  to 
be  sure  I  can." 

To  be  sure  he  could,  by  turning  the  handle  :  and  to  be 
sure  when  he  did  turn  it  the  same  voice  came  rushing  out, 
crying,  "  Why  don't  you  come  in  ?  Come  in,  do  you  hear  ? 
What  are  you  standing  there  for?" — quite  violently. 

Tom  stepped  from  the  little  passage  into  the  room  from 
which  these  sounds  proceeded,  and  had  barely  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  gentleman  in  a  dressing-gown  and  slii)pers  (with 
his  boots  beside  him  ready  to  i)ut  on),  sitting  at  his  break- 
fast with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand,  when  the  said  gentleman, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  563 

at  the  imminent  hazard  of  oversetting  his  tea-table,  made  a 
plunge  at  Tom,  and  hugged  him. 

*'  Why,  Tom,  my  boy  !  "  cried  the  gentleman.     "  Tom  !  " 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Mr.  Westlock  !  "  said  Tom 
Pinch,  shaking  both  his  hands,  and  trembling  more  than 
ever.     "  How  kind  you  are  !  " 

"  Mr.  Westlock  !  "  repeated  John,  "  what  do  you  mean  by 
that,  Pinch  ?  You  have  not  forgotten  my  Christian  name,  I 
suppose  ?" 

*'  No,  John,  no.  I  have  not  forgotten  it,"  said  Thomas 
Pinch.     "  Good  gracious  me,  how  kind  you  are  !  " 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  in  all  my  life  !  "  cried  John. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  over  and  over  again  ? 
What  did  you  expect  me  to  be,  I  wonder  !  Here,  sit  down, 
Tom,  and  be  a  reasonable  creature.  How  are  you,  my  boy  ? 
I  am  delighted  to  see  you  !  " 

"  And  I  am  delighted  to  see_>'<?^/,"  said  Tom. 

**  It's  mutual,  of  course,"  returned  John.  "  It  always  was, 
I  hope.  If  I  had  known  you  had  been  coming,  Tom,  I 
would  have  had  something  for  breakfast.  I  would  rather 
have  such  a  surprise  than  the  best  breakfast  in  the  world, 
myself,  but  yours  is  another  case,  and  I  have  no  doubt  you 
are  as  hungry  as  a  hunter.  You  must  make  out  as  well  as 
you  can,  Tom,  and  we'll  recompense  ourselves  at  dinner 
time.  You  take  sugar  I  know  ;  I  recollect  the  sugar  at 
Pecksniff's.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  How  is  Pecksniff  ?  When  did  you 
come  to  town  ?  Do  begin  at  something  or  other,  Tom. 
There  are  only  scraps  here,  but  they  are  not  at  all  bad. 
Boar's  head  potted.  Try  it,  Tom  !  Make  a  beginning 
whatever  you  do.  What  an  old  blade  you  are  !  I  am  de- 
listed to  see  you." 

While  he  delivered  himself  of  these  words  in  a  state  of 
great  commotion,  John  was  constantly  running  backward 
and  forward  to  and  from  the  closet,  bringing  out  all  sorts  of 
things  in  pots,  scooping  extraordinary  quantities  of  tea  out 
of  the  caddy,  dropping  French  rolls  into  his  boots,  pouring 
hot  water  over  the  butter,  and  making  a  variety  of  similar 
mistakes  without  disconcerting  himself  in  the  least. 

"  There  !  "  said  John,  sitting  down  for  the  fiftieth  time, 
and  instantly  starting  up  again  to  make  some  other  addition 
to  the  breakfast.  "  Now  we  are  as  well  off  as  we  are  likely 
to  be  till  dinner.  And  now  let  us  have  the  news,  Tom. 
Imprimis,  how's  Pecksniff  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  he  is,"  was  Tom's  grave  answer. 


5G4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

John  Westlock  put  the  teapot  down,  and  looked  at  him 
in  astonishment. 

"  I  don't  know  how  he  is,"   said    Thomas   Pinch  ;  "  and 
saving  that  I  wish  liim  no  ill,  I  don't  care.     I  have  left  him 
John.    I  have  left  him  forever." 

"  Voluntarily  ?  " 

*'  Why  no,  for  he  dismissed  me.  But,  I  had  first  found  out 
that  I  was  mistaken  in  him  ;  and  I  could  not  have  remained 
with  him  under  any  circumstances.  I  grieve  to  say  that  you 
were  right  in  your  estimate  of  his  character.  It  may  be  a 
ridiculous  weakness,  John,  but  it  has  been  very  painful  and 
bitter  to  me  to  find  this  out,  I  do  assure  you." 

Tom  had  no  need  to  direct  that  appealing  look  toward 
his  friend,  in  mild  and  gentle  deprecation  of  his  answering 
with  a  laugh.  John  Westlock  would  as  soon  have  thought  of 
striking  him  down  upon  the  floor. 

*'  It  was  all  a  dream  of  mine,"  said  Tom,  '*  and  it  is  over, 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened,  at  some  other  time.  Bear  with 
my  folly,  John.  I  do  not,  just  now,  like  to  think  or  speak 
about  it." 

"I  swear  to  you,  Tom,"  returned  his  friend,  with  great 
earnestness  of  manner,  after  remaining  silent  for  a  few 
moments,  ^'  that  when  I  see,  as  I  do  now,  how  deeply  you 
feel  this,  I  don't  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry,  that  you 
have  made  the  discovery  at  last.  I  reproach  myself  with  the 
thought  that  I  ever  jested  on  the  subject;  I  ought  to  have 
known  better." 

**  My  dear  friend,"  said  Tom,  extending  his  hand,  "it  is 
very  generous  and  gallant  in  you  to  receive  me  and  my  dis- 
closure in  this  spirit;  it  makes  me  blush  to  think  that  I 
should  have  felt  a  moment's  uneasiness  as  I  came  along. 
You  can't  think  what  a  weight  is  lifted  off  my  mind,"  said 
Tom,  taking  up  his  knife  and  fork  again,  and  looking  very 
cheerful.     "  I  shall  punish  the  boar's  head  dreadfully." 

The  host,  thus  reminded  of  his  duties,  instantly  betook 
himself  to  piling  up  all  kinds  of  irreconcilable  and  contra- 
dictory viands  in  'Fom's  plate,  and  a  very  capital  breakfast 
Tom  made,  and  very  much  the  better  for  it,  Tom  felt. 

*'  That's  all  right,"  said  John,  after  contemplating  his  visi- 
tor's proceedings,  with  infinite  satisfaction.  **  Now,  about 
our  plans.  You  are  going  to  stay  with  me,  of  course. 
Where's  your  box  ?  " 

"  It's  at  the  inn,"  said  Tom.     "  I  didn't  intend " 

"Nevermind  what  you    didn't    intend,"  John  Westlock 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  565 

interposed.  "  What  you  did  intend  is  more  to  the  purpose. 
You  intended,  in  coming  here,  to  ask  my  advice,  did  you 
not,  Tom  V 

"Certainly." 

"  And  to  take  it  when  I  gave  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Tom,  smiling,  *'  if  it  were  good  advice, 
which,  being  yours,  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be." 

"  Very  well.  Then  don't  be  an  obstinate  old  humbug  in 
the  outset,  Tom,  or  I  shall  shut  up  shop  and  dispense  none 
of  that  invaluable  commodity.  You  are  on  a  visit  to  me.  I 
wish  I  had  an  organ  for  you,  Tom  !  " 

"  So  do  the  gentlemen  down-stairs,  and  the  gentlemen 
overhead,  I  have  no  doubt,"  was  Tom's  reply. 

"  Let  me  see.  In  the  first  place,  you  will  wish  to  see  your 
sister  this  morning,"  pursued  his  friend,  "  and  of  course  you 
will  like  to  go  there  alone.  I'll  walk  part  of  the  way  with 
you,  and  see  about  a  little  business  of  my  own,  and  meet  you 
here  again  in  the  afternoon.  Put  that  in  your  pocket,  Tom. 
It's  only  the  key  of  the  door.  If  you  come  home  first,  you'll 
want  it." 

"  Really,"  said  Tom,  "  quartering  one's  self  upon  a  friend 
in  this  way —  " 

"  Why,  there  are  two  keys,"  interposed  John  Westlock. 
"  I  can't  open  the  door  with  them  both  at  once,  can  I  ? 
What  a  ridiculous  fellow  you  are,  Tom  !  Nothing  particu- 
lar you'd  like  for  dinner,  is  there  ? " 

"  Oh  dear  no,"  said  Tom. 

"  Very  well,  then  you  may  as  well  leave  it  to  me.  Have  a 
glass  of  cherry  brandy,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Not  a  drop  !  What  remarkable  chambers  these  are  !  " 
said  Pinch,  "  there's  every  thing  in  'em  !  " 

"  Bless  your  soul,  Tom,  nothing  but  a  few  little  bachelor 
contrivances  !  the  sort  of  impromptu  arrangements  that 
might  have  suggested  themselves  to  Philip  Quarll  or  Robin- 
son Crusoe  ;  that's  all.  What  do  you  say  ?  Shall  we 
walk  ? " 

"  By  all  means,"  cried  Tom.     "As  soon  as  you  like." 

Accordingly,  John  Westlock  took  the  French  rolls  out  of 
his  boots,  and  put  his  boots  on,  and  dressed  himself,  giving 
Tom  the  paper  to  read  in  the  meanwhile.  When  he  returned, 
equipped  for  walking,  he  found  Tom  in  a  brown  study,  with 
the  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Dreaming,  Tom  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pinch.   "  No.     I  have  been  looking  over 


506  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  advertising  sheet,  thinking  there  might  be  something  in  it 
which  would  be  likely  to  suit  me.  But,  as  I  often  think,  the 
strange  thing  seems  to  be  that  nobody  is  suited.  Here  are 
all  kinds  of  employers  wanting  all  sorts  of  servants,  and  all 
sorts  of  servants  wanting  all  kinds  of  employers,  and  they 
never  seem  to  come  together.  Here  is  a  gentleman  in  a 
public  office  in  a  position  of  temporary  difficulty,  who  wants 
to  borrow  five  hundred  pounds;  and  in  the  very  next  adver- 
tisement here  is  another  gentleman  who  has  got  exactly  that 
sum  to  lend.  But  he'll  never  lend  it  to  him,  John,  you'll 
find  !  Here  is  a  lady  possessing  a  moderate  independence, 
who  wants  to  board  and  lodge  with  a  quiet,  cheerful  family; 
and  here  is  a  family  describing  themselves  in  those  very 
words,  '  a  quiet,  cheerful  family,'  who  want  exactly  such  a 
lady  to  come  and  live  with  them.  But  she'll  never  go,  John. 
Neither  do  any  of  these  single  gentlemen  who  want  an  airy 
bed-room,  with  the  occasional  use  of  a  parlor,  ever  appear  to 
come  to  terms  with  these  other  people  who  live  in  a  rural 
situation,  remarkable  for  its  bracing  atmosphere,  within  five 
minutes'  walk  of  the  Royal  Exchange.  Even  those  letters 
of  the  alphabet,  who  are  always  running  away  from  their 
friends  and  being  entreated  at  the  tops  of  columns  to  come 
back,  never  do  come  back,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  num- 
ber of  times  they  are  asked  to  do  it  and  don't.  It  really 
seems,"  said  Tom,  relinquishing  the  paper,  with  a  thoughtful 
sigh,  '*  as  if  people  had  the  same  gratification  in  printing 
their  complaints  as  in  making  them  known  by  word  of 
mouth;  as  if  they  found  it  a  comfort  and  consolation  to  pro- 
claim '  I  want  such  and  such  a  thing  and  I  can't  get  it,  and  I 
don't  expect  I  ever  shall  !  *  " 

JohnWestlock  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  they  went  out 
together.  So  many  years  had  passed  since  Tom  was  last  in 
London,  and  he  had  known  so  little  of  it  then,  that  his  inter- 
est in  all  he  saw  was  very  great.  He  was  particularly  anxious 
among  other  notorious  localities,  to  have  those  streets  pointed 
out  to  him  which  were  appropriated  to  the  slaughter  of  coun- 
trymen; and  was  quite  disappointed  to  find,  after  half-an- 
hour's  walking,  that  he  hadn't  had  his  pocket  picked.  But 
on  John  Westlock  inventing  a  pickpocket  for  his  gratifica- 
tion, and  pointing  out  a  highly  respectable  stranger  as  one  of 
that  fraternity,  he  was  much  delighted. 

His  friend  accompanied  him  to  within  a  short  distance  of 
Camberwell,  and  having  put  him  beyond  the  possibility  of 
mistaking  the  wealthy  brass-and-copper  founder's,  left  him  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  567 

make  his  visit.  Arriving  before  the  great  bell-handle,  Tom 
gave  it  a  gentle  pull.     The  porter  appeared. 

'*  Pray  does  Miss  Pinch  live  here  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  governess  here,"  replied  the  porter. 

At  the  same  time  he  looked  at  Tom  from  head  to  foot,  as 
if  he  would  have  said,  "  You  are  a  nice  msin,  you  are;  where 
did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  It's  the  same  young  lady,"  said  Tom.  "  It's  quite  right. 
Is  she  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  rejoined  the  porter. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  have  the  goodness  to  ascertain?" 
said  Tom.  He  had  quite  a  delicacy  in  offering  the  sugges- 
tion, for  the  possibility  of  such  a  step  did  not  appear  to  pre- 
sent itself  to  the  porter's  mind  at  all. 

The  fact  was  that  the  porter  in  answering  the  gate  bell 
had,  according  to  usage,  rung  the  house-bell  (for  it  is  as  well 
to  do  these  things  in  the  baronial  style  while  you  are  about 
it),  and  that  there  the  functions  of  his  office  had  ceased. 
Being  hired  to  open  and  shut  the  gate,  and  not  to  explain 
himself  to  strangers,  he  left  this  little  incident  to  be  devel- 
oped by  the  footman  with  the  tags,  who,  at  this  juncture, 
called  out  from  the  door  steps  : 

"  Hello,  there  !  wot  are  you  up  to  ?  This  way,  young 
man  !  " 

'*  Oh  ! "  said  Tom,  hurrying  toward  him,  ''I  didn't 
observe  that  there  was  anv  body  else.  Pray  is  Miss  Pinch  at 
home?" 

"  She's  in,"  replied  the  footman.  As  much  as  to  say  to 
Tom:  "  But  if  you  think  she  has  any  thing  to  do  with  the 
proprietorship  of  this  place,  you  had  better  abandon  that 
idea." 

''  I  wish  to  see  her,  if  you  please,"  said  Tom. 

The  footman,  being  a  lively  young  man,  happened  to  have 
his  attention  caught  at  that  moment  by  the  flight  of  a 
pigeon,  in  which  he  took  so  warm  an  interest,  that  his  gaze 
was  riveted  on  the  bird  until  it  was  quite  out  of  sight. 
He  then  invited  Tom  to  come  in  and  showed  him  into  a 
parlor, 

"  Hany  neem  ?  "  said  the  young  man,  pausing  languidly  at 
the  door. 

It  was  a  good  thought  ;  because  without  providing  the 
stranger,  in  case  he  should  happen  to  be  of  a  warm  temper, 
with  a  sufficient  excuse  for  knocking  him  down,  it  implied 
this  young  man's  estimate  of  his  quality,    and   relieved   his 


568  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

breast  of  the  oppressive  burden  of  rating  him  in  secret  as  a 
nameless  and  obscure  individual. 

"  Say  her  brother,  if  you  please,"  said  Tom. 

*'  Mother  ?  "  drawled  the  footman. 

"  Brother,"  repeated  Tom,  slightly  raising  his  voice. 
"  And  if  you  will  say,  in  the  first  instance,  a  gentleman,  and 
then  say  her  brother,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you,  as  she  does 
not  expect  me,  or  know  I  am  in  London,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
startle  her." 

The  young  man's  interest  in  Tom's  observations  had 
ceased  long  before  this  time,  but  he  kindly  waited  until  now; 
when,  shutting  the  door,  he  withdrew. 

^'  Dear  me  !  "  said  Tom.  "  This  is  very  disrespectful  and 
uncivil  behavior.  I  hope  these  are  new  servants  here,  -and 
that  Ruth  is  very  differently  treated." 

His  cogitations  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  voices  in 
the  adjoining  room.  They  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  high 
dispute,  or  in  indignant  reprimand  of  some  offender  ;  and 
gathering  strength  occasionally,  broke  out  into  a  perfect  whirl- 
wind. It  was  in  one  of  these  gusts,  as  it  appeared  to  Tom, 
that  the  footman  announced  him;  for  an  abrupt  and  unnatural 
calm  took  place,  and  then  a  dead  silence.  He  was  stand- 
ing before  the  window  wondering  what  domestic  quarrel 
might  have  caused  these  sounds,  and  hoping  Ruth  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it,  when  the  door  opened,  and  his  sister  ran 
into  his  arms. 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul  !  "  said  Tom,  looking  at  her  with 
great  pride,  when  they  had  tenderly  embraced  each  other, 
"  how  altered  you  are,  Ruth  !  I  should  scarcely  have  known 
you,  my  love,  if  I  had  seen  you  anywhere  else,  I  declare  ! 
You  are  so  improved,"  said  Tom,  with  inexpressible  delight: 
"you  are  so  womanly;  you  are  so — positively,  you  know,  you 
are  so  handsome  !  " 

"  lijou  think  so,  Tom — " 

"Oh,  but  every  body  must  think  so,  you  know,"  said  Tom, 
gently  smoothing  down  her  hair.  It's  matter  of  fact  ;  not 
opinion.  But  what's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Tom,  looking  at  lier 
more  intently,  "  how  flushed  you  are  !  and  you  have  been 
crying." 

'*  No,  I  have  not,  Tom." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  her  brother  stoutly.  "  That's  a  story. 
Don't  tell  me  !  I  know  better.  What  is  it,  dear  ?  I'm  not 
with  Mr.  Pecksniff  now;  I  am  going  to  try  and  settle  myself 
in  London;  and  if  you  are  not  happy  here  (as  1  very  mucli 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  569 

fear  you  are  not,  for  I  begin  to  think  you  have  been  deceiv- 
ing me  with  the  kindest  and  most  affectionate  intention)  you 
shall  not  remain  here." 

Oh  !  Tom's  blood  was  rising;  mind  that  !  Perhaps  the 
boar's  head  had  something  to  do  with  it,  but  certainly  the 
footman  had.  So  had  the  sight  of  his  pretty  sister — a  great 
deal  to  do  with  it.  Tom  could  bear  a  good  deal  himself,  but 
he  was  proud  of  her,  and  pride  is  a  sensitive  thing.  He  be- 
gan to  think,  "  there  are  more  Pecksniffs  than  one  perhaps," 
and  by  all  the  pins  and  needles  that  run  up  and  down  in  an- 
gry veins,  Tom  was  in  a  most  unusual  tingle  all  at  once  ! 

*MVe  will  talk  about  it,  Tom,"  said  Ruth,  giving  him  an- 
other kiss  to  pacify  him.    ''  I  am  afraid  I  can  not  stay  here." 

*'  Can  not !"  replied  Tom.  "  Why  then,  you  shall  not,  my 
love  !  Heyday  !  You  are  not  an  object  of  charity  !  Upon 
my  word  !  " 

Tom  was  stopped  in  these  exclamations  by  the  footman, 
who  brought  a  message  from  his  master,  importing  that  he 
wished  to  speak  with  him  before  he  went,  and  with  Miss 
Pinch  also. 

"  Show  the  way,"  said  Tom.  "  I'll  wait  upon  him  at 
once." 

Accordingly  they  entered  the  adjoining  room  from  which 
the  noise  of  altercation  had  proceeded;  and  there  they  found 
a  middle-aged  gentleman,  with  a  pompous  voice  and  manner, 
and  a  middle-aged  lady,  with  what  may  be  termed  an  excise- 
able  face,  or  one  in  which  starch  and  vinegar  were  decidedly 
employed.  There  was  likewise  present  that  eldest  pupil  of 
Miss  Pinch,  whom  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  a  previous  occasion,  had 
called  a  syrup,  and  who  was  now  weeping  and  sobbing  spite- 
fully. 

*''My  brother,  sir,"  said  Ruth  Pinch,  timidly  presenting 
Tom. 

"Oh  !"  cried  the  gentleman,  surveying  Tom  attentively. 
"  You  really  are  Miss  Pinch's  brother,  I  presume  ?  You  Avill 
excuse  my  asking.     I  don't  observe  any  resemblance." 

"  Miss  Pinch  has  a  brother,  I  know,"  observed  the  lady. 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  always  talking  about  her  brother,  when 
she  ought  to  be  engaged  upon  my  education,"  sobbed  the 
pupil. 

**  Sophia  !  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  observed  the  gentleman. 
"Si*:  down,  if  you  please,"  addressing  Tom. 

Tom  sat  down,  looking  from  one  face  to  another,  in  mute 
surprise. 


570  MARTJN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Remain  here,  if  you  please,  Miss  Pinch,"  pursued  the 
gentleman,  looking  slightly  over  his  shoulder. 

Tom  interrupted  him  here,  by  rising  to  place  a  chair  for 
his  sister.     Having  done  which  he  sat  down  again. 

"  I  am  glad  you  chance  to  have  called  to  see  your  sister, 
to-day,  sir,"  resumed  the  brass-and-copper  founder.  *'  For 
although  I  do  not  approve,  as  a  principle,  o^f  any  young  per- 
son engaged  in  my  family,  in  the  capacity  of  a  governess, 
receiving  visitors,  it  happens  in  this  case  to  be  well-timed. 
I  am  sorry  to  inform  you  that  we  are  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
your  sister." 

"  We  are  very  much  ^/j-satisfied  with  her,"  observed  the 
lady. 

"  I'd  never  say  another  lesson  to  Miss  Pinch  if  I  was  to 
be  beat  to  death  for  it  !  "  sobbed  the  pupil. 

"  Sophia  !  "  cried  her  father.     *'  Hold  your  tongue  !  " 

''  Will  you  allow  me  to  inquire  what  your  ground  of  dis- 
satisfaction is  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman,  *'  I  will.  I  don't  recognize  it 
as  a  right  ;  but  I  will.  Your  sister  has  not  the  slightest 
innate  power  of  commanding  respect.  It  has  been  a  constant 
source  of  difference  between  us.  Although  she  has  been  in 
this  family  for  some  time,  and  although  the  young  lady  who 
is  now  present,  has  almost,  as  it  were,  grown  up  under  her 
tuition,  that  young  lady  has  no  respect  for  her.  Miss  Pinch 
has  been  perfectly  unable  to  command  my  daughter's  respect, 
or  to  win  my  daughter's  confidence.  Now,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, allowing  the  palm  of  his  hand  to  fall  gravely  down  upon 
the  table  :  '*  I  maintain  that  there  is  something  radically 
wrong  in  that !  You,  as  her  brother,  may  be  disposed  to 
deny  it — " 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  I  am  not  at  all 
disposed  to  deny  it.  I  am  sure  that  there  is  something  radi- 
cally wrong — radically  monstrous — in  that." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  "  cried  the  gentleman,  looking  round 
the  room  with  dignity,  "  what  do  I  find  to  be  the  case  !  what 
results  obtrude  themselves  upon  me  as  flowing  from  this  weak- 
ness of  character  on  the  part  of  Miss  Pinch  !  What  are  my 
feelings  as  a  father,  when,  after  my  desire  (repeatedly 
expressed  to  Miss  Pinch,  as  I  think  she  will  not  venture  to 
deny)  that  my  daughter  should  be  choice  in  her  expressions, 
genteel  in  her  deportment,  as  becomes  her  station  in  life,  and 
politely  distant  to  her  inferiors  in  society,  I  find  her,  only  this 
very  morning,  addressing  Miss  Pinch  herself  as  a  be^'gar  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLKWIT.  571 

"  A  beggarly  thing,"  observed  the  lady,  m  correction. 

'*  Which  is  worse,"  said  the  gentleman,  triumphantly  ; 
"  which  is  worse.  A  beggarly  thing.  A  low,  coarse,  despi- 
cable expression  !  " 

*'  Most  despicable,"  cried  Tom.  "  I  am  glad  to  find  that 
there  is  a  just  appreciation  of  it  here." 

"So just,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  lowering  his  voice  to 
be  the  more  impressive.  "  So  just,  that,  but  for  my  knowing 
Miss  Pinch  to  be  an  unprotected  young  person,  an  orphan, 
and  without  friends,  I  would,  as  I  assured  Miss  Pinch,  upon 
my  veracity  and  personal  character,  a  few  minutes  ago,  1 
would  have  severed  the  connection  between  us  at  that 
moment  and  from  that  time." 

"  Bless  my  soul,  sir!"  cried  Tom,  arising  from  his  seat,  for 
he  was  now  unable  to  contain  himself  any  longer  !  "  don't 
allow  such  considerations  as  those  to  influence  you,  pray. 
They  don't  exist,  sir.  She  is  not  unprotected.  She  is  ready 
to  depart  this  instant.     Ruth,  my  dear,  get  your  bonnet  on  !  " 

"  Oh,  a  pretty  family  !  "  cried  the  lady.  "  Oh,  he's  her 
brother  !     There's  no  doubt  about  that  '  " 

"As  little  doubt,  madam,"  said  Tom,  "as  that  the  young 
lady  yonder  is  the  child  of  your  teaching,  and  not  my  sister's. 
Ruth,  my  dear,  get  your  bonnet  on  !  " 

"  When  you  say,  young  man,"  interposed  the  brass-and- 
copper  founder,  haughtily,  "  with  that  impertinence  which  is 
natural  to  you,  and  which  I  therefore  do  not  condescend  to 
notice  further,  that  the  young  lady,  my  eldest  daughter,  has 
been  educated  by  any  one  but  Miss  Pinch,  you — I  needn't 
proceed.  You  comprehend  me  fully.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
are  used  to  it." 

*'  Sir  !  "  cried  Tom,  after  regarding  him  in  silence  for  some 
little  time.  "  If  you  do  not  understand  what  I  mean,  I  will 
tell  you.  If  you  do  understand  what  I  mean,  I  beg  you  not 
to  repeat  that  mode  of  expressing  yourself  in  answer  to  it.  My 
meaning  is,  that  no  man  can  expect  his  children  to  respect 
what  he  degrades." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  gentleman.  **  Cant  !  cant  ! 
The  common  cant  !  " 

"The  common  story,  sir  !  "  said  Tom  ;  "the  story  of  a 
common  mind.  Your  governess  can  not  win  the  confidence 
and  respect  of  your  children,  forsooth  !  Let  her  begin  by 
winning  yours,  and  see  what  happens  then." 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  getting  her  bonnet  on,  I  trust,  my  dear  !  " 
said  the  gentleman. 


572  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  I  trust  she  is,"  said  Tom,  forestalling  the  reply.  "  T 
have  no  doubt  she  is.  In  the  meantime  I  address  myself  lo 
you,  sir.  You  made  your  statement  to  me,  sir  ;  you  required 
to  see  me  for  that  purpose  ;  and  I  have  a  right  to  answer  it. 
I  am  not  loud  or  turbulent,"  said  Tom,  which  was  quite  true, 
"  though  I  can  scarcely  say  as  much  for  you,  in  your  manner 
of  addressing  yourself  to  me.  And  I  wish,  on  my  sister's 
behalf,  to  state  the  simple  truth." 

"  You  may  state  any  thing  you  like,  young  man,"  returned 
the  gentleman,  affecting  to  yawn.  "  My  dear,  Miss  Pinch's 
money." 

"  When  you  tell  me,"  resumed  Tom,  who  was  not  the  less 
indignant  for  keeping  himself  quiet,  *'  that  my  sister  has  no 
innate  power  of  commanding  the  respect  of  your  children, 
I  must  tell  you  it  is  not  so  ;  and  that  she  has.  She  is  as  well 
bred,  as  well  taught,  as  well  qualified  by  nature  to  command 
respect,  as  any  hirer  of  a  governess  you  know.  But  when 
you  place  her  at  a  disadvantage  in  reference  to  every  servant 
in  your  house,  how  can  you  suppose,  if  you  have  the  gift  of 
common  sense,  that  she  is  not  in  a  tenfold  worse  position  in 
reference  to  your  daughters  ?  " 

''  Pretty  well  !  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  the  gentle- 
man, *'  that  is  pretty  well !  " 

'*  It  is  very  ill,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  It  is  very  bad  and  mean 
and  wrong  and  cruel.  Respect  !  I  believe  young  people 
are  quick  enough  to  observe  and  imitate  ;  and  why  or  how 
should  they  respect  whom  no  one  else  respects,  and  every 
body  slights?  And  very  partial  they  must  grow — oh,  very 
partial ! — to  their  studies,  when  they  see  to  what  a  pass  pro- 
ficiency in  those  same  tasks  has  brought  their  governess  ! 
Respect !  Put  any  thing  the  most  deserving  of  respect  be- 
fore your  daughters  in  the  light  in  which  you  place  her,  and 
you  will  bring  it  down  as  low,  no  matter  what  it  is  !  " 

"  You  speak  with  extreme  impertinence,  young  man,"  ob- 
served the  gentleman. 

"  I  speak  without  passion,  but  with  extreme  indignation 
and  contempt  for  such  a  course  of  treatment,  and  for  all  who 
practice  it,"  said  Tom.  ''Why,  how  can  you,  as  an  honest 
gentleman,  profess  displeasure  or  surprise  at  your  daughter 
telling  my  sister  she  is  something  beggarly  and  humble 
when  you  are  forever  telling  her  the  same  thing  yourself  in 
fifty  plain,  out-speaking  ways,  though  not  in  words  ;  and  when 
your  very  porter  and  footman  make  the  same  delicate  an- 
nouncement  to  all  comers  ?     As  to  your  suspicion  and  dis- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  573 

trust  of  her,  even  of  her  word,  if  she  is  not  above  their 
reach,  you  have  no  right  to  employ  her." 

"  No  right !  "  cried  the  brass-and-copper  founder. 

"  Distinctly  not,"  Tom  answered.  ''  If  you  imagine  that 
the  payment  of  an  annual  sum  of  money  gives  it  to  you,  you 
immensely  exaggerate  its  power  and  value.  Your  money  is 
the  least  part  of  your  bargain  in  such  a  case.  You  may  be 
punctual  in  that  to  half  a  second  on  the  clock,  and  yet  be 
bankrupt.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  said  Tom,  much 
flushed  and  flustered,  now  that  it  was  over,  *'  except  to  crave 
permission  to  stand  in  your  garden  until  my  sister  is  ready." 

Not  waiting  to  obtain  it,  Tom  walked  out. 

Before  he  had  well  begun  to  cool,  his  sister  joined  him. 
She  was  crying  ;  and  Tom  could  not  bear  that  any  one 
about  the  house  would  see  her  doing  that. 

"  They  will  think  you  are  sorry  to  go,"  said  Tom.  "  You 
are  not  sorry  to  go  ? " 

^'  No,  Tom,  no.  I  have  been  anxious  to  go  for  a  very 
long  time." 

"  Very  well,  then  !     Don't  cry  I  "  said  Tom. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  ior  you,  dear,"  sobbed  Tom's  sister. 

"  But  you  ought  to  be  glad  on  my  account,"  said  Tom.  "I 
shall  be  twice  as  happy  with  you  for  a  companion.  Hold  up 
your  head.  There  !  Now  we  go  out  as  we  ought.  Not 
blustering,  you  know,  but  firm  and  confident  in  ourselves." 

The  idea  of  Tom  and  his  sister  blustering,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, was  a  splendid  absurdity.  But  Tom  v/as  very  far 
from  feeling  it  to  be  so,  in  his  excitement ;  and  passed  out 
at  the  gate  with  such  severe  determination  written  in  his 
face  that  the  porter  hardly  knew  him  again. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  walked  some  short  distance,  and 
Tom  found  himself  getting  cooler  and  more  collected,  that 
he  was  quite  restored  to  himself  by  an  inquiry  from  his  sister, 
who  said  in  her  pleasant  little  voice  : 

*'  Where  are  we  going,  Tom  ?  " 

**  Dear  me  !  "  said  Tom,  stopping,  *'  I  don't  know." 

"Don't  you — don't  you  live  anywhere,  dear?"  asked 
Tom's  sister,  looking  vv^istfully  in  his  face. 

"No,"  said  Tom.  "  Not  at  present.  Not  exactly.  I  only 
arrived  this  morning.     We  must  have  some  lodgings." 

He  didn't  tell  her  that  he  had  been  going  to  stay  with  his 
friend  John,  and  could  on  no  account  think  of  billeting  two 
inmates  upon  him,  of  whom  one  was  a  young  lady  ;  for  he 
knew  that  would  make  lier  uncomfortable,  and  would   cause 


574  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

her  to  regard  herself  as  being  an  inconvenience  to  him. 
Neither  did  he  Hke  to  leave  her  anywhere  while  he  called 
on  John,  and  told  him  of  this  change  in  his  arrangements  ; 
for  he  was  delicate  in  seeming  to  encroach  upon  the  gener- 
ous and  hospitable  nature  of  his  friend.  Therefore  he  said 
again,  "  We  must  have  some  lodgings,  of  course  ;  "  and  said 
it  as  stoutly  as  if  he  had  been  a  perfect  directory  and  guide- 
book to  all  the  lodgings  in  London. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  and  look  for  them  ? "  said  Tom. 
"  What  do  you  think  ?  " 

Tom's  sister  was  not  much  wiser  on  such  a  topic  than  he 
was.  So  she  squeezed  her  little  purse  into  his  coat-pocket, 
and  folding  the  little  hand  with  which  she  did  so  on  the 
other  little  hand  with  which  she  clasped  his  arm,  said 
nothing. 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  cheap  neighborhood,"  said  Tom,  "  and 
not  too  far  from  London.  Let  me  see.  Should  you  think 
Islington  a  good  place  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  it  was  an  excellent  place,  Tom." 

"  It  used  to  be  called  Merry  Islington,  once  upon  a  time," 
said  Tom.  *'  Perhaps  it's  merry  now  ;  if  so,  it's  all  the  bet- 
ter.    Eh  ? " 

''  If  it's  not  too  dear,"  said  Tom's  sister. 

"  Of  course,  if  it's  not  too  dear,"  assented  Tom.  **  Well, 
where  is  Islington  ?  We  can't  do  better  than  go  there,  I 
should  think.     Let's  go." 

Tom's  sister  would  have  gone  anywhere  with  him  ;  so 
they  walked  off,  arm  in  arm,  as  comfortably  as  possible. 
Finding,  presently,  that  Islington  was  not  in  that  neighbor- 
hood,  Tom  made  inquiries  respecting  a  public  conveyance 
thither,  which  they  soon  obtained.  As  they  rode  along  they 
were  full  of  conversation  indeed,  Tom  relating  what  had 
happened  to  him,  and  Tom's  sister  relating  what  had  hap- 
pened to  her,  and  both  finding  a  great  deal  more  to  say  than 
they  had  time  to  say  it  in  ;  for  they  had  only  just  begun  to 
talk,  in  comparison  with  what  they  had  to  tell  each  other, 
when  they  reached  their  journey's  end. 

"  Now,"  said  Tom,  *'we  must  first  look  out  for  some  very 
unpretending  streets,  and  then  look  out  for  bills  in  the 
windows." 

So  they  walked  off  again  quite  as  happily  as  if  they  had 
just  stepped'  out  of  a  snug  little  house  of  their  own,  to  look 
for  lodgings  on  account  of  somebody  else.  Tom's  simpli- 
city was  unabated,  Heaven  knows  ;  but  now  that  he  had 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  575 

somebody  to  rely  upon  him,  he  was  stimulated  to  rely  a  little 
more  upon  himself  ;  and  was,  in  his  own  opinion,  quite  a 
desperate  fellow. 

After  roaming  up  and  down  for  hours,  looking  at  some 
scores  of  lodgings,  they  began  to  find  it  rather  fatiguing,  es- 
pecially as  they  saw  none  which  were  at  all  adapted  to  their 
purpose.  At  length,  however,  in  a  singularly  little  old- 
fashioned  house,  up  a  blind  street,  they  discovered  two  small 
bed-rooms  and  a  triangular  parlor,  which  promised  to  suit 
them  well  enough.  Their  desiring  to  take  possession  imme- 
diately was  a  suspicious  circumstance,  but  even  this  was  sur- 
mounted by  the  payment  of  their  first  week's  rent,  and  a 
reference  to  John  Westlock,  Esquire,  Furnival's  Inn,  High 
Holborn. 

Ah  !  It  was  a  goodly  sight,  when  this  important  point 
was  settled,  to  behold  Tom  and  his  sister  trotting  round  to 
the  baker's,  and  the  butcher's,  and  the  grocer's  with  a  kind 
of  dreadful  delight  in  the  unaccustomed  cares  of  housekeep- 
ing ;  taking  secret  counsel  together  as  they  gave  their  small 
orders,  and  distracted  by  the  least  suggestion  on  the  part  of 
the  shop-keeper  !  When  they  got  back  to  the  triangular 
parlor,  and  Tom's  sister,  bustling  to  and  fro,  busy  about  a 
thousand  pleasant  nothings,  stopped  every  now  and  then  to 
give  old  Tom  a  kiss,  or  smile  upon  him,  Tom  rubbed  his 
hands  as  if  all  Islington  were  his. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  now,  though,  and  high  time 
for  Tom  to  keep  his  appointment.  So,  after  agreeing  with 
his  sister  that  in  consideration  of  not  having  dined,  they 
would  venture  on  the  extravagance  of  chops  for  supper,  at 
nine,  he  walked  out  again  to  narrate  these  marvelous  occur- 
rences to  John. 

''  I  am  quite  a  family  man  all  at  once,"  thought  Tom.  "  If 
I  can  only  get  something  to  do,  how  comfortable  Ruth  and 
I  may  be  !  Ah  !  that  if  !  But  it's  of  no  use  to  despond. 
I  can  but  do  that,  when  I  have  tried  every  thing  and  failed  ; 
and  even  then  it  won't  serve  me  much.  Upon  my  word," 
thought  Tom,  quickening  his  pace,  **  I  don't  know  what 
John  will  think  has  become  of  me.  He'll  begin  to  be  afraid 
I  have  strayed  into  one  of  those  streets  where  the  country- 
men are  murdered  ;  and  that  I've  been  made  meat  pies  of, 
or  some  such  horrible  thing." 


576  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

TOM  PINCH,  GOING  ASTRAY,  FINDS  THAT  HE  IS  NOT  THE 
ONLY  PERSON  IN  THAT  PREDICAMENT.  HE  RETALIATES 
UPON    A    FALLEN    FOE. 

Tom's  evil  genius  did  not  lead  him  into  the  dens  of  any 
of  those  preparers  of  cannibalic  pastry,  who  are  represented 
in  many  standard  country  legends,  as  doing  a  lively  retail 
business  in  the  metropolis  ;  nor  did  it  mark  him  out  as  the 
prey  of  ring-droppers,  pea  and  thimble-riggers,  duffers, 
touters,  or  any  of  those  bloodless  sharpers,  who  are,  perhaps, 
a  little  better  known  to  the  police.  He  feU  into  conversa- 
tion with  no  gentleman,  who  took  him  into  a  public-house, 
where  there  happened  to  be  another  gentleman,  who  swore 
he  had  more  money  than  any  gentleman,  and  very  soon 
proved  he  had  more  money  than  one  gentleman,  by  taking 
his  away  from  him  ;  neither  did  he  fall  into  any  other  of  the 
numerous  man-traps  which  are  set  up,  without  notice,  in  the 
public  grounds  of  this  city.  But  he  lost  his  way.  He  very 
soon  did  that ;  and  in  trying  to  find  it  again,  he  lost  it  more 
and  more. 

Now,  Tom,  in  his  guileless  distrust  of  London,  thought 
himself  very  knowing  in  coming  to  the  determination  that 
he  would  not  ask  to  be  directed  to  Furnival's  Inn,  if  he 
€ould  help  it ;  unless,  indeed,  he  should  happen  to  find  him- 
self near  the  mint,  or  the  bank  of  England  ;  in  which  case,  he 
would  step  in,  and  ask  a  civil  question  or  two,  confiding  in 
the  perfect  respectability  of  the  concern.  So,  on  he  went, 
looking  up  all  the  streets  he  came  near,  and  going  up  half  of 
them  ;  and  thus,  by  dint  of  not  being  true  to  Goswell  Street, 
and  filing  off  into  Aldermanbury,  and  bewildering  himself  in 
Barbican,  and  being  constant  to  the  wrong  point  of  the  com- 
pass in  London  Wall,  and  then  getting  himself  crosswise 
into  Thames  Street  by  an  instinct  that  would  have  been 
marvelous  if  he  had  had  the  least  desire  or  reason  to  go 
there,  he  found  himself,  at  last,  hard  by  the  monument. 

The  man  in  the  monument  was  quite  as  mysterious  a 
being  to  Tom  as  the  man  in  the  moon.  It  immediately 
occurred  to  him  that  the  lonely  creature  who  held  himself 
aloof  from  all  mankind  in  that  pillar  like  some  old  hermit, 
was  the  very  man  of  whom  to  ask  his  way.  Cold,  he  might 
be  ;  little  sympathy  he  had,  perhaps,  with  human  passion — 


MARTIN  CHUZ2LEW1T.  577 

the  column  seemed  too  tall  for  that  ;  but  if  truth  didn't  live 
m  the  base  of  the  monument,  notwithstanding  Pope's  coup- 
let about  the  outside  of  it,  where  in  London  (Tom  thought) 
was  she  likely  to  be  found  ! 

Coming  close  below  the  pillar,  it  was  a  great  encourage- 
ment to  Tom  to  find  that  the  man  in  the  monument  had 
simple  tastes  ;  that  stony  and  artificial  as  his  residence  was, 
he  still  preserved  some  rustic  recollections  ;  that  he  liked 
plants,  hung  up  bird-cages,  was  not  wholly  cut  off  from  fresh 
groundsel,  and  kept  young  trees  in  tubs.  The  man  in  the 
monument,  himself,  was  sitting  outside  the  door — his  own 
door  :  the  monument-door  :  v/hat  a  grand  idea  ! — and  was 
actually  yawning,  as  if  there  were  no  monument  to  stop  his 
mouth,  and  give  him  a  perpetual  interest  in  his  own  existence. 

Tom  was  advancing  toward  this  remarkable  creature,  to 
inquire  the  way  to  Furnival's  Inn,  when  two  people  came  to 
see  the  monument.  They  were  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  ; 
and  the  gentleman  said,  "  How  much  a-piece  ? " 

The  man  in  the  monument  replied,  "  A  Tanner." 

It  seemed  a  low  expression,  compared  with  the  monu- 
ment. 

The  gentleman  put  a  shilling  into  his  hand,  and  the  man 
in  the  monument  opened  a  dark  little  door.  When  the  gen- 
tleman and  lady  had  passed  out  of  view,  he  shut  it  again, 
and  came  slowly  back  to  his  chair. 

He  sat  down  and  laughed. 

"  They  don't  know  what  a  many  steps  there  is  !  "  he  said. 
"  It's  worth  twice  the  money  to  stop  here.     Oh,  my  eye  !  " 

The  man  in  the  monument  was  a  cynic  ;  a  worldly  man  ! 
Tom  couldn't  ask  his  way  of  him.  He  was  prepared  to  put 
no  confidence  in  any  thing  he  said. 

''  My  gracious  !  "  cried  a  well-known  voice  behind  Mr. 
Pinch.     "  Why,  to  be  sure  it  is  !  " 

At  the  same  time  he  was  poked  in  the  back  by  a  parasol. 
Turning  round  to  inquire  into  this  salute,  he  beheld  the 
eldest  daughter  of  his  late  patron, 

''  Miss  Pecksniff  !  "  said  Tom. 

*^  Why,  my  goodness,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  cried  Cherry.  "  What 
are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I  have  rather  wandered  from  my  way,"  said  Tom.    "  I — " 

"  I  hope  you  have  run  away,"  said  Charity.  "  It  would  be 
quite  spirited  and  proper  if  you  had,  when  my  papa  so  far 
forgets  himself." 

"  I  have  left  him,"  returned  Tom.     *'  But  it  was  perfectly 


57^  MARTIN  CHLJZZLEWIT. 

understood  on  both  sides.  It  was  not  done  clandes- 
tinely. ' 

"  Is  he  married? "  asked  Cherry,  with  a  spasmodic  shake  of 
her  chin. 

*'  No,  not  yet,"  said  Tom,  coloring  ;  ''  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  don't  think  he  is  likely  to  be,  if — if  Miss  Graham  is  the 
object  of  his  passion." 

"  Tcha,  Mr.  Pinch  !  '^  cried  Charity,  with  sharp  impa- 
tience, *'  you're  very  easily  deceived.  You  don't  know  the 
arts  of  whieh  such  a  creature  is  capable.  Oh  !  it's  a  wicked 
world." 

*' You  are  not  married  ?"  Tom  hinted,  to  divert  the  con- 
versation. 

"  N — no  !  "  said  Cherry,  tracing  out  one  particular  paving- 
stone  in  Monument  Yard  with  the  end  of  her  parasol.  ''  I 
— but  really  it's  quite  impossible  to  explain.  Won't  you 
walk  in?" 

"  You  live  here,  then  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  pointing  with  her  parasol 
to  Todgers's  ;  ''I  reside  with  this  lady,  at  present.'' 

The  great  stress  on  the  two  last  words  suggested  to  Tom 
that  he  was  expected  to  say  something  in  reference  to  them. 
So  he  said  : 

"  Only  at  present !     Are  you  going  home   again,  soon  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Pinch,"  returned  Charity.  "  No,  thank  you. 
No  !  A  mother-in-law  who  is  younger  than — I  mean  to  say, 
who  is  as  nearly  as  possible  about  the  same  age  as  one's  self, 
would  not  quite  suit  my  spirit.  Not  quite  !  "  said  Cherry 
with  a  spiteful  shiver. 

"  I  thought  from  your  saying  at  present  " — Tom  observed. 

'*  Really  upon  my  word  !  I  had  no  idea  you  would  press 
me  so  very  closely  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Charity, 
blushing,  "  or  I  should  not  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  allude 
to — Oh  really  ! — won't  you  walk  in  ?  " 

Tom  mentioned,  to  excuse  himself,  that  he  had  an  appoint- 
ment in  Furnival's  Inn,  and  that  coming  from  Islington  he 
had  taken  a  few  wrong  turnings,  and  arrived  at  the  monu- 
ment instead.  Miss  Pecksniff  simpered  very  much  when  he 
asked  her  if  she  knew  the  way  to  Furnival's  Inn,  and  at 
length  found  courage  to  reply  : 

**  A  gentleman  who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  or  at  least  who  is 
not  exactly  a  friend  so  much  as  a  sort  of  acquaintance — Oh, 
upon  my  word,  I  hardly  know  what  I  say,  Mr.  Pinch;  you 
mustn't  suppose  there  is  any  engc'.gement  between  us  ;  or  at 
least  if  there   is,  that   it  is  at  all  a  settled   thing  as  yet — is 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  579 

going  to  Furnivars  Inn  immediately,  I  believe  upon  a  little 
business,  and  I  am  sure  lie  would  be  very  glad  to  accompany 
you  so  as  to  prevent  your  going  wrong  again.  You  had 
better  walk  in.  You  will  very  likely  find  my  sister  Merry 
iiere,"  she  said,  with  a  curious  toss  of  her  head,  and  any 
thing  but  an  agreeable  smile." 

"  Then,  I  think,  I'll  endeavor  to  find  my  way  alone,"  said 
Tom  ;  "for  I  fear  she  would  not  be  very  glad  to  see  me. 
That  unfortunate  occurrence,  in  relation  to  which  you  and  I 
liad  some  amicable  words  together,  in  private,  is  not  likely 
to  have  impressed  her  with  any  friendly  feeling  toward  me. 
Though  it  really  was  not  my  fault." 

"  She  has  never  heard  of  that,  you  may  depend,"  said 
Cherry,  gathering  up  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  nodding 
at  Tom.  **  I  am  far  from  sure  that  she  would  bear  you  any 
mighty  ill  will  for  it,  if  she  had." 

"You  don't  say  so?"  cried  Tom,  who  was  really  con- 
cerned by  this  insinuation. 

"I  say  nothing,"  said  Charity.  "If  I  had  not  already 
known  what  shocking  things  treachery  and  deceit  are  in 
themselves,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  might  perhaps  have  learned  it  from 
the  success  they  meet  with — from  the  success  they  meet 
with."  Here  she  smiled  as  before.  "  But  I  don't  say'any 
thing.  On  the  contrary.  I  should  scorn  it.  You  had  better 
walk  in  !  " 

There  was  something  hidden  here,  which  piqued  Tom's 
interest  and  troubled  his  tender  heart.  When,  in  a  moment's 
irresolution,  he  looked  at  Charity,  he  could  not  but  observe 
a  struggle  in  her  face  between  a  sense  of  triumph  and  a  sense 
of  shame  ;  nor  could  he  but  remark  how,  meeting  even  his 
eyes,  which  she  cared  so  little  for,  she  turned  away  her  own, 
for  all  the  splenetic  defiance  in  her  manner. 

An  uneasy  thought  entered  Tom's  head  ;  a  shadowy  mis- 
giving that  the  altered  relations  between  himself  and  Peck- 
sniff were  somehow  to  involve  an  altered  knowledge  on  his 
part  of  other  people,  and  were  to  give  him  an  insight  into 
much  of  which  he  had  had  no  previous  suspicion.  And  yet 
he  put  no  definite  construction  upon  Charity's  proceedings. 
He  certainly  had  no  idea  tliat  as  he  had  been  the  audience 
and  spectator  of  her  mortification,  she  grasped  with  eager 
delight  at  any  opportunity  of  reproaching  her  sister  with  his 
presence  in  her  far  deeper  misery  ;  for  he  knew  nothing  of 
it,  and  only  pictured  that  sister  as  the  snme  giddy,  careless, 
trivial  creature  she  always  had  been,  with   the  same  slight 


58o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

estimation  of  himself  which  she  had  never  been  at  the  least 
pains  to  conceal.  In  short,  he  had  merely  a  confused 
impression  that  Miss  Pecksniff  was  not  quite  sisterly  or  kind; 
and  being  curious  to  set  it  right,  accompanied  her,  as  she 
desired. 

The  house-door  being  opened,  she  went  in  before  Tom, 
requesting  him  to  follow  her  ;  and  led  the  way  to  the  parlor 
door. 

**  Oh,  Merry  !  "  she  said,  looking  in,  "  I  am  so  glad  you 
have  not  gone  home.  Who  do  you  think  I  have  met  in  the 
street,  and  brought  to  see  you  !  Mr.  Pinch  !  There.  Now 
you  are  surprised,  I  am  sure  !  " 

Not  more  surprised  than  Tom  was,  when  he  looked  upon 
her.     Not  so  much.     Not  half  so  much. 

^*  Mr.  Pinch  has  left  papa,  my  dear,"  said  Cherry,  "  and 
his  prospects  are  quite  flourishing.  I  have  promised  that 
Augustus,  who  is  going  that  way,  shall  escort  him  to  the 
place  he  wants.     Augustus,  my  child,  where  are  you  t " 

With  these  words  Miss  Pecksniff  screamed  her  way  out  of 
the  parlor,  calling  on  Augustus  Moddle  to  appear  ;  and  left 
Tom  Pinch  alone  with  her  sister. 

If  she  had  always  been  his  kindest  friend  ;  if  she  had 
treated  him  through  all  his  servitude  with  such  considera- 
tion as  was  never  yet  received  by  struggling  man  ;  if  she  had 
lightened  every  moment  of  those  many  years,  and  had  ever 
spared  and  never  wounded  him  ;  his  honest  heart  could  not 
have  swelled  before  her  with  a  deeper  pity,  or  a  purer  free- 
dom from  all  base  remembrance  than  it  did  then. 

"  My  gracious  me  !  You  are  really  the  last  person  in  the 
world  I  should  have  thought  of  seeing,  I  am  sure  !  " 

Tom  was  sorry  to  hear  her  speaking  in  her  old  manner, 
lie  had  not  expected  that.  Yet  he  did  not  feel  it  a  contra- 
diction that  he  should  be  sorry  to  see  her  so  unlike  her  old 
self,  and  sorry  at  the  same  time  to  hear  her  speaking  in 
her  old  manner.     The  two  things  seemed  quite  natural. 

"  I  wonder  you  find  any  gratification  in  coming  to  see 
me.  I  can't  think  what  put  it  in  your  head.  I  never  had  much 
in  seeing  you.  There  was  no  love  lost  between  us,  Mr.  Pinch, 
at  any  time,  I  think." 

Her  bonnet  lay  beside  her  on  the  sofa,  and  she  was  very 
busy  with  the  ribbons  as  she  spoke.  Much  too  busy  to  be 
conscious  of  the  work  her  fingers  did. 

**  We  never  (juarreled,"  said  Tom.  Tom  was  right  in 
that,  for  one  person  can  no  more  tpiarrel  without  an  adver- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  581 

sary,  than  one  person  can  play  chess,  or  fight  a  duel.  "  I 
hoped  you  would  be  glad  to  shake  hands  with  an  old  friend. 
Don't  let  us  rake  up  by-gones,"  said  Tom.  "  If  I  ever 
offended  you,  forgive  me." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  ;  dropped  her  bonnet 
from  her  hands  ;  spread  them  before  her  altered  face  and 
burst  into  tears. 

''  Oh,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  she  said,  **  although  I  never  used  you 
well,  I  did  believe  your  nature  was  forgiving.  I  did  not  think 
you  could  be  cruel." 

She  spoke  as  little  like  her  old  self  now,  for  certain,  as 
Tom  could  possibly  have  wished.  But  she  seemed  to  be 
appealing  to  him  reproachfully,  and  he  did  not  understand 
her. 

*'  I  seldom  showed  it — never — I  know  that.  But  I  had 
that  belief  in  you,  that  if  I  had  been  asked  to  name  the  per- 
so.i  in  the  world  least  likely  to  retort  ui)on  me,  I  would  have 
named  you,  confidently." 

**  Would  have  named  me  !  "  Tom  repeated. 

**  Yes,"  she  said  with  energy,  *'  and  I  have  often  thought 
so." 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  Tom  sat  himself  upon  a  chair 
beside  her. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  said  Tom,  "  oh  can  you  think,  that 
what  I  said  just  now,  I  said  with  any  but  the  true  and  plain 
intention  which  my  words  piofessed  ?  I  mean  it,  in  the 
spirit  and  the  letter.  If  I  ever  offended  you,  forgive  me  ; 
I  may  have  done  so,  many  times.  You  never  injured  or 
offended  me.  How,  then,  could  I  possibly  retort,  if  even  I 
were  stern  and  bad  enough  to  wish  to  do  it  ! " 

After  a  little  while  she  thanked  him,  through  her  tears  and 
sobs,  and  told  him  she  had  never  been  at  once  so  sorry  and 
so  comforted,  since  she  left  home.  Still  she  wept  bitterly  ; 
and  it  was  the  greater  pain  to  Tom  to  see  her  weeping,  from 
her  standing  in  especial  need,  just  then,  of  sympathy  and 
tenderness. 

"  Come,  come  !  "  said  Tom,  ''  you  used  to  be  as  cheerful 
as  the  day  was  long." 

*'  Ah  !  used  !  "  she  cried,  in  such  a  tone  as  rent  Tom's 
heart. 

"  And  will  be  again,"  said  Tom. 

"  No,  never  more.  No,  never,  never  more.  If  you  should 
talk  with  old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  at  any  time,"  she  added  looking 
hurriedly  into  his  face — "  I  sometimes  thought  he  liked  you. 


5S2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

but  su})pressed  it — will  you  promise  me  to  tell  him  that  you 
saw  me  here,  and  that  I  said  I  bore  in  mind  the  time  we 
talked  together  in  the  church-yard  ?  " 

Tom  promised  that  he  would. 

'*  Many  times  since  then,  when  I  have  wished  I  had  been 
carried  there  before  that  day,  I  have  recalled  his  words.  I 
wish  that  he  should  know  how  true  they  were,  although  the 
least  acknowledgment  to  that  effect  has  never  passed  my  lips, 
and  never  will." 

Tom  promised  this,  conditionally,  too.  He  did  not  tell 
her  how  improbable  it  was  that  he  and  the  old  man  would 
ever  meet  again,  because  he  thought  it  might  disturb  her 
more. 

"  If  he  should  ever  know  this,  through  your  means,  dear 
Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mercy,  "  tell  him  that  I  sent  the  message, 
not  for  myself,  but  that  he  might  be  more  forbearing  and 
more  patient,  and  more  trustful  to  some  other  person,  in  some 
other  time  of  need.  Tell  him  that  if  he  could  know  how  my 
heart  trembled  in  the  balance  that  day,  and  what  a  very  little 
would  have  turned  the  scale,  his  own  would  bleed  with  pity 
for  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Tom,  ''  I  will." 

*'  When  I  appeared  to  him  the  most  unworthy  of  his  help, 
I  was — I  know  I  was,  for  I  have  often,  often,  thought  about 
it  since — the  most  inclined  to  yield  to  what  he  showed  me. 
Oh  !  if  he  had  relented  but  a  little  more;  if  he  had  thrown 
himself  in  my  way  for  but  one  other  quarter  of  an  hour;  if  he 
had  extended  his  compassion  for  a  vain,  unthinking,  miser- 
able girl,  in  but  the  least  degree  ;  he  might,  and  1  believe 
he  would,  have  saved  her  !  Tell  him  that  I  don't  blame 
him,  but  am  grateful  for  the  effort  that  he  made  ;  but  ask 
him,  for  the  love  of  God,  and  youth,  and  in  merciful  consid- 
eration for  the  struggle  which  an  ill-advised  and  awakened 
nature  makes  to  hide  the  strength  it  thinks  its  weakness 
— ask  him  never,  never,  to  forget  this,  when  he  deals  with 
one  again  !  " 

Although  Tom  did  not  hold  the  clew  to  her  full  meaning, 
he  could  guess  it  pretty  nearly.  Touched  to  the  quick,  he 
took  her  hand  and  said,  or  meant  to  say,  some  words  of  con- 
solation. She  felt  and  understood  them,  whether  they  were 
spoken  or  no.  He  was  not  quite  certain,  afterward,  but  that 
she  had  tried  to  kneel  down  at  his  feet,  and  bless  him. 

He  found  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the  room  when  she  had 
left  it.     Mrs.  Todgers  was  there,  shaking  her  head.    Tom  had 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  5S3 

never  seen  Mrs.  Todgers,  it  is  needless'to  say,  but  he  had  a 
perception  of  her  being  the  lady  of  the  house  ;  and  he  saw 
some  genuine  compassion  in  her  eyes,  that  won  his  good 
opinion. 

"  Ah,  sir !  You  are  an  old  friend,  I  see,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom. 

"  And  yet,"  quoth  Mrs.  Todgers,  shutting  the  door  softly, 
**  she  hasn't  told  you  what  her  troubles  are,  I'm  certain." 

Tom  was  struck  by  these  words,  for  they  were  quite  true. 
"  Indeed,"  he  said,  "  she  has  not." 

"  And  never  would,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  *'  if  you  saw  her 
daily.  She  never  makes  the  least  complaint  to  me,  or  utters 
a  single  word  of  explanation  or  reproach.  But  I  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Todgers,  drawing  in  her  breath,  "/  know!" 

Tom  nodded  sorrowfully,  "  So  do  I." 

"  I  fully  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  taking  her  pocket- 
handkerchief  from  the  flat  reticule,  "  that  nobody  can  tell  one 
half  of  what  that  poor  young  creature  has  to  undergo.  But 
though  she  comes  here  constantly,  to  ease  her  poor  full  heart 
without  his  knowing  it ;  and  saying,  *  Mrs.  Todgers,  I  am 
very  low  to-day  ;  I  think  that  I  shall  soon  be  dead,'  sits  cry- 
ing in  my  room  until  the  fit  is  past  ;  1  know  no  more  from 
her.  And  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  putting  back  her 
handkerchief  again,  "  that  she  considers  me  a  good  friend 
too." 

Mrs.  Todgers  might  have  said  her  best  friend.  Commer- 
cial gentlemen  and  gravy  had  tried  Mrs.  Todgers's  temper  ; 
the  main  chance — it  was  such  a  very  small  one  in  her  case, 
that  she  might  have  been  excused  for  looking  sharp  after  it, 
lest  it  should  entirely  vanish  from  her  sight — had  taken  a 
firm  hold  on  Mrs.  Todgers's  attention.  But  in  some  odd 
nook  in  Mrs.  Todgers's  breast,  up  a  great  many  steps,  and  in 
a  corner  easy  to  be  overlooked,  there  was  a  secret  door,  with 
"  Woman  "  written  on  the  spring,  which,  at  a  touch  from 
Mercy's  hand,  had  flown  wide  open,  and  admitted  her  for 
shelter. 

When  boarding-house  accounts  are  balanced  with  all 
other  ledgers  and  the  books  of  the  Recording  Angel  are 
made  up  forever,  perhaps  there  may  be  seen  an  entry  to 
thy  credit,  lean  Mrs.  Todgers,  which  shall  make  thee  beau- 
tiful !  .         .  .  ■ 

She  was  growing  beautiful  so  rapidly  in  Tom's  eyes  ;  for 
he  saw  that  she  was  poor,  and  that  this  good  had  sprung  up 


5S4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  her  from  among  the  sordid  strivings  of  her  life  ;  that  she 
might  have  been  a  very  Venus  in  a  minute  more,  if  Miss 
Pecksniff  had  not  entered  with  her  friend. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Pinch  !  "  said  Charity,  performing  the  cere- 
mony of  introduction  with  evident  pride.  "  Mr.  Moddle. 
Where's  my  sister  ?  " 

"  Gone,  Miss  Pecksniff,"  Mrs.  Todgers  answered,  "  She 
had  appointed  to  be  home." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Charity,  looking  at  Tom.     "  Oh,  dear  me  !  " 

"  She's  greatly  altered  since  she's  been  Anoth — since  she's 
been  married,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  "  observed  Moddle. 

'*  My  dear  Augustus  !  "  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  in-  a  low  voice, 
"  I  verily  believe  you  have  said  that  fifty  thousand  times,  in 
my  hearing.     What  a  prose  you  are  !  " 

This  was  succeeded  by  some  trifling  love  passages,  which 
appeared  to  originate  with,  if  not  to  be  wholly  carried  on  by 
Miss  Pecksniff.  At  any  rate,  Mr.  Moddle  was  much  slower 
in  his  responses  than  is  customary  with  young  lovers,  and 
exhibited  a  lowness  of  spirits  which  was  quite  oppressive. 

He  did  not  improve  at  all  when  Tom  and  he  were  in  the 
streets,  but  sighed  so  dismally  that  it  was  dreadful  to  hear 
him.  As  a  means  of  cheering  him  up,  Tom  told  him  that  he 
wished  him  joy. 

"  Joy  !  "  cried  Moddle.     "  Ha,  ha  !  " 

*'  What  an  extraordinary  young  man  !  "  thought  Tom. 

"  The  scorner  has  not  set  his  seal  upon  you.  You  care 
what  becomes  of  you  ?  "  said  Moddle. 

Tom  admitted  that  it  was  a  subject  in  which  he  certainly 
felt  some  interest. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Mr.  Moddle.  "■  The  elements  may  have 
me  when  they  please.     I'm  ready." 

Tom  inferred  from  these,  and  other  expressions  of  the 
same  nature,  that  he  was  jealous.  Therefore  he  allowed 
him  to  take  his  own  course  ;  which  was  such  a  gloomy  one, 
that  he  felt  a  load  removed  from  his  mind  when  they  parted 
company  at  the  gate  of  Furnival's  Inn. 

It  was  now  a  couple  of  hours  past  John  Westlock's  dinner- 
time ;  and  he  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  quite  anx- 
ious for  Tom's  safety.  The  table  was  s])read  ;  the  wine  was 
carefully  decanted  ;  and  dinner  smelled  delicious. 

**  Why,  Tom,  old  boy,  where  on  earth  have  you  been  ? 
Your  box  is  here.  Get  your  boots  off  instantly,  and  sit 
down  !  " 

**  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can't  stay,  John,"  replied  Tom  Pinch, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT,  5S5 

who  was  breathless  with  the  haste  he  had  made  in  running 
up  the  stairs. 

''  Can't  stay  !  " 

"  If  you'll  go  on  with  your  dinner,"  said  Tom,  '*  I'll  tell 
you  my  reason  the  while.  I  mustn't  eat  myself,  or  I  shall 
have  no  appetite  for  the  chops." 

*'  There  are  no  chops  here,  my  good  fellow." 

"  No.     But  there  are  at  Islington,"  said  Tom. 

John  Westlock  was  perfectly  confounded  by  this  reply, 
and  vowed  he  would  not  touch  a  morsel  until  Tom  had 
explained  himself  fully.  So  '!"om  sat  down  and  told  him 
all  ;  to  which  he  listened  with  the  greatest  interest. 

He  knew  Tom  too  well,  and  respected  his  delicacy  too 
much  to  ask  him  why  he  had  taken  these  measures  without 
communicating  with  him  first.  He  quite  concurred  in  the 
expediency  of  Tom's  immediately  returning  to  his  sister,  as 
he  knew  so  little  of  the  place  in  which  he  had  left  her  ;  and 
good-humoredly  proposed  to  ride  back  with  him  in  a  cab,  in 
which  he  might  convey  his  box.  Tom's  proposition  that  he 
should  sup  with  them  that  night,  he  flatly  rejected,  but  made 
an  appointment  with  him  for  the  morrow.  ''And  now,  Tom," 
he  said,  as  they  rode  along,  "  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you, 
to  which  I  expect  a  manly  and  straightforward  answer.  Do 
you  want  any  money  ?    I  am  pretty  sure  you  do." 

"  I  don't  indeed,"  said  Tom." 

*'  I  believe  you  are  deceiving  me." 

"No.  With  many  thanks  to  you,  I  am  quite  in  earnest," 
Tom  replied.  "  My  sister  has  some  money,  and  so  have  J. 
If  I  had  nothing  else,  John,  I  have  a  five-pound  note,  which 
that  good  creature,  Mrs.  Lupin,  of  the  Dragon,  handed  up 
to  me  outside  the  coach,  in  a  letter,  begging  me  to  borrow 
it  ;  and  then  drove  off  as  hard  as  she  could  go." 

"And  a  blessing  on  every  dimple  in  her  handsome  face, 
say  I  !  "  cried  John,  "  though  why  you  should  give  her  the 
preference  over  me,  I  don't  know.  Never  mind.  I  bide  my 
time,  Tom." 

"And  I  hope  you'll  continue  to  bide  it,"  returned  Tom, 
gayly.  "  For  I  owe  you  more  already,  in  a  hundred  other 
ways,  than  I  can  ever  hope  to  pay." 

They  parted  at  the  door  of  Tom's  new  residence.  John 
Westlock,  sitting  in  the  cab,  and  catching  a  glimpse  of  a 
blooming  little  busy  creature  darting  out  to  kiss  Tom,  and 
to  help  him  with  his  box,  would  not  have  had  the  least  objec- 
tion to  change  places  with  him. 


586  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Well  !  she  was  a  cheerful  little  thing ;  and  had  a  quaint, 
bright  quietness  about  her,  that  was  infinitely  pleasant. 
Surely  she  was  the  best  sauce  for  chops  ever  invented. 
The  potatoes  seemed  to  take  a  pleasure  in  sending  up  their 
grateful  steam  before  her;  the  froth  upon  the  pint  of  porter 
pouted  to  abstract  her  notice.  But  it  was  all  in  vain.  She 
saw  nothing  but  Tom.  Tom  was  the  first  and  last  thing  in 
the  world. 

As  she  sat  opposite  to  Tom  at  supper,  fingering  one  of 
Tom's  pet  tunes  upon  the  table-cloth,  and  smiling  in  his 
face,  he  had  never  been  so  happy  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

SECRET    SERVICE. 

In  walking  from  the  City  with  his  sentimental  friend,  Tom 
Pinch  had  looked  into  the  face,  and  brushed  against  the 
thread-bare  sleeve,  of  Mr.  Nadgett,  man  of  mystery  to  the 
Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Assurance 
Company.  Mr.  Nadgett  naturally  passed  away  from  Tom's 
remembrance  as  he  passed  out  of  his  view,  for  he  didn't 
know  him,  and  had  never  heard  his  name. 

As  there  are  a  vast  number  of  people  in  the  huge  metrop- 
olis of  England  who  rise  up  every  morning,  not  knowing 
where  their  heads  will  rest  at  night,  so  there  are  a  multitude 
who,  shooting  arrows  over  houses  as  their  daily  business, 
never  know  on  whom  they  fall.  Mr.  Nadgett  might  have 
passed  Tom  Pinch  ten  thousand  times;  might  even  have  been 
quite  familiar  with  his  face,  his  name,  pursuits,  and  character; 
yet  never  once  have  dreamed  that  Tom  had  any  interest  in 
any  act  or  mystery  of  his.  Tom  might  have  done  the  like 
by  him,  of  course.  But  the  same  private  man  out  of  all  the 
men  alive,  was  in  the  mind  of  each  at  the  same  moment; 
was  prominently  connected,  though  in  a  different  manner, 
with  the  day's  adventures  of  both;  and  formed,  when  they 
passed  each  other  in  the  street,  the  one  absorbing  topic  of 
their  thoughts. 

Why  Tom  had  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  in  his  mind  requires  no 
explanation.  Why  Mr.  Nadgett  should  have  had  Jonas  Chuz- 
zlewit in  his,  is  quite  another  thing. 

But,  somehow  or  other,  that  amiable  and  worthy  orphan 
had  become  a  part  of  the  mystery  of  Mr.  Nadgett's  existence. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  587 

Mr.  Nadgett  took  an  interest  in  his  lightest  proceedings;  and 
it  never  flagged  or  wavered.  He  watched  him  in  and  out  of 
the  assurance  office,  where  he  was  now  formally  installed  as 
a  director;  he  dogged  his  footsteps  in  the  streets  ;  he  stood 
listening  when  he  talked;  he  sat  in  coffee-rooms  entering  his 
name  in  the  great  pocket-book,  over  and  over  again;  he 
wrote  letters  to  himself  about  him  constantly;  and  when  he 
found  them  in  his  pocket,  put  them  in  the  fire,  with  such 
distrust  and  caution  that  he  would  bend  down  to  watch  the 
crumpled  tinder  while  it  floated  upward,  as  if  his  mind  mis- 
gave him,  that  the  mystery  it  had  contained  might  come  out 
at  the  chimney-pot. 

And  yet  all  this  was  quite  a  secret.  Mr.  Nadgett  kept  it 
to  himself,  and  kept  it  close.  Jonas  had  no  more  idea  that 
Mr.  Nadgett's  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  than  he  had  that  he 
was  living  under  the  daily  inspection  and  report  of  a  whole 
order  of  Jesuits.  Indeed,  Mr.  Nadgett's  eyes  were  seldom 
fixed  on  any  other  objects  than  the  ground,  the  clock,  or  the 
fire;  but  every  button  on  his  coat  might  have  been  an  eye; 
he  saw  so  much. 

The  secret  manner  of  the  man  disarmed  suspicion  in  this 
wise;  suggesting,  not  that  he  was  watching  any  one,  but  that 
he  thought  some  other  man  was  watching  him.  He  went 
about  so  stealthily,  and  kept  himself  so  wrapped  up  in  him- 
self, that  the  whole  object  of  his  life  appeared  to  be,  to  avoid 
notice,  and  preserve  his  own  mystery.  Jonas  sometimes  saw 
him  in  the  street,  hovering  in  the  outer  office,  waiting  at  the 
door  for  the  man  who  never  came,  or  slinking  off  with  his 
immovable  face  and  drooping  head,  and  the  one  beaver  glove 
dangling  before  him ;  but  he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  the 
cross  upon  the  top  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  taking  note  of 
what  he  did,  or  slowly  winding  a  great  net  about  his  feet,  as 
of  Nadgett's  being  engaged  in  such  an  occupation. 

Mr.  Nadgett  made  a  mysterious  change  about  that  time  in 
his  mysterious  life;  for  whereas  he  had,  until  now,  been  first 
seen  every  morning  coming  down  Cornhill,  so  exactly  like  the 
Nadgett  of  the  day  before,  as  to  occasion  a  popular  belief 
that  he  never  went  to  bed  or  took  his  clothes  off,  he  was  now 
first  seen  in  Holborn,  coming  out  of  Kingsgate  Street;  and  it 
was  soon  discovered  that  he  actually  went  every  morning  to 
a  barber's  shop  in  that  street  to  get  shaved;  and  that  the 
barber's  name  was  Sweedlepipe.  He  seemed  to  make 
appointments  with  the  man  who  never  came,  to  meet  him  at 
this    barber's  ;  for  he  would  frequently  take  long  spells  of 


558  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

waiting  in  the  shop,  and  would  ask  for  pen  and  ink,  and  pull 
out  his  pocket-book,  and  be  very  busy  over  it  for  an  hour  at 
a  time.  Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  had  many  deep 
discouragings  on  the  subject  of  this  mysterious  customer  ; 
but  they  usually  agreed  that  he  had  speculated  too  much  and 
was  keeping  out  of  the  way. 

He  must  have  appointed  the  man  who  never  kept  his 
word,  to  meet  him  at  another  new  place  too;  for  one  day  he 
was  found,  for  the  first  time,  by  the  waiter  at  the  Mourning 
Coach-Horse,  the  house-of-call  for  undertakers,  down  in 
the  City  there,  making  figures  with  a  pipe-stem  in  the  sawdust 
on  a  clean  spittoon;  and  declining  to  call  for  any  thing,  on 
the  ground  of  expecting  a  gentleman  presently.  As  the  gen- 
tleman was  not  honorable  enough  to  keep  his  engagement 
he  came  again  next  day,  Avith  his  pocket-book  in  such  a  state 
of  distention  that  he  was  regarded  in  the  bar  as  a  man  of  large 
property.  After  that,  he  repeated  his  visits  every  day,  and 
had  so  much  writing  to  do,  that  he  made  nothing  of  empty- 
ing a  capacious  leaden  inkstand  in  two  sittings.  Although 
he  never  talked  much,  still,  by  being  there  among  the  regu- 
lar customers,  he  made  their  acquaintance;  and  in  course  of 
time  became  quite  intimate  with  Mr.  Tacker,  Mr.  Mould's 
foreman;  and  even  with  Mr.  Mould  himself,  who  openly 
said  he  was  a  long-headed  man,  a  dry  one,  a  salt  fish,  a 
deep  file,  a  rasper:  and  made  him  the  subject  of  many  other 
flattering  encomiums. 

At  the  same  time,  too,  he  told  the  people  in  the  assurance 
office,  in  his  own  mysterious  way,  that  there  was  something 
wrong  (secretly  wrong,  of  course)  in  his  liver,  and  that  he 
feared  he  must  put  himself  under  the  doctor's  hands.  He 
was  delivered  over  to  Jobling  upon  this  representation;  and 
though  Jobling  could  not  find  out  where  his  liver  was  wrong, 
wrong  Mr.  Nadgett  said  it  was;  observing  that  it  was  his  own 
liver  and  he  hoped  he  ought  to  know.  Accordingly,  he 
became  Mr.  Jobling's  patient;  and  detailing  his  symptoms  in 
his  slow  and  secret  way,  was  in  and  out  of  that  gentleman's 
room  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

As  he  pursued  all  these  occupations  at  once;  and  all 
steadily;  and  all  secretly;  and  never  slackened  in  his  watch- 
fulness of  every  thing  that  Mr.  Jonas  said  and  did,  and  left 
unsaid  and  undone;  it  is  not  improbable  that  they  were,  se- 
cretly, essential  parts  of  some  great  scheme  which  Mr. 
Nadgett  had  on  foot. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  this  very  day  on  which  so  much 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  589 

had  happened  to  Tom  Pincli,  that  Nadgett  suddenly  ap* 
peared  before  Mr.  Montague's  house  in  Pall  Mall — he  always 
made  his  appearance  as  if  he  had  at  that  moment  come  up  a 
trap — when  the  clocks  were  striking  nine.  He  rang  the 
bell  in  a  covert  under-handed  way,  as  though  it  were  a  trea- 
sonable act;  and  passed  in  at  the  door,  the  moment  it  was 
opened  wide  enough  to  receive  his  body.  That  done,  he 
shut  it  immediately,  with  his  own  hands, 

Mr.  Bailey,  taking  up  his  name  without  delay,  returned 
with  a  request  that  he  would  follow  him  into  his  master's 
chamber.  The  chairman  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested 
Loan  and  Life  Assurance  Board  was  dressing,  and  received 
him  as  a  business  person  who  was  often  backward  and  for- 
ward, and  was  received  at  all  times  for  his  business'  sake. 

''Well,  Mr.  Nadgett?" 

Mr.  Nadgett  put  his  hat  upon  the  ground  and  coughed. 
The  boy  having  withdrawn  and  shut  the  door,  he  went  to  it 
softly,  examined  the  handle,  and  returned  to  within  a  pace 
or  two  of  the  chair  in  which  Mr.  Montague  sat. 

"  Any  news,  Mr.  Nadgett  ? " 

"  I  think  we  have  some  news  at  last,  sir." 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  it.  I  began  to  fear  you  were  off  the 
scent,  Mr.  Nadgett." 

"  No,  sir.  It  grows  cold  occasionally.  It  will  sometimes. 
We  can't  help  that." 

"  You  are  truth  itself,  Mr.  Nadgett.  Do  you  report  a 
great  success  ? " 

"  That  depends  upon  your  judgment  and  construction  of 
it,"  was  his  answer,  as  he  put  on  his  spectacles. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  yourself.  Have  you  pleased 
yourself  ?" 

Mr.  Nadgett  rubbed  his  hands  slowly,  stroked  his  chin, 
looked  round  the  room,  and  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  think  it's  a 
good  case.  I  am  disposed  to  think  it's  a  good  case.  Will 
you  go  into  it  at  once  ? " 

"  By  all  means." 

Mr.  Nadgett  picked  out  a  certain  chair  from  among  the 
rest,  and  having  planted  it  in  a  particular  spot,  as  care- 
fully as  if  he  had  been  going  to  vault  over  it,  placed  another 
chair  in  front  of  it;  leaving  room  for  his  own  legs  between 
them.  He  then  sat  down  in  chair  number  two,  and  laid 
his  pocket-book,  very  carefully,  on  chair  number  one.  He 
then  untied  the  pocket-book,  and  hung  the  string  over  the 
back  of  chair  number  one.     He  then  drew  both  the  chairs  a 


590  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

little  nearer  Mr.  Montague,  and  opening  the  pocket-book 
spread  out  its  contents.  Finally,  he  selected  a  certain 
memorandum  from  the  rest,  and  held  it  out  to  his  employer, 
who,  during  the  whole  of  these  preliminary  ceremonies,  had 
been  making  violent  efforts  to  conceal  his  impatience. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  so  fond  of  making  notes,  my  ex- 
cellent friend,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  with  a  ghastly  smile. 
"  I  wish  you  would  consent  to  give  me  their  purport  by  word 
of  mouth." 

"  I  don't  like  word  of  mouth,"  said  Mr.  Nadgett  gravely. 
*'  We  never  know  who's  listening." 

Mr.  Montague  was  going  to  retort,  when  Nadgett  handed 
him  the  paper,  and  said,  with  quiet  exultation  in  his  tone, 
'*  We'll  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  take  that  one  first,  if 
you  please,  sir." 

The  chairman  cast  his  eyes  upon  it,  coldly,  and  with  a 
smile  which  did  not  render  any  great  homage  to  the  slow 
and  methodical  habits  of  his  spy.  But  he  had  not  read 
half  a  dozen  lines,  when  the  expression  of  his  face  began  to 
change,  and  before  he  had  finished  the  perusal  of  the  paper, 
it  was  full  of  grave  and  serious  attention. 

'*  Number  two,"  said  Mr.  Nadgett,  handing  him  another, 
and  receiving  back  the  first.  "  Read  number  two,  sir,  if  you 
please.     There  is  more  interest  as  you  go  on." 

Tigg  Montague  leaned  backward  in  his  chair,  and  cast 
upon  his  emissary  such  a  look  of  vacant  wonder  (not  un- 
mingled  with  alarm),  that  Mr.  Nadgett  considered  it  neces- 
sary to  repeat  the  request  he  had  already  twice  preferred; 
with  the  view  of  recalling  his  attention  to  the  point  in  hand. 
Profiting  by  the  hint,  Mr.  Montague  went  on  with  number 
two,  and  afterward  with  numbers  three,  and  four,  and  five, 
and  so  on. 

These  documents  were  all  in  Mr.  Nadgett's  writing,  and 
were  apparently  a  series  of  memoranda,  jotted  down  from 
time  to  time  upon  the  backs  of  old  letters,  or  any  scrap  of 
paper  that  came  first  to  hand.  Loose  straggling  scrawls 
they  were,  and  of  very  uninviting  exterior;  but  they  had 
weighty  purpose  in  them,  if  the  chairman's  face  were  any 
index  to  the  character  of  their  contents. 

The  progress  of  Mr.  Nadgett's  secret  satisfaction  arising 
out  of  the  effect  they  made,  kept  pace  with  the  emotions  of 
the  reader.  At  first,  Mr.  Nadgett  sat  with  his  spectacles 
low  down  upon  his  nose,  looking  over  them  at  his  employer, 
and  nervously  rubbing  his  hands.     After  a  little  while  he 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  591 

changed  his  posture  in  his  chair  for  one  of  greater  ease,  and 
leisurely  perused  the  next  document  he  held  ready,  as  if  an 
occasional  glance  at  his  employer's  face  were  now  enough, 
and  all  occasion  for  anxiety  or  doubt  were  gone.  And 
finally  he  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  window,  where  he  stood 
with  a  triumphant  air,  until  Tigg  Montague  had  finished. 

*'And  this  is  the  last,  Mr.  Nadgett  >  "  said  that  gentle- 
man, drawing  a  long  breath. 

"  That,  sir,  is  the  last." 

"You  are  a  wonderful  man,  Mr.  Nadgett  ! " 

"  I  think  it  is  a  pretty  good  case,"  he  returned  as  he  gath- 
ered up  his  papers.     "  It  cost  some  trouble,  sir." 

"  The  trouble  shall  be  well  rewarded,  Mr.  Nadgett." 
Nadgett  bowed.  *^  There  is  a  deeper  impression  of  some- 
body's hoof  here,  than  I  expected,  Mr.  Nadgett.  I  may  con- 
gratulate myself  upon  your  being  such  a  good  hand  at  a  se- 
cret." 

"  Oh  !  nothing  has  an  interest  to  me  that's  not  a  secret," 
replied  Nadgett,  as  he  tied  the  string  about  his  pocket-book 
and  put  it  up.  "  It  almost  takes  away  any  pleasure  I  may 
have  had  in  this  inquiry  even  to  make  it  known  to  you." 

''  A  most  invaluable  constitution,"  Tigg  retorted.  ''  A 
great  gift  for  a  gentleman  employed  as  you  are,  Mr.  Nadgett. 
Much  better  than  discretion;  though  you  possess  that  quality 
also  in  an  eminent  degree.  I  think  I  heard  a  double  knock. 
Will  you  put  your  head  out  of  the  window,  and  tell  me 
whether  there  is  any  body  at  the  door  ?  " 

Mr.  Nadgett  softly  raised  the  sash,  and  peered  out  from 
the  very  corner,  as  a  man  might  who  was  looking  down  into 
a  street  from  whence  a  brisk  discharge  of  musketry  might 
be  expected  at  any  moment.  Drawing  in  his  head  with 
equal  caution,  he  observed,  not  altering  his  voice  or  manner: 

"  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"  I  thought  so,"  Tigg  retorted. 

"  Shall  I  go  ?  " 

'M  think  you  had  better.  Stay  though  !  No  !  remain 
here,  Mr.  Nadgett,  if  you  please." 

It  was  remarkable  how  pale  and  flurried  he  had  become 
in  an  instant.  There  was  nothing  to  account  for  it.  His 
eye  had  fallen  on  his  razors  :  but  what  of  them  ! 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  announced. 

*'  Show  him  up  directly,  Nadgett  !  Don't  leave  us  alone 
together.  Mind  you  don't,  now  !  By  the  Lord  !  "  he  added 
in  a  whisper  to  himself  :  "  we  don't  know  what  may  happen." 


592  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Saying  this,  he  hurriedly  took  up  a  couple  of  hair-brushes, 
and  began  to  exercise  them  on  his  own  head,  as  if  his  toilet 
had  not  been  interrupted,  Mr.  Nadgett  withdrew  to  the 
stove,  in  which  there  was  a  small  fire  for  the  convenience  of 
heating  curling-irons  ;  and  taking  advantage  of  so  favorable 
an  opportunity  for  drying  his  pocket  handkerchief,  produced 
it  without  loss  of  time.  There  he  stood,  during  the  whole 
interview,  holding  it  before  the  bars,  and  sometimes,  but  not 
often,  glancing  over  his  shoulder. 

''  My  dear  Chuzzlewit  ! "  cried  Montague,  as  Jonas 
entered  ;  ''  you  rise  with  the  lark.  Though  you  go  to  bed 
with  the  nightingale,  you  rise  with  the  lark.  You  have 
superhuman  energy,  my  dear  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

*'  Ecod  !  "  said  Jonas,  with  an  air  of  languor  and  ill-humor, 
as  he  took  a  chair,  "  I  should  be  very  glad  not  to  get  up  with 
the  lark,  if  I  could  help  it.  But  I  am  a  light  sleeper  ;  and 
it's  better  to  be  up,  than  lying  awake,  counting  the  dismal 
old  church-clocks,  in  bed." 

"  A  light  sleeper  !  "  cried  his  friend.  '*  Now,  what  is  a 
light  sleeper  ?  I  often  hear  the  expression,  but  upon  my 
life  I  have  not  the  least  conception  what  a  light  sleeper  is." 

"  Hallo  :  "  said  Jonas.  ''  Who's  that  ?  Oh,  old  what's-his- 
name  ;  looking  (as  usual)  as  if  he  wanted  to  skulk  up  the 
chimney." 

"  Ha,  ha  !     I  have  no  doubt  he  does." 

"  Well  !  He's  not  wanted  here,  I  suppose,"  said  Jonas. 
"  He  may  go,  mayn't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  let  him  stay,  let  him  stay  !  "  said  Tigg.  "  He's  a 
mere  piece  of  furniture.  He  has  been  making  his  report, 
and  is  waiting  for  further  orders.  He  has  been  told,"  said 
Tigg,  raising  his  voice,  "  not  to  lose  sight  of  certain  friends 
of  ours,  or  to  think  that  he  has  done  with  them  by  any 
means.     He  understands  his  business." 

"  He  need,"  replied  Jonas  ;  "  for  of  all  the  precious  old 
dummies  in  appearance  that  ever  I  saw,  he's  about  the  worst. 
He's  afraid  of  me,  I  think."  >• 

"  It's  my  belief,"  said  Tigg,  "  that  you  are  poison  to  him, 
Nadgett !  give  me  that  towel  !  " 

He  had  as  little  occasion  for  a  towel  as  Jonas  had  for  a 
start.  But  Nadgett  brought  it  quickly  ;  and,  having  lin- 
gered for  a  moment,  fell  back  upon  his  old  post  by  the  fire. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  fellow,"  resumed  Tigg,  **  you  are  too 
what's  the  matter  with  your  lips  ?  How  white  they  are  !  " 

"I  took  some  vinegar  just  now,"   said   Jonas,     *' I   had 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  593 

oysters  for  my  breakfast.  Where  are  they  white  ? "  he 
added,  muttering  an  oath,  and  rubbing  them  upon  his  hand- 
kerchief.    "  I  don't  beUeve  they  are  white." 

"  Now  I  look  again,  they  are  not,"  repHed  his  friend. 
"  They  are  coming  right  again." 

"  Say  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Jonas  angrily, 
''  and  let  my  face  be  !  As  long  as  I  can  show  my  teeth 
when  I  want  to  (and  I  can  do  that  pretty  well),  the  color  of 
my  lips  is  not  material." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  Tigg.  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  you 
are  too  quick  and  active  for  our  friend.  He  is  too  shy  to 
cope  with  such  a  man  as  you,  but  does  his  duty  well.  Oh, 
very  well  !    But  what  is  a  light  sleeper  ?  " 

"  Hang  a  light  sleeper  !  "   exclaimed  Jonas  pettishly. 

'*  No,  no,   interrupted   Tigg.     ''  No.     We'll   not  do  that." 

"  A  light  sleeper  ain't  a  heavy  one,"  said  Jonas  in  his 
sulky  way;  "don't  sleep  much,  ai.d  don't  sleep  well,  and 
don't  sleep  sound." 

"  And  dreams,"  said  Tigg,  ''  and  cries  out  in  an  ugly 
manner  ;  and  when  the  candle  burns  down  in  the  night,  is 
in  an  agony  ;  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.     I  see  !  " 

They  were  silent  for  a  little  time.     Then  Jonas  spoke  : 

**  Now  we've  done  with  child's  talk,  I  want  to  have  a  word 
with  you.  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you  before  we  meet 
up  yonder  to-day.  I  am  not  satisfied  with  the  state  of 
affairs." 

"  Not  satisfied  !  "  cried  Tigg.    "  The  money  comes  in  well." 

"  The  money  comes  in  well  enough,"  retorted  Jonas  ;  "  but 
it  don't  come  out  well  enough.  It  can't  be  got  at,  easily 
enough.  I  haven't  sufficient  power  ;  it  is  all  in  your  hands. 
Ecod  !  what  with  one  of  your  by-laws,  and  another  of  your 
by-laws,  and  your  votes  in  this  capacity,  and  your  votes  in 
that  capacity,  and  your  official  rights,  and  your  individual 
rights,  and  other  people's  rights  who  are  only  you  again, 
there  are  no  rights  left  for  me.  Every  body  else's  rights  are  my 
wrongs.  What's  the  use  of  my  having  a  voice  if  it's  always 
drowned  ?  I  might  as  well  be  dumb,  and  it  would  be  much 
less  aggravating.     I'm  not  agoing  to  stand  that,  you  know." 

"  No  !  "  said  Tigg  in  an  insinuating  tone. 

"  No  !  "  returned  Jonas,  "  I'm  not,  indeed.  I'll  play  Old 
Gooseberry  with  the  office,  and  make  you  glad  to  buy  me 
out  at  a  good  high  figure,  if  you  try  any  of  your  tricks  with 
me." 

"  I  give  you  my  honor "  Montague  began. 


594  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Oh  !  confound  your  honor,"  interrupted  Jonas,  who 
became  more  coarse  and  quarrelsome  as  the  other  remon- 
strated, which  may  have  been  a  part  of  Mr.  Montague's 
intention  :  '^  I  want  a  little  more  control  over  the  money. 
You  may  have  all  the  honor,  if  you  like  ;  I'll  never  bring 
you  to  book  for  that.  But  I'm  not  agoing  to  stand  it,  as  it  is 
now.  If  you  should  take  it  into  your  honorable  head  to  go 
aboard  with  the  bank,  I  don't  see  much  to  prevent  you. 
Well  !  That  won't  do.  I've  had  some  very  good  dinners 
here,  but  they'd  come  too  dear  on  such  terms  :  and  there- 
fore, that  won't  do." 

"  I  am  unfortunate  to  find  you  in  this  humor,"  said  Tigg, 
with  a  remarkable  kind  of  smile  :  "  for  I  was  going  to  pro- 
pose to  you — for  your  own  advantage  ;  solely  for  your  own 
advantage — that  you  should  venture  a  little  more  with   us." 

"  Was  you,  by  G — ?  "  said  Jonas,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"Yes.  And  to  suggest,"  pursued  Montague,  "  that  surely 
you  have  friends  ;  indeed,  I  know  you  have  ;  who  would 
answer  our  purpose  admirably,  and  whom  we  should  be 
delighted  to  receive." 

*'  How  kind  of  you  !  You'd  be  delighted  to  receive  'em, 
would  you  ?  "  said  Jonas,  bantering. 

*'  I  give  you  my  sacred  honor,  quite  transported.  As  your 
friends,  observe  !  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  as  my  friends,  of  course.  You'll 
be  very  much  delighted  when  you  get  'em,  I  have  no  doubt. 
And  it'll  be  all  to  my  advantage,  won't  it!  " 

"  It  will  be  very  much  to  your  advantage,"  answered 
Montague,  poising  a  brush  in  each  hand,  and  looking  stead- 
ily upon  him.  "  It  will  be  very  much  to  your  advantage,  I 
assure  you." 

"  And  you  can  tell  me  how,"  said  Jonas,  "can't  you  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  how  ?  "  returned  the  other. 

"I  think  you  had  better,"  said  Jonas.  "  Strange  things 
have  been  done  in  the  assurance  way  before  now,  by  strange 
sorts  of  men,  and  I  mean  to  take  care  of  myself." 

"  Chuzzlewit  !  "  replied  Montague,  leaning  forward,  with 
his  arms  upon  his  knees,  and  looking  full  into  his  face. 
"  Strange  things  have  been  done,  and  are  done  every  day  ; 
not  only  in  our  way,  but  in  a  variety  of  other  ways  ;  and  no 
one  suspects  them.  But  ours,  as  you  say,  my  good  friend,  is 
a  strange  way  ;  and  we  strangely  happen,  sometimes,  to 
come  into  the  knowledge  of  very  strange  events." 

He  beckoned  to  Jonas  to  bring  his  chair  nearer  ;  and  look- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEW  IT.  595 

ing  slightly  round,  as  if  to  remind   him  of  the    presence  of 
Nadgett,  whispered  in  his  ear. 

From  red  to  white  ;  from  white  to  red  again  ;  from  red  to 
yellow  ;  then  to  a  cold,  dull,  awful,  sweat-bedabbled  blue. 
In  that  short  whisper,  all  these  changes  fell  upon  the  face  of 
Jonas  Chuzzlewit  ;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  hand  uj)on 
the  whisperer's  mouth,  appalled,  least  any  syllable  of  what 
he  said  should  reach  the  ears  of  the  third  person  present,  it 
was  as  bloodless,  and  as  heavy  as  the  hand  of  death. 

He  drew  his  chair  away  and  sat  a  spectacle  of  terror, 
misery,  and  rage.  He  was  afraid  to  speak,  or  look,  or  move, 
or  sit  still.  Abject,  crouching,  and  miserable,  he  was  a 
greater  degradation  to  the  form  he  bore,  then  if  he  had  been 
a  loathsome  wound  from  head  to  heel. 

His  companion  leisurely  resumed  his  dressing,  and  com- 
pleted it,  glancing  sometimes  with  a  smile  at  the  transfor- 
mation he  had  effected,  but  never  speaking  once. 

*'  You'll  not  object,"  he  said,  when  he  was  quite  equipped, 
"  to  venture  further  with  us,  Chuzzlewit,  my  friend  ?  " 

His  pale  lips  laintly  stammered  out  a  "  No." 

"  Well  said  !  That's  like  yourself.  Do  you  know  I  was 
thinking  yesterday  that  your  father-in-law,  relying  on  your 
advice  as  a  man  of  great  sagacity  in  money  matters,  as  no 
doubt  you  are,  would  join  us,  if  the  thing  were  well  pre- 
sented to  him.     He  has  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  money." 

"  Shall  I  leave  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  you  ?  Will  you  undertake 
for  Mr.  Pecksniff  ?  " 

"I'll  try.     I'll  do  my  best." 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  replied  the  other,  clapping  him 
upon  the  shoulder.  "  Shall  we  walk  down  stairs  ?  Mr. 
Nadgett  !     Follow  us,  if  you  please." 

They  went  down  in  that  order.  Whatever  Jonas  felt  in 
reference  to  Montague;  whatever  sense  he  had  of  being  caged, 
and  barred,  and  trapped,  and  having  fallen  down  into  a  pit 
of  deepest  ruin  ;  whatever  thoughts  came  crowding  on  his 
mind  even  at  that  early  time,  of  one  terrible  chance  of 
escape,  of  one  red  glimmer  in  a  sky  of  blackness  ;  he  no 
more  thought  that  the  slinking  figure  half  a  dozen  stairs 
behind  him  was  his  pursuing  fate,  than  that  the  other  figure 
at  his  side  was  his  good  angel. 


596  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

CONTAINING  SOME  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  OF  THE  DOMESTIC 
ECONOMY  OF  THE  PINCHES  ;  WITH  STRANGE  NEWS  FROM 
THE  CITY,  NARROWLY  CONCERNING  TOM. 

Pleasant  little  Ruth  !  Cheerful,  tidy,  bustling,  quiet  little 
Ruth  !  No  doll's  house  ever  yielded  greater  delight  to  its 
young  mistress,  than  little  Ruth  derived  from  her  glorious 
dominion  over  the  triangular  parlor  and  the  two  small  bed- 
rooms. 

To  be  Tom's  housekeeper.  What  dignity  !  Housekeep- 
ing, upon  the  commonest  terms,  associated  itself  with  eleva- 
ted responsibilities  of  all  sorts  and  kinds  ;  but  housekeep- 
ing for  Tom,  implied  the  utmost  complication  of  grave  trusts 
and  mighty  charges.  Well  might  she  take  the  keys  out  of 
the  little  chiffonier  which  held  the  tea  and  sugar  ;  and  out 
of  the  two  little  damp  cupboards  down  by  the  fire-place, 
where  the  very  black  beetles  got  moldy,  and  had  the  shine 
taken  out  of  their  backs  by  envious  mildew  ;  and  jingle  them 
upon  a  ring  before  Tom's  eyes  when  he  came  down  to  break- 
fast !  Well  might  she,  laughing  musically,  put  them  up  in 
that  blessed  little  pocket  of  hers  with  a  merry  pride  !  For  it 
was  such  a  grand  novelty  to  be  mistress  of  any  thing,  that  if 
she  had  been  the  most  relentless  and  despotic  of  all  little 
housekeepers,  she  might  have  pleaded  just  that  much  for 
her  excuse,  and  have  been  honorably  acquitted. 

So  far  Trom  being  despotic,  however,  there  was  a  coyness 
about  her  very  way  of  pouring  out  the  tea,  which  Tom  quite 
reveled  in.  And  when  she  asked  him  what  he  would  like  to 
have  for  dinner,  and  faltered  out  "  chops  "  as  a  reasonably 
good  suggestion  after  their  last  night's  successful  supper, 
Tom  grew  quite  facetious  and  rallied  her  desperately. 

"  I  don't  know,  Tom,"  said  his  sister,  blushing,  "  I  am 
not  quite  confident,  but  I  think  I  could  make  a  beef-steak 
pudding,  if  I  tried,  Tom." 

**  In  the  whole  catalogue  of  cookery,  there  is  nothing  1 
should  like  so  much  as  a  beef-steak  pudding  !  "  cried  Tom; 
slapping  his  leg  to  give  the  greater  force  to  this  reply. 

*'  Yes,  dear,  that's  excellent  !  But  if  it  should  happen  not 
to  come  quite  right  the  first  time,"  his  sister  faltered  ;  *'  if  it 
should  happen  not  to  be  a  pudding  exactly,  but  should  turn 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  597 

out  a  stew,  or  a  soup,  or  something  of  that  sort,  you'll  not  be 
vexed,  Tom,  will  you  ?  " 

The  serious  way  in  which  she  looked  at  Tom  ;  the  way  in 
which  Tom  looked  at  her  ;  and  the  way  in  which  she  gradu- 
ally broke  into  a  merry  laugh  at  her  own  expense  ;  would 
have  enchanted  you. 

"  Why,"  said  Tom,  "  this  is  capital.  It  gives  us  a  new, 
and  quite  an  uncommon  interest  in  the  dinner.  We  put  into 
a  lottery  for  a  beef-steak  pudding,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
say  what  we  may  get.  We  may  make  some  wonderful  dis- 
covery, perhaps,  and  produce  such  a  dish  as  never  was  known 
before." 

*'  I  shall  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  we  do,  Tom,"  returned 
his  sister,  still  laughing  merrily,  "  or  if  it  should  prove  to  be 
such  a  dish  as  we  shall  not  feel  very  anxious  to  produce 
again  ;  but  the  meat  must  come  out  of  the  saucepan  at  last, 
somehow  or  other,  you  know.  We  can't  cook  it  into  nothing 
at  all  ;  that's  a  great  comfort.  So  if  you  like  to  venture,  / 
will." 

''  I  have  not  the  least  doubt,"  rejoined  Tom,  **  that  it  will 
come  out  an  excellent  pudding  ;  or  at  all  events,  I  am  sure 
that  I  shall  think  so.  There  is  naturally  something  so 
handy  and  brisk  about  you,  Ruth,  that  if  you  said  you  could 
make  a  bowl  of  faultless  turtle  soup,  I   should  believe  you." 

And  Tom  was  right.  She  was  precisely  that  sort  of  per- 
son. Nobody  ought  to  have  been  able  to  resist  her  coaxing 
manner  ;  and  nobody  had  any  business  to  try.  Yet  she  never 
seemed  to  know  it  was  her  manner  at  all.  That  was  the  best 
of  it. 

Well  !  she  washed  up  the  breakfast  cups,  chatting  away 
the  whole  time,  and  telling  Tom  all  sorts  of  anecdotes  about 
the  brass  and-copper  founder ;  put  every  thing  in  its  place  ; 
made  the  room  as  neat  as  herself  ; — you  must  not  suppose  its 
shape  was  half  as  neat  as  hers  though,  or  any  thing  like  it — 
and  brushed  Tom's  old  hat  round  and  round  and  round  again, 
until  it  was  as  sleek  as  Mr,  Pecksniff.  Then  she  discovered,  all 
in  a  moment,  that  Tom's  shirt  collar  was  frayed  at  the  edge; 
and  flying  up  stairs  for  a  needle  and  thread,  came  flying 
down  again  with  her  thimble  on,  and  set  it  right  with  won- 
derful expertness  ;  never  once  sticking  the  needle  into  his 
face,  although  she  was  humming  his  pet  tune  from  first  to 
last,  and  beating  the  time  with  the  fingers  of  her  left  hand 
upon  his  neck  cloth.  She  had  no  sooner  done  this,  than  off 
she  was  again  ;  and  there  she  stood  once  more,  as  brisk  and 


595  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT, 

busy  as  a  bee,  tying  that  compact  little  chin  of  hers  into  an 
equally  compact  little  bonnet  :  intent  on  bustling  out  to  the 
butcher's  without  a  minute's  loss  of  time  ;  and  inviting 
Tom  to  come  and  see  the  steak  cut,  with  his  own  eyes.  As 
to  Tom,  he  was  ready  to  go  anywhere  ;  so  off  they  trotted, 
arm  in  arm  as  nimbly  as  you  please  :  saying  to  each  other, 
what  a  quiet  street  it  was  to  lodge  in,  and  how  very  cheap, 
and  what  an  airy  situation. 

To  see  the  butcher  slap  the  steak,  before  he  laid  it  on  the 
block,  and  give  his  knife  a  sharpening,  was  to  forget  break- 
fast instantly.  It  was  agreeable,  too — it  really  was — to  see 
him  cut  it  off,  so  smooth  and  juicy.  There  was  nothing 
savage  in  the  act,  although  the  knife  was  large  and  keen  ; 
it  was  a  piece  of  art,  high  art ;  there  was  delicacy  of 
touch,  clearness  of  tone,  skillful  handling  of  the  subject, 
fine  shading.     It  was  the  triumph  of  mind  over  matter;  quite. 

Perhaps  the  greenest  cabbage-leaf  ever  grown  in  a  garden 
was  wrapped  about  this  steak  before  it  was  delivered  over  to 
Tom.  But  the  butcher  had  a  sentiment  for  his  business, 
and  knew  how  to  refine  upon  it!  When  he  saw  I'om  put- 
ting the  cabbage-leaf  into  his  pocket  awkwardly,  he  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  do  it  for  him  ;  "  for  meat,"  he  said  with 
some  emotion,  *'  must  be  humored,  not  drove." 

Back  they  went  to  the  lodgings  again,  after  they  had 
bought  some  eggs  and  flour,  and  such  small  matters  ;  and 
Tom  sat  gravely  down  to  write,  at  one  end  of  the  parlor 
table,  while  Ruth  prepared  to  make  the  pudding,  at  the 
other  end  ;  for  there  was  nobody  in  the  house  but  an  old 
woman  (the  landlord  being  a  mysterious  sort  of  man,  who 
went  out  early  in  the  morning,  and  was  scarcely  ever  seen)  ; 
and,  saving  in  mere  household  drudgery,  they  waited  on 
themselves. 

"  What  are  you  writing,  Tom  ?  "  inquired  his  sister,  laying 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Why,  you  see,  my  dear,''  said  Tom,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  and  looking  up  in  her  face,  "  I  am  very  anxious,  of 
course,  to  obtain  some  suitable  employment ;  and  before 
Mr.  Westlock  comes  this  afternoon,  I  think  I  may  as  well 
prepare  a  little  description  of  myself  and  my  qualifications  ; 
such  as  he  could  show  to  any  friend  of  his." 

"You  had  better  do  the  same  for  me,  Tom,  also,"  said 
his  sister,  casting  down  her  eyes.  "  I  should  dearly  like  to 
keep  house  for  you,  and  take  care  of  you  always,  Tom  ; 
but  we  are  not  rich  enough  for  that." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  599 

*'  We  are  not  rich,"  returned  Tom,  "  certainly  ;  and  we 
may  be  much  poorer.  But  we  will  not  part,  if  we  can  help 
it.  No,  no  :  we  will  made  up  our  minds,  Ruth,  that  unless 
we  are  so  very  unfortunate  as  to  render  me  quite  sure  that 
you  would  be  better  off  away  from  me,  than  with  me,  we 
will  battle  it  out  together.  I  am  certain  we  shall  be  happier 
if  we  can  battle  it  out  together.     Don't  you  think  we  shall  ?" 

"  Think,  Tom  !  " 

"  Oh,  tut,  tut !"  interposed  Tom,  tenderly.  '*  You  must'nt 
cry." 

*'  No,  no  ;  I  won't,  Tom,  Rut  you  can't  afford  it,  dear. 
You  can't  indeed." 

"  We  don't  know  that,"  said  Tom.  *'  How  are  we  to  know 
that,  yet  awhile,  and  without  trying  ?  Lord  bless  my  soul  !  " 
Tom's  energy  became  quite  grand,  **  There  is  no  knowing: 
what  may  happen,  if  we  try  hard.  And  I  am  sure  we  can 
live  contentedly  upon  a  very  little — if  we  can  only  get  it." 

**  Yes  ;  that  I  am  sure  we  can,  Tom." 

"Why,  then,"  said  Tom,  "we  must  try  for  it.  My 
friend,  John  Westlock,  is  a  capital  fellow,  'and  very  shrewd 
and  intelligent.  I'll  take  his  advice.  We'll  talk  it  over 
with  him — both  of  us,  together.  You'll  like  John  very  much, 
when  you  come  to  know  him,  I  am  certain.  Don't  cry,  don't 
cry.  You  make  a  beef-steak  pudding,  indeed  !  "  said  Tom, 
giving  her  a  gentle  push.  "  Why,  you  haven't  boldness 
enough  for  a  dumpling." 

"  You  willcsW  it  a  pudding,  Tom.   Mind  !  I  told  you  not  !  " 

"  I  may  as  well  call  it  that,  till  it  proves  to  be  something 
else,"  said  Tom.  "  Oh,  you  are  going  to  work  in  earnest,  are 
you?" 

Ay,  ay  !  That  she  was.  And  in  such  pleasant  earnest, 
moreover,  that  Tom's  attention  wandered  from  his  writing 
every  moment.  First,  she  tripped  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen 
for  the  flour,  then  for  the  pie-board,  then  for  the  eggs,  then 
for  the  butter,  then  for  a  jug  of  water,  then  for  the  rolling-pin, 
then  for  a  pudding-basin,  then  for  the  pepper,  then  for  the 
salt;  making  a  separate  journey  for  every  thing,  and  laugh- 
ing every  time  she  started  off  afresh.  When  all  the  materials 
were  collected,  she  was  horrified  to  fmd  she  had  no  apron  on, 
and  so  ran  ///  stairs,  by  way  of  variety,  to  fetch  it.  She 
didn't  put  it  on  up-stairs,  but  came  dancing  down  with  it  in 
her  hand;  and  being  one  of  those  little  women  to  whom  an 
apron  is  a  most  becoming  little  vanity,  it  took  an  immense 
time  to  arrange;  having    to   be    carefully  smoothed    down 


6oo  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

beneath — Oh,  heaven,  what  a  wicked  little  stomacher  !  and 
to  be  gathered  up  into  little  plaits  by  the  strings  before  it 
could  be  tied,  and  to  be  tapped,  rebuked,  and  wheedled,  at 
the  pockets,  before  it  would  set  right,  which  at  last  it  did, 
and  when  it  did — but  never  mind;  this  is  a  sober  chronicle. 
And  then,  there  were  her  cuffs  to  be  tucked  up,  for  fear  of 
flour;  and  she  had  a  little  ring  to  pull  off  her  finger,  which 
wouldn't  come  off  (foolish  little  ring  !)  and  during  the  whole 
of  these  preparations  she  looked  demurely  every  now  and 
then  at  Tom,  from  under  her  dark  eye-lashes,  as  if  they 
were  all  a  part  of  the  pudding,  and  indispensable  to  its  com- 
position. 

For  the  life  and  soul  of  him  Tom  could  get  no  further  in 
his  writing  than,  *'  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty- 
five,"  and  this,  notwithstanding  the  show  she  made  of  being 
supernaturally  quiet,  and  going  about  on  tiptoe,  lest  she 
should  disturb  him;  which  only  served  as  an  additional 
means  of  distracting  his  attention,  and   keeping  it  upon  her. 

*'  Tom,"  she  said  at  last  in  high  glee.     '*  Tom  !  " 

"  What  now  ? "  said  Tom,  repeating  to  himself,  "aged 
thirty-five  !  " 

"  Will  you  look  here  a  moment,  please  ?  " 

As  if  he  hadn't  been  looking  all  the  time  I 

"  I  am  going  to  begin,  Tom.  Don't  you  wonder  why  I 
butter  the  inside  of  the  basin  ? "  said  his  busy  little  sister. 

"  Not  more  than  you  do,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Tom,  laugh- 
ing.    **  Fori  believe  you  don't  know  any  thing  about  it." 

*'  What  an  infidel  you  are,  Tom  !  How  else  do  you  think 
it  would  turn  out  easily  when  it  was  done  ?  For  a  civil- 
engineer  and  land-surveyor  not  to  know  that  !  My  good- 
ness, Tom  ! " 

It  was  wholly  out  of  the  question  to  try  to  write.  Tom 
lined  out  '*  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five ;  " 
and  sat  looking  on,  pen  in  hand,  with  one  of  the  most  loving 
smiles  imaginable. 

Such  a  busy  little  woman  as  she  was  !  So  full  of  self- 
importance,  and  trying  so  hard  not  to  smile,  or  seem  uncer- 
tain about  any  thing  !  It  was  a  perfect  treat  to  I'om  to  see 
her  with  her  brows  knit,  and  her  rosy  lips  pursed  up,  knead- 
ing away  at  the  crust,  rolling  it  out,  cutting  it  up  into 
strips,  lining  the  basin  with  it,  shaving  it  off  fine  round  the 
rim,  chopping  up  the  stake  into  small  pieces,  raining  doAvn 
pepper  and  salt  upon  them,  packing  them  into  the  basin, 
pouring  in  cold  water   for  gravy,  and   never   venturing    to 


MARTlxN  CHUZZLEWIT.  60 1 

steal  a  look  in  his  direction,  lest  her  gravity  should  be  dis- 
turbed; until,  at  last,  the  basin  being  quite  full  and  only 
wanting  the  top  crust,  she  clapped  her  hands  all  covered 
with  paste  and  flour,  at  Tom,  and  burst  out  heartily  into 
such  a  charming  little  laugh  of  triumph,  that  the  pudding 
need  have  had  no  other  seasoning  to  commend  it  to  the 
taste  of  any  reasonable  man  on  earth, 

*'  Where's  the  pudding  ? ''  said  Tom.  For  he  was  cutting 
his  jokes,  Tom  was. 

"  Where  ?  "  she  answered,  holding  it  up  with   both  hands.- 
"  Look  at  it  !  " 

"  2 hat  a  pudding  !  "  said  Tom. 

"  It  will  be,  you  stupid  fellow,  when  it's  covered  in," 
returned  his  sister.  Tom  still  pretending  to  look  incredu- 
lous, she  gave  him  a  tap  on  the  head  with  the  rolling-pin, 
and  still  laughing  merrily,  had  returned  to  the  composition 
of  the  top  crust,  when  she  started  and  turned  very  red.  Tom 
started,  too,  for  following  her  eyes,  he  saw  John  Westlock  in 
the  room. 

"  Why,  my  goodness,  John  !     How  did  jw/r  come  in  ?  " 

**  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  John — "your  sister's  pardon 
especially — but  I  met  an  old  lady  at  the  street  door,  who 
requested  me  to  enter  here;  and  as  you  didn't  hear  me 
knock,  and  the  door  was  open,  I  made  bold  to  do  so.  I 
hardly  know,"  said  John,  with  a  smile,  "why  any  of  us 
should  be  disconcerted  at  my  having  accidentally  intruded 
upon  such  an  agreeable  domestic  occupation,  so  very  agree- 
able and  skillfully  pursued;  but  I  must  confess  that  /  am. 
Tom,  will  you  kindly  come  to  my  relief  ?  " 

"  Mr.  John  Westlock,"  said  Tom.     "  My  sister." 

"  I  hope,  that  as  the  sister  of  so  old  a  friend,"  said  John, 
laughing,  "  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  detach  your  first 
impressions  of  me  from  my  unfortunate  entrance." 

"  My  sister  is  not  indisposed  perhaps  to  say  the  same  to 
you  on  her  own  behalf,"  retorted  Tom. 

John  said,  of  course,  that  this  was  quite  unnecessary,  for  he 
had  been  transfixed  in  silent  admiration;  and  he  held  out  his 
hand  to  Miss  Pinch  ;  who  couldn't  take  it,  however,  by  rea- 
son of  the  flour  and  paste  upon  her  own.  This,  which 
might  seem  calculated  to  increase  the  general  confusion 
and  render  matters  worse,  had  in  reality  the  best  effect  in 
the  world,  for  neither  of  them  could  help  laughing  ;  and  so 
they  both  found  themselves  on  easy  terms  immediately. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Tom.     "  Sit  down." 


6o2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  I  can  only  think  of  sitting  down,  on  one  condition,"  re- 
turned his  friend  :  *'  and  that  is  that  your  sister  goes  on  with 
the  pudding,  as  if  you  were  still  alone." 

**  That  I  am  sure  she  will,"  said  Tom.  *'  On  one  other 
condition,  and  that  is,  that  you  stay  and  help  us  to  eat  it." 

Poor  little  Ruth  was  seized  with  a  palpitation  of  the 
heart  when  Tom  committed  this  appalling  indiscretion,  for 
she  felt  that  if  the  dish  turned  out  a  failure,  she  never  would 
be  able  to  hold  up  her  head  before  John  Westlock  again. 
Quite  unconscious  of  her  state  of  mind,  John  accepted  the 
invitation  with  all  imaginable  heartiness  ;  and  after  a 
little  more  pleasantry  concerning  this  same  pudding,  and 
the  tremendous  expectations  he  made  believe  to  entertain 
of  it,  she  blushingly  resumed  her  occupation,  and  he  took  a 
chair. 

"  I  am  here  much  earlier  than  I  intended,  Tom  ;  but  I 
will  tell  you  what  brings  me,  and  I  think  I  can  answer  for 
your  being  glad  to  hear  it.  Is  that  any  thing  you  wish  to 
show  me  ? " 

''  Oh  dear  no  !  "  cried  Tom,  who  had  forgotten  the  blotted 
scrap  of  paper  in  his  hand,  until  this  inquiry  brought  it  to 
his  recollection.  *' '  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty- 
five  ' — The  beginning  of  a  description  of  myself.  That's  all." 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  have  occasion  to  finish  it,  Tom. 
But  how  is  it  you  never  told  me  you  had  friends  in  London  ?  " 

Tom  looked  at  his  sister  with  all  his  might  ;  and  certainly 
his  sister  looked  with  all  her  might  at  him. 

"  Friends  in  London  !  "  echoed  Tom. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Westlock,  "  to  be  sure." 

"  Have  you  any  friends  in  London,  Ruth,  my  dear  ?  " 
asked  Tom. 

''  No,  Tom." 

*'  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  that  /  have,"  said  Tom,  "  but 
it's  news  to  me.  I  never  knew  it.  They  must  be  capital 
people  to  keep  a  secret,  John." 

"  You  shall  judge  for  yourself,"  returned  the  other.  **  Se- 
riously, Tom,  here  is  the  plain  state  of  the  case.  As  I  was 
sitting  at  breakfast  this  morning,  there  comes  a  knock  at 
my  door." 

''  On  which  you  cried  out,  very  loud,  *  Come  in  !  '"  sug- 
gested Tom. 

**  So  I  did.  And  the  person  who  knocked,  not  being  a  re- 
spectable young  man,  aged  thirty-five,  from  the  country, 
came  in  when  he  was  invited,  instead  of  standing  gaping  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  603 

staring  about  him  on  the  landing.  Well  !  When  he  came 
in  I  found  he  was  a  stranger  ;  a  grave,  business-like,  sedate- 
looking,  stranger.  *  Mr.  Westlock  ? '  said  he.  '  That  is  my 
name,'  said  I.  *  The  favor  of  a  few  words  with  you  ?  *  said 
he.     '  Pray  be  seated,  sir,'  said  I." 

Here  John  stopped  for  an  instant,  to   glance  toward   the 
table,  where  Tom's  sister,  listening  attentively,  was  still  busy 
with  the  basin,  which  by  this  time  made  a  noble  appearance.* 
Then  he  resumed  : 

''  The  pudding  having  taken  a  chair,  Tom  " — 

"What  !"  cried  Tom. 

"  Having  taken  a  chair." 

"  You  said  a  pudding." 

"  No,  no,"  replied  John,  coloring  rather  ;  "  a  chair.  The 
idea  of  a  stranger  coming  into  my  rooms  at  half-past  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  taking  a  pudding  !  Having 
taken  a  chair,  Tom,  a  chair — amazed  me  by  opening  the  con- 
versation thus  :  *  I  believe  you  are  acquainted,  sir,  with  Mr. 
Thomas  Pinch  ? '  " 

"  No  !  "  cried  Tom. 

**  His  very  words,  I  assure  you.  I  told  him  I  was.  Did 
I  know  where  you  were  at  present  residing  ?  Yes.  In  Lon- 
don ?  Yes.  He  had  casually  heard,  in  a  roundabout  way, 
that  you  had  left  your  situation  with  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Was 
that  the  fact  ?  Yes,  it  was.  Did  you  want  another  ?  Yes, 
you  did." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Tom,  nodding  his  head. 

"  Just  what  I  impressed  upon  him.  You  may  rest  assured 
that  I  set  that  point  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  mistake, 
and  gave  him  distinctly  to  understand  that  he  might  make 
up  his  mind  about  it.     Very  well." 

"  *  Then,'  said  he,  *  I  think  I  can  accommodate  him.' 

Tom's  sister  stopped  short. 

"  Lord  bless  me  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Ruth,  my  dear,  *  think 
I  can  accommodate  him.'  " 

"  Of  course  I  begged  him,"  pursued  John  Westlock, 
glancing  at  Tom's  sister,  who  was  not  less  eager  in  her 
interest  than  Tom  himself,  ''  to  proceed  and  said  that  I  would 
undertake  to  see  you  immediately.  He  replied  that  he  had 
very  little  to  say,  being  a  man  of  few  words,  but  such  as  it 
was,  it  was  to  the  purpose — and  so,  indeed,  it  turned  out, 
— for  he  immediately  went  on  to  teii  me  that  a  friend  of  his 
was  in  want  of  a  kind  of  secretary  and  librarian  ;  and  that 
although  the  salary  was  small,  being  only  a  hundred  pounds 


>  >• 


6o4  MARTIN  CFiUZZLEWIT. 

a  year,  with  neither  board  nor  lodging,  still  the  duties  were 
not  heavy,  and  there  the  post  was.  Vacant,  and  ready  for 
your  acceptance." 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom  ;  "  a  hundred  pounds 
a  year !  My  dear  John !  Ruth,  my  love.  A  hundred 
pounds  a  year  !  " 

''  But  the  strangest  part  of  the  story,"  resumed  John  West- 
lock,  laying  his  hand  on  Tom's  wrist,  to  bespeak  his  atten- 
tion, and  repress  his  ecstasies  for  the  moment ;  **  the  strangest 
part  of  the  story,  Miss  Pinch,  is  this.  I  don't  know  this 
man  from  Adam  ;  neither  does  this  man  know  Tom." 

"He  can't,"  said  Tom,  in  great  perplexity,  "if  he's  a 
Londoner.     I  don't  know  any  one  in  London." 

"And  on  my  observing,"  John  resumed,  still  keeping  his 
hand  upon  Tom's  wrist,  "  that  I  had  no  doubt  he  would 
excuse  the  freedom  I  took,  in  inquiring  who  directed  him  to 
me  ;  how  he  came  to  know  of  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  my  friend's  position  ;  and  how  he  came  to  be 
acquainted  with  my  friend's  peculiar  fitness  for  such  an 
office  as  he  had  described  ;  he  dryly  said  that  he  was  not  at 
liberty  to  enter  into  any  explanations." 

"  Not  at  liberty  to  enter  into  any  explanations  !  "  repeated 
Tom,  drawing  a  long  breath." 

" '  I  must  be  perfectly  aware,'  he  said,"  John  added, 
" '  that  to  any  person  who  had  ever  been  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
neighborhood,  Mr.  Thomas  Pinch  and  his  acquirements  were 
as  vv^ell  known  as   the  church  steeple  or  the  Blue   Dragon.'  " 

"  The  Blue  Dragon  !  "  repeated  Tom,  staring  alternately 
at  his  friend  and  his  sister. 

"  Ay  ;  think  of  that  !  He  spoke  as  familiarly  of  the  Blue 
Dragon,  I  give  you  my  word,  as  if  he  had  been  Mark  Tap- 
ley.  I  opened  my  eyes,  I  can  tell  you,  when  he  did  so  ;  but 
I  could  not  fancy  I  had  ever  seen  the  man  before,  although 
he  said  with  a  smile,  'you  know  the  Blue  Dragon,  Mr.  West- 
lock  ;  you  kept  it  up  there,  once  or  twice,  yourself.'  Kept 
it  up  there  !     So  I  did.     You  remember,  Tom  ? " 

Tom  nodded  with  great  significance,  and,  falling  into  a 
state  of  deeper  perplexity  than  before,  observed  that  this 
was  the  most  unaccountable  and  extraordinary  circumstance 
he  had  ever  heard  of  in  his  life. 

"  Unaccountable  !  "  his  friend  repeated.  "  I  became 
afraid  of  the  man.  Though  it  was  broad  day,  and  briglit 
sunshine,  I  was  positively  afraid  of  him.  I  declare  I  half 
suspected  him  to  be  a  supernatural  visitor,  and  not  a  mortal, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  605 

until  he  took  out  a  common-place  description  of  pocket- book^ 
and  handed  me  this  card." 

'*  Mr.  Fips,"  said  Tom,  reading  it  aloud.  "  Austin  Friars 
Austin  Friars  sounds  ghostly,  John." 

**  Fips  don't,  I  think,"  was  John's  reply.  **  But  there  he 
lives,  Tom,  and  there  he  expects  us  to  call  this  morning. 
And  now  you  know  as  much  of  this  strange  incident  as  I  do, 
upon  my  honor." 

Tom's  face,  between  his  exultation  in  the  hundred  pounds 
a  year,  and  his  wonder  at  this  narration,  was  only  to  be 
equaled  by  the  face  of  his  sister,  on  which  there  sat  the  very 
best  expression  of  blooming  surprise  that  any  painter  could 
have  wished  to  see.  What  the  beefsteak-pudding  would  have 
come  to,  if  it  had  not  been  by  this  time  finished,  astrology 
itself  could  hardly  determine. 

"Tom,"  said  Ruth,  after  a  little  hesitation,  "perhaps  Mr. 
Westlock,  in  his  friendship  for  you,  knows  more  of  this  man 
than  he  chooses  to  tell." 

**  No,  indeed!"  cried  John,  eagerly.  "It  is  not  so,  I 
assure  you.  I  wish  it  were.  I  can  not  take  credit  to  myself, 
Miss  Pinch,  for  any  such  thing.  All  that  I  know,  or,  so  far 
as  I  can  judge,  am  likely  to  know,  I  have  told  you." 

"Couldn't  you  know  more,  if  you  thought  proper?"  said 
Ruth,  scraping  the  pie-board  industriously. 

"  No,"  retorted  John.  "  Indeed,  no.  It  is  very  ungener- 
ous in  you  to  be  so  suspicious  of  me  when  I  repose  implicit 
faith  in  you.  I  have  unbounded  confidence  in  the  pudding. 
Miss  Pinch." 

She  laughed  at  this,  but  they  soon  got  back  into  a  sen'ous 
vein,  and  discussed  the  subject  with  profound  gravity. 
Whatever  else  was  obscure  in  the  business,  it  appeared  to  be 
quite  plain  that  Tom  was  offered  a  salary  of  one  hundred 
pounds  a  year  ;  and  this  being  the  main  point,  the  surround- 
ing obscurity  rather  set  it  off  than  otherwise. 

Tom,  being  in  a  great  flutter,  wished  to  start  for  Austin 
Friars  instantly,  but  they  waited  nearly  an  hour,  by  John's 
advice,  before  they  departed.  Tom  made  himself  as  spruce 
as  he  could  before  leaving  home,  and  when  John  Westlock, 
through  the  half-opened  parlor  door,  had  glimpses  of  that 
brave  little  sister  brushing  the  collar  of  his  coat  in  the 
passage,  taking  up  loose  stitches  in  his  gloves,  and  hovering 
lightly  about  and  about  him,  touching  him  up  here  and 
there  in  the  height  of  her  quaint,  little,  old-fashioned  tidi- 
ness, he  called  to  mind  the  fancy  portraits  of  her  on  the 


(3o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

wall  of  the  Pecksniffian  work-room,  and  decided  with 
uncommon  indignation  that  they  were  gross  libels,  and  not 
half  pretty  enough  ;  though,  as  hath  been  mentioned  in  its 
place,  the  artists  always  made  those  sketches  beautiful,  and 
he  had  drawn  at  least  a  score  of  them  with  his  own  hands. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  as  they  were  walking  along,  "  I  begin  to 
think  you  must  be  somebody's  son." 

'*  I  suppose  I  am,"  Tom  answered  in  his  quiet  way. 

**  But  I  mean  somebody's  of  consequence." 

*'  Bless  your  heart,"  replied  Tom,  "  my  poor  father  was  of 
no  consequence,  nor  my  mother  either." 

**  You  remember  them  perfectly,  then  ?  " 

"  Remember  them  ?  oh  dear  yes.  My  poor  mother  was 
the  last.  She  died  when  Ruth  was  a  mere  baby,  and  then 
we  both  became  a  charge  upon  the  savings  of  that  good 
old  grandmother  I  used  to  tell  you  of.  You  remember  ! 
Oh  !     There's  nothing  romantic  in  our  history,  John." 

*'  Very  well,"  said  John,  in  quiet  despair.  "  Then  there 
is  no  way  of  accounting  for  my  visitor  of  this  morning.  So 
we'll  not  try,  Tom." 

They  did  try,  notwithstanding,  and  never  left  off  trying 
until  they  got  to  Austin  Friars,  where  in  a  very  dark  pas- 
sage on  the  first  floor,  oddly  situated  at  the  back  of  a  house, 
across  some  leads,  they  found  a  little  blear-eyed  glass  door 
up  in  one  corner,  with  Mr.  Fips  painted  on  it  in  characters 
which  were  meant  to  be  transparent.  There  was  also  a 
wicked  old  side-board  hiding  in  the  gloom  hard  by,  medi- 
tating designs  upon  the  ribs  of  visitors  ;  and  an  old  mat, 
worn  into  lattice-work,  which,  being  useless  as  a  mat 
(even  if  any  body  could  have  seen  it,  which  was  impossible), 
had  for  many  years  directed  its  industry  into  another 
channel,  and  regularly  tripped  up  every  one  of  Mr.  Fips's 
clients. 

Mr.  Fips,  hearing  a  violent  concussion  between  a  human 
hat  and  his  office  door,  was  apprised,  by  the  usual  means  of 
communication,  that  somebody  had  come  to  call  upon  hmi, 
and  giving  that  somebody  admission,  observed  that  it  was 
"  rather  dark." 

"  Dark  indeed,"  John  whispered  in  Tom  Pinch's  ear. 
"  Not  a  bad  place  to  dispose  of  a  countryman  in,  I  should 
think,  Tom." 

Tom  had  been  already  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  possi- 
bility of  their  having  been  tempted  into  that  region  to  fur- 
nish forth  a  pie  ;  but  the   sight  of  Mr.  Fips,  who  was  small 


I     I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  607 

and  spare,  and  looked  peaceable,  and  wore  black  shorts  and 
powder,  dispelled  his  doubts. 

"  Walk  in,"  said  Mr.  Fips. 

They  walked  in.  And  a  mighty  yellow-jaundiced  little 
office  Mr.  Fips  had  of  it  :  with  a  great,  black,  sprawling 
splash  upon  the  floor  in  one  corner,  as  if  some  old  clerk  had 
cut  his  throat  there,  years  ago,  and  had  let  out  ink  instead 
of  blood. 

*'  I  have  brought  my  friend  Mr.  Pinch,  sir,"  said  John 
Westlock. 

"  Be  pleased  to  sit,"  said    Mr.  Fips. 

They  occupied  the  two  chairs,  and  Mr.  Fips  took  the 
office  stool,  from  the  stuffing  whereof  he  drew  forth  a  piece 
of  horse-hair  of  immense  length,  which  he  put  into  his  mouth 
with  a  great  appearance  of  appetite. 

He  looked  at  Tom  Pinch  curiously,  but  with  an  entire 
freedom  from  any  such  expression  as  could  be  reasonably 
construed  into  an  unusual  display  of  interest.  After  a  short 
silence,  during  which  Mr.  Fips  was  so  perfectly  unembar- 
rassed as  to  render  it  manifest  that  he  could  have  broken 
it  sooner  without  hesitation,  if  he  had  felt  inclined  to  do 
so,  he  asked  if  Mr.  Westlock  had  made  his  offer  fully  known 
to  Mr.   Pinch. 

John  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

*'  And  you  think  it  worth  your  while,  sir,  do  you  ?"  Mr. 
Fips  inquired  of  Tom. 

"I  think  it  a  piece  of  great  good  fortune,  sir,"  said  Tom. 
"  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  the  offer." 

"  Not  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Fips.     "I  act  upon   instructions.'' 

"  To  your  friend,  sir,  then,"  said  Tom.  *'  To  the  gentle- 
man with  whom  I  am  to  engage,  and  whose  confidence  I 
shall  endeavor  to  deserve.  When  he  knows  me  better,  sir, 
I  hope  he  will  not  lose  his  good  opinion  of  me.  He  will  find 
me  punctual  and  vigilant,  and  anxious  to  do  what  is  right. 
That  I  think  I  can  answer  for,  and  so,"  looking  toward  him, 
**can  Mr.  Westlock." 

"  Most  assuredly,"  said  John. 

Mr.  Fips  appeared  to  have  some  little  difficulty  in  resum- 
ing the  conversation.  To  relieve  himself,  he  took  up  the 
wafer-stamp,  and  began  stamping  capital  F's  all  over  his 
legs. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  '*  that  my  friend  is  not,  at 
this  present  moment,  in  town." 

Tom's  countenance  fell  ;    for  he  thought   this  equivalent 


6o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  i 

to  telling  him  that  his  appearance  did  not  answer ;  and  that 
Fips  must  look  out  for  somebody  else. 

''  When  do  you  think  he  will  be  in  town,  sir,"  he  asked. 

*'  I  can't  say  ;  it's  impossible  to  tell.  I  really  have  no 
idea.  But,"  said  Fips,  taking  off  a  very  deep  impression  of 
the  v/afer-stamp  upon  the  calf  of  his  left  leg,  and  looking 
steadily  at  Tom,  "  I  don't  know  that  it's  a  matter  of  much 
consequence." 

Poor  Tom  inclined  his  head  deferentially,  but  appeared 
to  doubt  that. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Mr.  Fips,  "  that  I  don't  know  it's  a  mat- 
ter of  much  consequence.  The  business  lies  entirely  between 
yourself  and  me,  Mr.  Pinch.  With  reference  to  your  duties 
I  can  set  you  going  ;  and  with  reference  to  your  salary,  1 
can  pay  it.  Weekly,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  putting  down  the 
wafer-stamp,  and  looking  at  John  Westlock  and  Tom  Pinch 
by  turns  ;  ''  weekly  ;  in  this  office  ;  at  any  time  between  the 
hours  of  four  and  five  in  the  afternoon."  As  Mr.  Fips  said 
this,  he  made  up  his  face  as  if  he  were  going  to  whistle. 
But  he  didn't.* 

*'  You  are  very  good,"  said  Tom,  whose  countenance  was 
now  suffused  with  pleasure  :  "  and  nothing  can  be  more  sat- 
isfactory or  straightforward.  My  attendance  will  be 
required — " 

"  From  half-past  nine  to  four  o'clock  or  so,  I  should  say," 
interrupted  Mr.  Fips.     "  About  that." 

"  I  did  not  mean  the  hours  of  attendance,"  retorted  Tom, 
"  which  are  light  and  easy,  I  am  sure  ;  but  the  place." 

*'  Oh,  the  place  !  The  place  is  in  the  Temple." 

Tom  was  delighted. 

''Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  **you  would  like  to  seethe 
place?" 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  cried  Tom.  **  I  shall  only  be  too  glad  to 
consider  myself  engaged,  if  you  will  allow  me  ;  without  any 
further  reference  to  the  place." 

''  You  may  consider  yourself  engaged,  by  all  means,"  said 
Mr.  Fips  ;  "  you  couldn't  meet  me  at  the  Temple  Gate  in 
Fleet  Street,  in  an  hour  from  this  time,  I  suppose,  could 
you  ? " 

Certainly  Tom  could. 

"  Good,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  rising.  "  Then  I  will  show  you 
the  place  ;  and  you  can  begin  your  attendance  to-morrow 
morning.  In  an  hour,  therefore,  I  shall  see  you.  You  too, 
Mr.  Westlock  ?  Very  good.  Take  care  how  you  go.  It's 
rather  dark." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  609 

With  this  remark,  which  seemed  superfluous,  he  shut  them 
out  upon  the  staircase,  and  they  groped  their  way  into  the 
street  again. 

The  interview  had  done  so  little  to  remove  the  mystery  in 
which  Tom's  new  engagement  was  involved,  and  had  done 
so  much  to  thicken  it,  that  neither  could  help  smiling  at  the 
puzzled  looks  of  the  other.  They  agreed,  however,  that  the 
introduction  of  Tom  to  his  new  office  and  office  companions 
could  hardly  fail  to  throw  a  light  upon  the  subject  ;  and 
therefore  postponed  its  further  consideration  until  after  the 
fulfillment  of  the  appointment  they  had  made  with  Mr.  Tips. 

After  looking  at  John  Westlock's  chambers,  and  devoting 
a  few  spare  minutes  to  the  Boar's  Head,  they  issued  forth 
again  to  the  place  of  meeting.  The  time  agreed  upon,  had 
not  quite  come  ;  but  Mr.  Tips  was  already  at  the  Temple 
Gate,  and  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  their  punctuality. 

He  led  the  way  through  sundry  lanes  and  courts,  into  one 
more  quiet  and  more  gloomy  than  the  rest,  and,  singling  out 
a  certain  house,  ascended  a  common  staircase,  taking  from 
his  pocket,  as  he  went,  a  bunch  of  rusty  keys.  Stopping 
before  a  door  upon  an  upper  story,  which  had  nothing  but  a 
yellow  smear  of  paint  where  custom  would  have  placed  the 
tenant's  name,  he  began  to  beat  the  dust  out  of  one  of  these 
keys,  very  deliberately,  upon  the  great  broad  hand-rail  of 
the  balustrade. 

"  You  had  better  have  a  little  plug  made,"  he  said  looking 
round  at  Tom,  after  blowing  a  shrill  whistle  into  the  barrel 
of  the  key.  ^'  It's  the  only  way  of  preventing  them  from 
getting  stopped  up.  You'll  find  the  lock  go  the  better,  too, 
I  dare  say,  for  a  little  oil." 

Tom  thanked  him  ;  but  was  too  much  occupied  with  his 
own  speculations,  and  John  Westlock's  looks,  to  be  very 
talkative.  In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Fips  opened  the  door,  which 
yielded  to  his  hand  very  unwillingly,  and  with  a  horribly 
discordant  sound.  He  took  the  key  out  when  he  had  done 
so,  and  gave  it  to  Tom. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  "  said  Mr.  Fips.  "  The  dust  lies  rather  thick 
here." 

Truly,  it  did.  Mr.  Fips  might  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say 
very  thick.  It  had  accumulated  everywhere ;  lay  deep  on 
every  thing,  and  in  one  part  where  a  ray  of  sun  shone 
through  a  crevice  in  the  shutter  and  struck  upon  the  oppo- 
site wall,  it  went  twirling  round  and  round,  like  a  gigantic 
squirrel-cage. 


6io  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Dust  was  the  only  thing  in  the  place  that  had  any  motion 
about  it.  When  their  conductor  admitted  the  light  freely, 
and  lifting  up  the  heavy  window-sash,  let  in  the  summer  air, 
he  showed  the  moldering  furniture,  discolored  wainscoting 
and  ceiling,  rusty  stove,  and  ashy  hearth,  in  all  their  inert 
neglect.  Close  to  the  door,  there  stood  a  candlestick,  with 
an  extinguisher  upon  it;  as  if  the  last  man  who  had  been 
there  had  paused,  after  securing  a  retreat,  to  take  a  parting 
look  at  the  dreariness  he  left  behind,  and  then  had  shut 
out  light  and  life  together,  and  closed  the  place  up  like  a 
tomb. 

There  were  two  rooms  on  that  floor;  and  in  the  first  or 
outer  one  a  narrow  staircase,  leadmg  to  two  more  above. 
These  last  were  fitted  up  as  bed-chambers.  Neitlier  in 
them,  nor  in  the  rooms  below,  was  any  scarcity  of  convenient 
furniture  observable,  although  the  fittings  were  of  a  by- 
gone fashion;  but  solitude  and  want  of  use  seemed  to  have 
rendered  it  unfit  for  any  purposes  of  comfort,  and  to  have 
given  it  a  grisly,  haunted  air. 

Movables  of  every  kind  lay  strewn  about,  without  the 
least  attempt  at  order,  and  were  intermixed  with  boxes, 
hampers,  and  all  sorts  of  lumber.  On  all  the  floors  were 
piles  of  books,  to  the  amount,  perhaps,  of  some  thousands 
of  volumes;  these,  still  in  bales;  those,  wrapped  in  paper, 
as  they  had  been  purchased;  others  scattered  singly  or  in 
heaps;  not  one  upon  the  shelves  which  lined  the  walls.  To 
these,  Mr.  Fips  called  Tom's  attention. 

"  Before  any  thing  else  can  be  done,  we  must  have  them 
put  in  order,  catalogued,  and  ranged  upon  the  book-shelves, 
Mr.   Pinch.     That  will  do  to  begin  with,  I  think,  sir." 

Tom  rubbed  his  hands  in  the  pleasant  anticipation  of  a 
task  so  congenial  to  his  taste,  and  said: 

*'  An  occupation  full  of  interest  for  me,  I  assure  you.  It 
will  occupy  me,  perhaps,  until  Mr. " 

''  Until  Mr. "  repeated  Fips;  as  much  as  to  ask  Tom 

what  he  was  stopping  for. 

"  I  forgot  that  you  had  not  mentioned  the  gentleman's 
name,"  said  Tom. 

'*  Oh  !  "  cried  Mr.  Fips,  pulling  on  his  glove,  "didn't  I  ? 
No,  by-the-by,  I  don't  think  I  did.  Ah  !  I  dare  say  he'll  be 
here  soon.  You  will  get  on  very  well  together,  I  have  no  doubt. 
I  wish  you  success,  I  am  sure.  You  won't  forget  to  shut 
the  door  ?  It'll  lock  of  itself  if  you  slam  it.  Half-past  nine, 
you  know.     Let  us  say  from  half-past  nine  to  four,  or  half- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  6ii 

past  four,  or  thereabouts;  one  day,  perhaps,  a  little  earlier, 
another  day,  perhaps,  a  little  later,  according  as  you  feel 
disposed,  and  as  you  arrange  your  work.  Mr.  Fips,  Austin 
Friars,  of  course  you'll  remember  ?  And  you  won't  forget 
to  slam  the  door,  if  you  please  ?  " 

He  said  all  this  in  such  a  comfortable,  easy  manner,  that 
Tom  could  only  rub  his  hands,  and  nod  his  head,  and  smile 
in  acquiescence,  which  he  was  still  doing  when  Mr.  Fips 
walked  coolly  out. 

**  Why,  he's  gone  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  And  what's  more,  Tom,"  said  John  Westlock,  seating 
himself  upon  a  pile  of  books,  and  looking  up  at  his  aston- 
ished friend,  "he  is  evidently  not  coming  back  again;  so 
here  you  are  installed.  Under  rather  singular  circum- 
stances, Tom  !  " 

It  was  such  an  odd  affair  throughout,  and  Tom  standing 
there  among  the  books  with  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  the 
key  in  the  other,  looked  so  prodigiously  confounded,  that 
his  friend  could  not  h^lp  laughing  heartily.  Tom  himself 
was  tickled:  no  less  by  the  hilarity  of  his  friend,  than  by  the 
recollection  of  the  sudden  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
brought  to  a  stop,  in  the  height  of  his  urbane  conference 
with  Mr.  Fips;  so,  by  degrees  Tom  burst  out  laughing  too; 
and  each  making  the  other  laugh  more,  they  fairly  roared. 

When  they  had  had  their  laugh  out,  which  did  not  happen 
very  soon,  for,  give  John  an  inch  that  way,  and  he  was  sure 
to  take  several  ells,  being  a  jovial,  good  tempered  fellow, 
they  looked  about  them  more  closely,  groping  among  the  lum- 
ber for  any  stray  means  of  enlightenment  that  might  turn  up. 
But  no  scrap  or  shred  of  information  could  they  find.  The 
books  were  marked  with  a  variety  of  owners'  names,  having  no 
doubt  been  bought  at  sales,  and  collected  here  and  there  at 
different  times;  but  whether  any  one  of  the  names  belonged 
to  Tom's  employer,  and,  if  so,  which  of  them,  they  had  no 
means  whatever  of  determining.  It  occurred  to  John  as  a 
very  bright  thought,  to  make  inquiry  at  the  steward's  office, 
to  whom  the  chambers  belonged,  or  by  whom  they  were 
held;  but  he  came  back  no  wiser  than  he  went,  the  answer 
being,  "  Mr.  Fips,  of  Austin  Friars  !  " 

"  After  all,  Tom,  I  begin  to  think  it  lies  no  deeper  than 
this.  Fips  is  an  eccentric  man;  has  some  knowledge  of 
Pecksniff ;  despises  him,  of  course;  has  heard  or  seen 
enough  of  you  to  know  that  you  are  the  man  he  wants;  and 
engages  you  in  his  own  whimsical  manner." 


612  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  But  why  in  his  own  whimsical  manner  ? "  asked  Tom. 

"  Oh  !  why  does  any  man  entertain  his  own  whimsical 
taste  ?  Why  does  Mr,  Fips  wear  shorts  and  powder,  and 
Mr.  Fips's  next-door  neighbor  boots  and  a  wig  ?  " 

Tom,  being  in  that  state  of  mind  in  which  any  explana- 
tion is  a  great  relief,  adopted  this  last  one  (which  indeed  was 
quite  as  feasible  as  any  other),  readily,  and  said  he  had  no 
doubt  of  it.  Nor  was  his  faith  at  all  shaken  by  his  having 
said  exactly  the  same  thing  to  each  suggestion  of  his  friend's 
in  turn,  and  being  perfectly  ready  to  say  it  again  if  he  had 
any  new  solution  to  propose. 

As  he  had  not,  Tom  drew  down  the  winaow-sash,  and 
folded  the  shutter,  and  they  left  the  rooms.  He  closed  the 
door  heavily,  as  Mr.  Fips  had  desired  him;  tried  it,  found  it 
all  fast,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

They  made  a  pretty  wide  circuit  in  going  back  to  Isling- 
ton, as  they  had  time  to  spare,  and  Tom  was  never  tired  of 
looking  about  him.  It  was  well  he  had  John  Westlock  for 
his  companion,  for  most  people  would  have  been  weary  of 
his  perpetual  stoppages  at  shop-windows,  and  his  frequent 
dashes  into  the  crowded  carriage-way  at  the  peril  of  his  life, 
to  get  the  better  view  of  church  steeples,  and  other  public 
buildings.  But  John  was  charmed  to  see  him  so  much 
interested,  and  every  time  Tom  came  back  w4th  a  beaming 
face  from  among  the  wheels  of  carts  and  hackney-coaches, 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  personal  congratulations  addressed 
to  him  by  the  drivers,  John  seemed  to  like  him  better  then 
before. 

There  was  no  flour  on  Ruth's  hands  when  she  received 
them  in  the  triangular  parlor,  but  there  were  pleasant  smiles 
upon  her  face,  and  a  crowd  of  welcomes  shining  out  of  every 
smile,  and  gleaming  in  her  bright  eyes.  By-the-by,  how 
bright  they  were  !  Looking  into  them  for  but  a  moment, 
when  you  took  her  hand,  you  saw,  in  each,  such  a  capital 
miniature  of  yourself,  representing  you  as  such  a  restless, 
flashing,  eager,  brilliant  little  fellow — 

Ah  !  if  you  could  only  have  kept  them  for  your  own  min- 
iature !  But  wicked,  roving,  restless,  too  impartial  eyes,  it 
was  enough  for  any  one  to  stand  before  them,  and  straight- 
way, there  he  danced  and  sparkled  quite  as  merrily  as  you  ! 

The  table  was  already  spread  for  dinner;  and  though  it 
was  spread  with  nothing  very  choice  in  the  way  of  glass  or 
linen,  and  with  green-handled  knives,  and  very  mountebanks 
of    two-pronged    forks,  which  seemed   to  be  trying  how  far 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  613 

asunder  they  could  possibly  stretch  their  legs,  without  con- 
verting themselves  into  double  the  number  of  iron  tooth- 
picks, it  wanted  neither  damask,  silver,  gold,  nor  china — no, 
nor  any  other  garniture  at  all.  There  it  was — and  being 
there,  nothing  else  would  have  done  as  well. 

The  success  of  that  initiative  dish — that  first  experiment 
of  hers  in  cookery — was  so  entire,  so  unalloyed  and  perfect, 
that  John  Westlock  and  Tom  agreed  she  must  have  been 
studying  the  art  in  secret  for  a  long  time  past,  and  urged 
her  to  make  a  full  confession  of  the  fact.  They  were  exceed- 
ingly merry  over  this  jest,  and  many  smart  things  were  said 
concerning  it;  but  John  was  not  as  fair  in  his  behavior  as 
might  have  been  expected,  for,  after  luring  Tom  Pinch  on, 
for  a  long  time,  he  suddenly  went  over  to  the  enemy,  and 
swore  to  every  thing  his  sister  said.  However,  as  Tom 
observed  the  same  night  before  going  to  bed,  it  was  only  in 
joke,  and  John  had  always  been  famous  for  being  polite  to 
ladies,  even  when  he  was  quite  a  boy.  Ruth  said,  "  Oh  ! 
indeed  !  "     She  didn't  say  any  thing  else. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  three  people  may  find  to  talk 
about.  They  scarcely  left  off  talking  once.  And  it  was  not 
all  lively  chat  which  occupied  them;  for,  when  Tom  related 
how  he  had  seen  Mr.  Pecksniff's  daughters,  and  what  a 
change  had  fallen  on  the  younger,  they  were  very  serious. 

John  Westlock  became  quite  absorbed  in  her  fortunes  ; 
asking  many  questions  of  Tom  Pinch  about  her  marriage,  in- 
quiring whether  her  husband  was  the  gentleman  whom  Tom 
had  brought  to  dine  with  him  at  Salisbury;  in  what  degree 
of  relationship  they  stood  toward  each  other,  being  different 
persons;  and  taking,  in  short,  the  greatest  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject. Tom  then  went  into  it  at  full  length;  he  told  how 
Martin  had  gone  abroad,  and  had  not  been  heard  of  for  a 
long  time;  how  Dragon  Mark  had  borne  him  company;  how 
Mr.  Pecksniff  had  got  the  poor  old  doting  grandfather  into 
his  power  ;  'and  how  he  basely  sought  the  hand  of  Mary 
Graham.  But,  not  a  word  said  Tom  of  what  lay  hidden  in 
his  heart;  his  heart,  so  deep,  and  true,  and  full  of  honor,  and 
yet  with  so  much  room  for  every  gentle  and  unselfish 
thought  ;  not  a  word. 

Tom,  Tom  !  The  man  in  all  this  world  most  confident  in 
his  sagacity  and  shrewdness;  the  man  in  all  this  world  most 
proud  of  his  distrust  of  other  men,  and  having  most  to  show 
in  gold  and  silver  as  the  gains  belonging  to  his  creed  ;  the 
meekest   favorer  of  that  wise  doctrine,  every  man  for  him- 


6i4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

self,  and  God  for  us  all  (there  being  high  wisdom  in  the 
thought  that  the  Eternal  Majesty  of  Heaven  ever  was,  or  can 
be,  on  the  side  of  selfish  lust  and  love  !);  shall  never  find,  oh, 
never  find,  be  sure  of  that,  the  time  come  home  to  him, 
when  all  his  wisdom  is  an  idiot's  folly,  weighed  against  a 
simple  heart ! 

Well,  well,  Tom,  it  was  simple  too,  though  simple  in  a  dif- 
ferent way,  to  be  so  eager  touching  that  same  theater,  of 
which  John  said,  when  tea  was  done,  he  had  the  absolute 
command,  so  far  as  taking  parties  in  without  the  payment  of 
a  sixpence,  was  concerned  ;  and  simpler  yet,  perhaps,  never 
to  suspect  that  when  he  went  in  first,  alone,  he  paid  the 
money  !  Simple  in  thee,  dear  Tom,  to  laugh  and  cry  so 
heartily,  at  such  a  sorry  show,  so  poorly  shown  ;  simple,  to 
be  so  happy  and  loquacious  trudging  home  with  Ruth  ;  sim- 
ple, to  be  so  surprised  to  find  that  merry  present  of  a  cook- 
ery-book, awaiting  her  in  the  parlor  next  morning,  with  the 
beef-steak-pudding-leaf  turned  down,  and  blotted  out. 
There  !  Let  the  record  stand  !  Thy  quality  of  soul  was 
simple,  simple  ;  quite  contemptible,  Tom  Pinch  ! 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  PINCHES  MAKE  A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE,  AND  HAVE  FRESH 
OCCASION  FOR  SURPRISE  AND  WONDER. 

There  was  a  ghostly  air  about  these  uninhabited  cham- 
bers in  the  Temple,  and  attending  every  circumstance  of 
Tom's  employment  there,  which  had  a  strange  charm  in  it. 
Every  morning  when  he  shut  his  door  at  Islington,  he  turned 
his  face  toward  an  atmosphere  of  unaccountable  fascination, 
as  surely  as  he  turned  it  to  the  London  smoke  ;  and  from 
that  moment,  it  thickened  round  and  round  him  all  day  long, 
until  the  time  arrived  for  going  home  again,  and  leaving  it, 
like  a  motionless  cloud,  behind. 

It  seemed  to  Tom,  every  morning,  that  he  approached  this 
ghostly  mist,  and  became  enveloped  in  it,  by  the  easiest  suc- 
cession of  degrees  imaginable.  Passing  from  the  roar  and 
rattle  of  the  streets  into  the  quiet  court-yards  of  the  Temple, 
was  the  first  preparation.  Every  echo  of  his  footsteps  sound- 
ed to  him  like  a  sound  from  the  old  walls  and  pavements, 
wanting  language  to  relate  the  histories  of  the  dim,  dismal 
rooms  ;  to  tell  him  what  lost  documents  were  decaying  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  615 

forgotten  corners  of  the  shut-up  cellars,  from  whose  lattices 
such  moldv  signs  came  breathing  forth  as  he  went  past;  to 
whisper  of' dark  bins  of  rare  old  wine,  bricked  up  in  vaults 
among  the  old  foundations  of  the  halls;  or  mutter  in  a  lower 
tone  yet  darker  legends  of  the  cross-legged  knights,  whose 
marble  effigies  were  in  the  church.  With  the  first  planting  of 
his  foot  upon  the  staircase  of  his  dusty  office,  all  these  mys- 
teries increased;  until,  ascending  step  by  step,  as  Tom  as- 
cended, they  attained  their  full  growth  in  the  solitary  labors 
of  the  day. 

Every  day  brought  one  recurring,  never-failing  source  of 
speculation.  This  employer  ;  would  he  come  to-day,  and 
what  would  he  be  like  ?  For  Tom  could  not  stop  short  at 
Mr.  Fips  ;  he  quite  believed  that  Mr.  Fips  had  spoken  truly, 
when  he  said  he  acted  for  another  ;  and  what  manner  of 
man  that  other  was,  became  a  full-blown  flower  of  wonder 
in  the  garden  of  Tom's  fancy,  which  never  faded  or  got 
trodden  down. 

At  one  time,  he  conceived  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  repenting 
of  his  falsehood,  might,  by  exertion  of  his  influence  with  some 
third  person,  have  devised  these  means  of  giving  him  employ- 
ment. He  found  this  idea  so  insupportable  after  what  had 
taken  place  between  that  good  man  and  himself,  that  he  con- 
fided it  to  John  Westlock  on  the  very  same  day  ;  informing 
John  that  he  would  rather  ply  for  hire  as  a  porter,  than  fall 
so  low  in  his  own  esteem  as  to  accept  the  smallest  obligation 
from  the  hands  of  Mr.  Pecksniff.  But  John  assured  him  that 
he  (Tom  Pinch)  was  far  from  doing  justice  to  the  character 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff  yet,  if  he  supposed  that  gentleman  capable 
of  performing  a  generous  action;  and  that  he  might  make  his 
mind  quite  easy  on  that  head,  until  he  saw  the  sun  turn  green 
and  the  moon  black,  and  at  the  same  time  distinctly  per- 
ceived with  the  naked  eye,  twelve  first-rate  comets  careering 
round  those  planets.  In  which  unusual  state  of  things,  he  said 
(and  not  before),  it  might  become  not  absolutely  lunatic  to 
suspect  Mr.  Pecksniff  of  any  thing  so  monstrous.  In  short 
he  laughed  the  idea  down,  completely  ;  and  Tom,  abandon- 
ing it,  was  thrcv.n  upon  his  beam-ends  again,  for  some  other 
solution. 

In  the  meantime  Tom  attended  to  his  duties  daily,  and 
made  considerable  progress  with  the  books,  which  were 
already  reduced  to  some  sort  of  order,  and  made  a  great 
appearance  in  his  fairly-written  catalogue.  During  his  busi- 
ness hours,  he  indulged  himself  occasionally  with  snatches 


5i6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

of  reading  ;  which  were  often,  indeed,  a  necessary  part  of 
his  pursuit  ;  and  as  he  usually  made  bold  to  carry  one  of 
these  goblin  volumes  home  at  night  (always  bringing  it  back 
again  next  morning,  in  case  his  strange  employer  should 
appear  and  ask  what  had  become  of  it),  he  led  a  happy, 
quiet,  studious  kind  of  life,  after  his  own  heart. 

But,  though  the  books  were  never  so  interesting,  and 
never  so  full  of  novelty  to  Tom,  they  could  not  so  enchain 
him  in  those  mysterious  chambers,  as  to  render  him  uncon- 
scious, for  a  moment,  of  the  lightest  sound.  Any  footstep  on 
the  flags  without,  set  him  listening  attentively,  and  when  it 
turned  into  that  house,  and  came  up,  up,  up,  the  stairs,  he 
always  thought  with  a  beating  heart,  *'  Now  I  am  coming 
face  to  face  with  him,  at  last  !  "  But  no  footsteps  ever 
passed  the  floor  immediately  below,  except  his  own. 

This  mystery  and  loneliness  engendered  fancies  in  Tom's 
mind,  the  folly  of  which  his  common  sense  could  readily  dis- 
cover, but  which  his  common  sense  was  quite  unable  to  keep 
away,  notwithstanding  ;  that  quality  being  with  most  of  us, 
in  such  a  case,  like  the  old  French  police — quick  at  detec- 
tion, but  very  weak  as  a  preventive  power.  Misgivings, 
undefined,  absurd,  inexplicable,  that  there  was  some  one 
hiding  in  the  inner  room — walking  softly  over  head,  peep- 
ing in  through  the  door-chink,  doing  something  stealthy, 
anywhere  where  he  was  not — came  over  him  a  hundred 
times  a  day,  making  it  pleasant  to  throw  up  the  sash,  and 
hold  communication  even  with  the  sparrows  who  had  built 
in  the  roof  and  water  spout,  and  were  twittering  about  the 
windows  all  day  long. 

He  sat  with  the  outer  door  wide  open,  at  all  times,  that  he 
might  hear  the  footsteps  as  they  entered,  and  turned  off  into 
the  chambers  on  the  lower  floor.  He  formed  odd  preposses- 
sions too,  regarding  strangers  in  the  streets  ;  and  would  say 
within  himself  of  such  or  such  a  man,  who  struck  him  as 
having  any  thing  uncommon  in  his  dress  or  aspect,  ''  I 
shouldn't  wonder,  now,  if  that  were  he  !  "  But  it  never  was. 
And  though  he  actually  turned  back  and  followed  more  than 
one  of  these  suspected  individuals,  in  a  singular  belief  that 
they  were  going  to  the  place  he  was  then  upon  his  way  from, 
he  never  got  any  other  satisfaction  by  it,  than  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing  it  was  not  the  case. 

Mr.  Fips  of  Austin  Friars,  rather  deepened  than  illumined 
the  obscurity  of  his  position  ;  for,  on  the  first  occasion  of 
Tom's  waiting  on  him  to  receive  his  weekly  pay,  he  said  : 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  617 

"  Oh  !  by-the-by,  Mr.  Pinch,  you  needn't  mention  it,  if 
you  please  !  " 

Tom  thought  he  was  going  to  tell  him  a  secret  ;  so  he  said 
that  he  wouldn't  on  any  account,  and  that  Mr.  Fips  might 
entirely  depend  upon  him.  But  as  Mr.  Fips  said  "  Very 
good,"  in  reply,  and  nothing  more,  Tom  prompted  him  : 

"  Not  on  any  account,"  repeated  Tom. 

Mr.  Fips  repeated  "  Very  good." 

"  You  were  going  to  say  " — Tom  hinted. 

"Oh  dear  no!"  cried  Fips.  ''Not  at  all."— However, 
seeing  Tom  confused,  he  added,  "  I  mean  that  you  needn't 
mention  any  particulars  about  your  place  of  employment,  to 
people  generally.     You'll  find  it  better  not." 

"  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  employer  yet, 
sir,"  observed  Tom,  putting  his  week's  salary  in  his  pocket. 

"  Haven't  you  ?  "  said  Fips.  "  No,  I  don't  suppose  you 
have  thoucrh."   - 

"  I  should  like  to  thank  him,  and  to  know  that  what  I 
have  done  so  far,  is  done  to  his  satisfaction,"  faltered  Tom. 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  with  a  yawn.  "  Highly 
creditable.     Very  proper." 

Tom  hastily  resolved  to  try  him  on  another  tack. 

"I  shall  soon  have  finished,  with  the  books,"  he  said.  "I 
hope  that  will  not  terminate  my  engagement,  sir,  or  render 
me  useless  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  "  retorted  Fips.  "  Plenty  to  do — plen-ty 
to  do  !     Be  careful  how  you  go.     It's  rather  dark." 

This  was  the  very  utmost  extent  of  information  Tom 
could  ever  get  out  of  him.  So,  it  was  dark  enough  in  all 
conscience  ;  and  if  Mr.  Fips  expressed  himself  with  a  double 
meaning,  he  had  good  reason  for  doing  so. 

But  now  a  circumstance  occurred,  which  helped  to  divert 
Tom's  thoughts  from  even  this  mystery,  and  to  divide  them 
between  it  and  a  new  channel,  which  was  a  very  Nile  in 
itself. 

The  way  it  came  about  was  this.  Having  always  been  an 
early  riser,  and  having  now  no  organ  to  engage  him  in  sweet 
converse  every  morning,  it  was  his  habit  to  take  a  long  walk 
before  going  to  the  Temple  ;  and  naturally  inclining,  as  a 
stranger,  toward  those  parts  of  the  town  which  were  con- 
spicuous for  the  life  and  animation  pervading  them,  he 
became  a  great  frequenter  of  the  market-places,  bridges, 
quays,  and  especially  the  steamboat  wharv-es  ;  for  it  was 
very  lively  and  fresh   to  see  the  people  hurrying  away  upon 


Ci5  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

their  many  schemes  of  business  or  pleasure,  and  it 
made  Tom  glad  to  think  that  there  was  that  much  change 
and  freedom  in  the  monotonous  routine  of  city  lives. 

In  most  of  these  morning  excursions  Ruth  accompanied 
him.  As  their  landlord  was  always  up  and  away  at  his  busi- 
ness (whatever  that  might  be,  no  one  seemed  to  know)  at  a 
very  early  hour,  the  habits  of  the  people  of  the  house  in 
which  they  lodged  corresponded  with  their  own.  Thus  they 
had  often  finished  their  breakfast,  and  were  out  in  the  sum- 
mer-air by  seven  o'clock.  After  a  tv^o  hours'  stroll  they 
parted  at  some  convenient  point  ;  Tom  going  to  the  Temple, 
and  his  sister  returning  home,  as  methodically  as  you  please. 

Many  and  many  a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  in  Covent- 
Garden  market,  snuffing  up  the  perfume  of  the  fruit  and  flow- 
ers, wondering  at  the  magnificence  of  the  pine-apples,  and 
melons ;  catching  glimpses  down  the  side  avenues,  of  rows 
and  rows  of  old  women,  seated  on  inverted  baskets  shelling 
peas  ;  looking  unutterable  things  at  the  fat  bundles  of  aspar- 
agus with  which  the  dainty  shops  were  fortified  as  with  a 
breast-work  ;  and,  at  the  herbalists'  doors,  gratefully  inhal- 
ing scents  as  of  veal-stuffing  yet  uncooked,  dreamily  mixed 
up  with  capsicums,  brown-paper,  seeds — even  with  hints  of 
lusty  snails  and  fine  young  curly  leeches.  Many  and  many 
a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  among  the  poultry  markets,  where 
ducks  and  fowls,  with  necks  unnaturally  long,  lay  stretched 
out  in  pairs,  ready  for  cooking  ;  where  there  were  speckled 
eggs  in  mossy  baskets,  white  country  sausages  beyond  im- 
peachment by  surviving  cat  or  dog,  or  horse  or  donkey,  new 
cheeses  to  any  wild  extent,  live  birds  in  coops  and  cages, 
looking  much  too  big  to  be  natural,  in  consequence  of  those 
receptacles  being  much  too  little ;  rabbits,  alive  and  dead, 
innumerable.  Many  a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  among  the 
cool,  refreshing,  silvery  fish-stalls,  with  a  kind  of  moonlight 
effect  about  their  stock  in  trade,  excepting  always  for  the 
ruddy  lobsters.  Many  a  pleasant  stroll  among  the  wagon- 
loads  of  fragrant  hay,  beneath  which  dogs  and  tired  wagon- 
ers lay  fast  asleep,  oblivious  of  the  pieman  and  the  public- 
house.  But,  never  half  so  good  a  stroll  as  down  among  the 
steamboats  on  a  bright  morning. 

There  they  lay,  alongside  of  each  other  ;  hard  and  fast  for- 
ever, to  all  appearance,  but  designing  to  get  out  somehow, 
and  quite  confident  of  doing  it ;  and  in  that  faith  shoals  of 
passengers,  and  heaps  of  luggage,  were  proceeding  hurriedly 
on  board.     Little  steamboats  dashed  up  and  down  the  stream 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  619 

incessantly.  Tiers  upon  tiers  of  vessels,  scores  of  masts, 
labyrinths  of  tackle,  idle  sails,  splashing  oars,  gliding  row- 
boats,  lumbering  barges,  sunken  piles,  with  ugly  lodgings  for 
the  water-rat  within  their  mud-discolored  nooks  ;  church 
steeples,  warehouses,  house-roofs,  arches,  bridges,  men  and 
women,  children,  casks,  cranes,  boxes,  horses,  coaches,  idlers, 
and  hard  laborers  ;  they  were  all  jumbled  up  together,  any 
summer  morning,  far  beyond  Tom's  power  of  separation. 

In  the  midst  of  this  turmoil,  there  was  an  incessant  roar 
from  every  packet's  funnel,  w^iich  quite  expressed  and  car- 
ried out  the  uppermost  emotion  of  the  scene.  They  all 
appeared  to  be  perspiring  and  bothering  themselves,  exactly 
as  their  passengers  did  ;  they  never  left  off  fretting  and 
chafing,  in  their  own  hoarse  manner,  once  ;  but  were  always 
panting  out,  without  any  stops,  "  Come  along  do  make  haste 
I'm  very  nervous  come  along  oh  good  gracious  we  shall 
never  get  there  how  late  you  are  do  make  haste  I'm  off 
directly  come  along  !  "  Even  when  they  had  left  off,  and 
had  got  safely  out  into  the  current,  on  the  smallest  provoca- 
tion they  began  again  :  for  the  bravest  packet  of  them  all, 
being  stopped  by  some  entanglement  in  the  river,  would 
immediately  begin  to  fume  and  pant  afresh,  ''  Oh  here's  a 
stoppage  what's  the  matter  do  go  on  there  I'm  in  a  hurry 
it's  done  on  purpose  did  you  ever  oh  my  goodness  do  go  on 
there  !  "  and  so,  in  a  state  of  mind  bordering  on  distraction, 
would  be  last  seen  drifting  slowly  through  the  mist  into  the 
summer  light  beyond,  that  made  it  red. 

Tom's  ship,  however  ;  or,  at  least,  the  packet-boat  in 
which  Tom  and  his  sister  took  the  greatest  interest  on  one  par- 
ticular occasion,  was  not  off  yet,  by  any  means  ;  but  was  at 
the  height  of  its  disorder.  The  press  of  passengers  was  very 
great  ;  another  steamboat  lay  on  each  side  of  her  ;  the  gang- 
ways were  choked  up;  distracted  women  obviously  bound  for 
Gravesend,  but  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  representations  that 
this  particular  vessel  was  about  to  sail  for  Antwerp,  persisted 
in  secreting  baskets  of  refreshments  behind  bulk-heads  and 
water  casks,  and  under  seats;  and  very  great  confusion  pre- 
vailed. 

It  was  so  amusing,  that  Tom,  with  Ruth  upon  his  arm, 
stood  looking  down  from  the  wharf,  as  nearly  regardless  as  it 
was  in  the  nature  of  flesh  and  blood  to  be,  of  an  elderly  lady 
behind  him,  who  had  brought  a  large  umbrella  with  her,  and 
didn't  know  what  to  do  with  it.  This  tremendous  instrument 
had  a  hooked  handle;  and  its  vicinity  was  first  made  known 


02O  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

to  him  by  a  painful  pressure  on  the  windpipe,  consequent  upon 
its  having  caught  him  round  the  throat.  Soon  after  disin- 
gagmg  himself  with  perfect  good  humor,  he  had  a  sensation 
of  the  ferule  in  his  back;  immediately  afterward  of  the  hook 
entangling  his  ankles;  then  of  the  umbrella  generally,  wan- 
dering about  his  hat,  and  flapping  at  it  like  a  great  bird;  and 
lastly,  of  a  poke  or  thrust  below  the  ribs,  which  gave  him 
such  exceeding  anguish,  that  he  could  not  refrain  from  turn- 
ing round  to  offer  a  mild  remonstrance. 

Upon  his  turning  round,  he  found  the  owner  of  the 
umbrella  struggling  on  tiptoe,  with  a  countenance  expressive 
of  violent  animosity,  to  look  down  upon  the  steamboats; 
from  which  he  inferred  that  she  had  attacked  him,  standing 
in  the  front  row,  by  design  as  her  natural  enemy. 

"  What  a  very  ill-natured  person  you  must  be  !"  said  Tom. 

The  lady  cried  out  fiercely,  '^  Where's  the  pelisse  !  "  mean- 
ing the  constabulary — and  went  on  to  say,  shaking  the  handle 
of  the  umbrella  at  Tom,  that  but  for  them  fellers  never  being 
in  the  way  when  they  was  wanted,  she'd  have  given  him  in 
charge,  she  would. 

"  If  they  greased  their  whiskers  less,  and  minded  the 
duties  which  they're  paid  so  heavy  for,  a  little  more,"  she 
observed,  ''  no  one  needn't  be  drove  mad  by  scrouding  so  !  " 

She  had  been  grievously  knocked  about,  no  doubt,  for 
her  bonnet  was  bent  in  the  shape  of  a  cocked  hat.  Being  a 
fat  little  woman,  too,  she  was  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion 
and  intense  heat.  Instead  of  pursuing  the  altercation, 
therefore,  Tom  civilly  inquired  what  boat  she  wanted  to  go 
on  board  of  ? 

"  I  suppose,"  returned  the  lady,  "  as  nobody  but  yourself 
can  want  to  look  at  a  steam  package,  without  wanting  to  go 
a  boarding  of  it,  can  they  !     Booby  !  " 

^' Winch  one  do  you  want  to  look  at  then  ?  "  said  Tom. 
"  We'll  make  room  for  you  if  we  can.  Don't  be  so  ill- 
tempered." 

^*  No  blessed  creetur  as  ever  I  was  with  in  trying  times," 
returned  the  lady,  somewhat  softened,  "  and  they're  a  many 
in  their  numbers,  ever  brought  it  as  a  charge  again  myself 
that  I  was  any  thin'  but  mild  and  equal  in  my  spirits.  Never 
mind  a  contradicting  of  me,  if  you  seem  to  feel  it  does  you 
good,  ma'am,  I  often  says,  for  well  you  know  that  Sairey 
may  be  trusted  not  to  give  it  back  again.  But  I  will  not 
denige  that  I  am  worrited  and  vexed  this  day,  and  with  good 
reagion,  Lord  forbid  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  621 

By  this  time,  Mrs.  Gamp  (for  it  was  no  other  than  that 
experienced  practitioner),  had,  with  Tom's  assistance, 
squeezed  and  worked  herself  into  a  small  corner  between 
Ruth  and  the  rail;  where,  after  breathing  very  hard  for  some 
little  time,  and  performing  a  short  series  of  dangerous  evolu- 
tions with  her  umbrella,  she  managed  to  establish  herself 
pretty  comfortably. 

"  And  which  of  all  them  smoking  monsters  is  the  Ank- 
works  boat,  I  wonder.     Goodness  me,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  What  boat  did  you  want  ?  "  asked  Ruth. 

"The  Ankworks  package,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  I  will  not 
deceive  you,  my  sweet.     Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  Antwerp  packet  in  the  middle,"  said  Ruth. 

**  And  I  wish  it  was  in  Jonadge's  belly,  I  do,"  cried  Mrs. 
Gamp;  appearing-to  confound  the  prophet  with  the  whale  in 
this  miraculous  aspiration. 

Ruth  said  nothing  in  reply;  but,  as  Mrs.  Gamp,  laying  her 
chin  against  the  cool  iron  of  the  rail,  continued  to  look 
intently  at  the  Antwerp  boat,  and  every  now  and  then  to  give 
a  little  groan,  she  inquired  whether  any  child  of  hers  was 
going  abroad  that  morning  ?  Or  perhaps  her  husband,  she 
said  kindly. 

"  Which  shows,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  casting  up  her  eyes, 
"  what  a  little  way  you've  traveled  into  this  wale  of  life,  my 
dear  young  creetur  !  As  a  good  friend  of  mine  has  frequent 
made  remark  to  me,  which  her  name,  my  love,  is  Harris,  Mrs. 
Harris  through  square  and  up  the  steps  a  turnin'  round  by  the 
tobacker  shop,  '  Oh  Sairey,  Sairey,  little  do  we  know  wot 
lays  afore  us  !  '  *  Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am,'  I  says,  ^  not  much  it's 
true,  but  more  than  you  suppoge.  Our  calcilations,  ma'am,' 
I  says,  *  respectin'  wot  the  number  of  a  family  will  be,  comes 
most  times  v/ithin  one,  and  oftener  than  you  would  suppoge, 
exact.'  *  Sairey,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  in  a  awful  way,  'Tell  me 
wot  is  my  indiwidgle  number.'  *  No,  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to 
her, '  ex-cuge  me,  if  you  please.  My  own,'  I  says,  *  has  fallen 
out  of  three-pair  backs,  and  had  damp  doorsteps  settled  on 
their  lungs,  and  one  was  turned  up  smilin'  in  a  bedstead,  un- 
beknown. Therefore  ma'am,*  I  says,  *  seek  not  to  protici- 
pate,  but  take  'em  as  they  come  and  as  they  go.'  Mine," 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  mine  is  all  gone,  my  dear  young  chick. 
And  as  to  husbands,  there's  a  wooden  leg  gone  likeways 
home  to  its  account,  which  in  its  constancy  of  walkin'  into 
wine  vaults,  and  never  comin'  out  again  'till  fetched  by  force, 
was  quite  as  weak  as  flesh,  if  not  weaker." 


G22  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

When  she  had  deUvered  this  oration,  Mrs.  Gamp  leaned 
her  chin  upon  the  cool  iron  again;  and  looking  intently  at  the 
Antwerp  packet,  shook  her  head  and  groaned. 

"  I  wouldn't,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  I  wouldn't  be  a  man  and 
have  such  a  think  upon  my  mind  ! — but  nobody  as  owned  the 
name  of  man,  could  do  it  !" 

Tom  and  his  sister  glanced  at  each  other;  and  Ruth,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  asked  Mrs.  Gamp  what  troubled  her 
so  much. 

"  My  dear,"  returned  that  lady,  dropping  her  voice,  *'  you 
are  single,  ain't  you  ? " 

Ruth  laughed,  blushed,  and  said  "  Yes." 

**  Worse  luck,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  for  all  parties  ! 
But  others  is  married,  and  in  the  marriage  state;  and  there  is 
a  dear  young  creetur  a  comin'  down  this  mornin'  to  that  very 
package,  which  is  no  more  fit  to  trust  herself  to  sea,  than 
nothin'  is  !  " 

She  paused  here,  to  look  over  the  deck  of  the  packet  in 
question,  and  on  the  steps  leading  down  to  it,  and  on  the 
gangways.  Seeming  to  have  thus  assured  herself  that  the 
object  of  her  commiseration  had  not  yet  arrived,  she  raised 
her  eyes  gradually  up  to  the  top  of  the  escape-pipe,  and  in- 
dignantly apostrophized  the  vessel: 

"  Oh  drat  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  umbrella 
at  it,  ''you're  a  nice  spluttering  nisy  monster  for  a  delicate' 
young  creetur  to  go  and  be  a  passinger  by;  ain't  you  ?  Vou 
never  do  no  harm  in  that  way,  do  you  ?  With  your  hammering 
and  roaring,  and  hissing,  and  lamp-iling,  you  brute  !  Them 
confugion  steamers,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  umbrella 
again,  "  has  done  more  to  throw  us  out  of  our  reg'lar  work 
and  bring  ewents  on  at  times  when  nobody  counted  on  'em 
(especially  them  screeching  railroad  ones),  than  all  the  other 
frights  that  ever  was  took.  I  have  heerd  of  one  young  man, 
a  guard  upon  a  railway,  only  three  years  opened — well  does 
Mrs.  Harris  know  him,  which  indeed  he  is  her  own  relation 
by  her  sister's  marriage  with  a  master  sawyer — as  is  godfather 
at  this  present  time  to  six-and-twenty  blessed  little  strangers, 
equally  unexpected,  and  all  on  'em  named  after  the  in- 
geins  as  was  the  cause.  Ugh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  resuming 
her  apostrophe,  "  one  might  easy  know  you  was  a  man's  in- 
vention, from  your  disregardlessness  of  the  weakness  of  our 
naturs,  so  one  might,  you  brute  !  " 

It  would  not  have  been  unnatural  to  suppose,  from  the 
^rst  part  of  Mrs.  Gamp  s  lamentations,  that  she  was  con» 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  O23 

nected  with  the  stage-coaching  or  post-horsing  trade.  She 
had  no  means  of  judging  of  the  effect  of  her  concluding  re- 
marks upon  her  young  companion;  for  she  interrupted  her- 
self at  this  point  and  exclaimed  : 

"  There  she  identically  goes  !  Poor  sweet  young  creetur, 
there  she  goes,  like  a  lamb  to  the  sacrifige  !  If  there's  any 
illness  when  that  wessel  gets  to  sea,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  pro- 
phetically, "  it's  murder,  and  I'm  the  witness  for  the  persecu- 
tion." 

She  was  so  very  earnest  on  the  subject,  that  Tom's  sister 
(being  as  kind  as  Tom  himself),  could  not  help  saying  some- 
thing to  her  in  reply. 

"  Pray,  which  is  the  lady,"  she  inquired,  "  in  whom  you 
are  so  much  interested  ?  " 

"  There  !  "  groaned  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  There  she  goes  !  A 
crossin'  the  little  wooden  bridge  at  this  minute.  She's  a  slip- 
pin'  on  a  bit  of  orange-peel  !  "  tightly  clutching  her  umbrella. 
"  What  a  turn  it  give  me  !  " 

*'  Do  you  mean  the  lady  who  is  with  that  man  wrapped  up 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  large  cloak,  so  that  his  face  is  almost 
hidden?" 

**  Well  he  may  hide  it  ? "  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  '*  He's  good 
call  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  Did  you  see  him  a  jerking  of 
her  wrist,  then  !  " 

"  He  seems  to  be  hasty  with  her,  indeed." 

*'  Now  he's  a  taking  of  her  down  into  the  close  cabin  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  impatiently.  "  What's  the  man  about  !  The 
deuce  is  in  him  I  think.  Why  can't  he  leave  her  in  the  open 
air?" 

He  did  not,  whatever  his  reason  was,  but  led  her  quickly 
down  and  disappeared  himself,  without  loosening  his  cloak^ 
or  pausing  on  the  crowded  deck  one  moment  longer  than 
was  necessary  to  clear  their  way  to  that  part  of  the  vessel. 

Tom  had  not  heard  this  little  dialogue  ;  for  his  attention 
had  been  engaged  in  an  unexpected  manner.  A  hand  upon 
his  sleeve  had  caused  him  to  look  round,  just  when  Mrs. 
Gamp  concluded  her  apostrophe  to  the  steam  engine  ;  and 
on  his  right  arm,  Ruth  being  on  his  left,  he  found  their 
landlord  :  to  his  great  surprise. 

He  was  not  so  much  surprised  at  the  man's  being  there, 
as  at  his  having  got  close  to  him  so  quietly  and  swiftly  ;  for 
another  person  had  been  at  his  elbow  one  instant  before  ; 
and  he  had  not  in  the  meantime  been  conscious  of  any 
change  or  pressure  in  the  knot  of  people  among  whom  he 


624  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

stood.  He  and  Ruth  had  frequently  remarked  how  noise- 
lessly this  landlord  of  theirs  came  into  and  went  out  of  his 
own  house  ;  but  Tom  was  not  the  less  amazed  to  see  him  at 
his  elbow  now. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pinch,"  he  said  in  his  ear.  "  I 
am  rather  infirm  and  out  of  breath,  and  my  eyes  are  not  very 
good.  I  am  not  as  young  as  I  was,  sir.  You  don't  see  a 
gentleman  in  a  large  cloak  down  yonder,  with  a  lady  on  his 
arm  ;  a  lady  in  a  veil  and  a  black  shawl  ;  do  you  ?  " 

"  If  he  did  not,  it  was  curious  that  in  speaking  he  should 
have  singled  out  from  all  the  crowd  the  very  people  whom 
he  described,  and  should  have  glanced  hastily  from  them  to 
Tom,  as  if  he  were  burning  to  direct  his  wandering  eyes. 

"  A  gentleman  in  a  large  cloak  ! "  said  Tom,  "  and  a  lady 
in  a  black  shawl !     Let  me  see  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ! "  replied  the  other,  with  keen  impatience. 
"  A  gentleman  muffled  up  from  head  to  foot — strangely 
muffled  up  for  such  a  morning  as  this — ^like  an  invalid, 
with  his  hand  to  his  face  this  minute,  perhaps.  No,  no, 
no  !  not  there,"  he  added,  following  Tom's  gaze  ;  "  the 
other  way ;  in  that  direction  ;  down  yonder."  Again 
he  indicated,  but  this  time  in  his  hurry,  with  his  outstretched 
finger,  the  very  spot  on  which  the  progress  of  these  persons 
was  checked  at  that  moment. 

*'  There  are  so  many  people,  and  so  much  motion,  and  so 
many  objects,"  said  Tom,  *' that  I  find  it  difficult  to — no,  I 
really  don't  see  a  gentleman  in  a  large  cloak,  and  a  lady  in 
a  black  shawl.     There's  a  lady  in  a  red  shawl  over  there." 

**  No,  no,  no  ! "  cried  his  landlord,  pointing  eagerly  again, 
*'  not  there.  The  other  way — the  other  way.  Look  at  the 
cabin  steps.  To  the  left.  They  must  be  near  the  cabin 
steps.  Do  you  see  the  cabin  steps  ?  There's  the  bell  ring- 
ing already  !      Do  you  see  the  steps  ?  " 

**  Stay  !  "  said  Tom,  **  you're  right.  Look  !  there  they  go 
now.  Is  that  the  gentleman  you  mean  ?  Descending  at  this 
minute,  with  the  folds  of  a  great  cloak  trailing  down  after 
him  ? " 

"The  very  man  !"  returned  the  other,  not  looking  at 
what  Tom  pointed  out,  however,  but  at  Tom's  own  face. 
**  Will  you  do  me  a  kindness,  sir,  a  great  kindness  ?  Will  you 
put  that  letter  in  his  hand  ?  Only  give  him  that  !  He  ex- 
pects it.  I  am  charged  to  do  it  by  my  employers,  but  I  am 
late  in  finding  him,  and,  not  being  as  young  as  I  have  been, 
should  never  be  able  to  jji.ake  my  way  on  board  and  off  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  625 

deck  again  in  time.  Will  you  pardon  my  boldness,  and  do 
me  that  great  kindness  ?  " 

His  hands  shook,  and  his  face  bespoke  the  utmost  interest 
and  agitation,  as  he  pressed  the  letter  upon  Tom,  and 
pointed  to  its  destination,  like  the  tempter  in  some  grim  old 
carving. 

To  hesitate  in  the  performance  of  a  good  natured  or  com- 
passionate office,  was  not  in  Tom's  way.  He  took  the  letter; 
whispered  Ruth  to  wait  until  he  returned,  which  would  be 
immediately  ;  and  ran  down  the  steps  with  all  the  expedi- 
tion he  could  make.  There  were  so  many  people  going 
down,  so  many  others  coming  up,  such  heavy  goods  in 
course  of  transit  to  and  fro,  such  a  ringing  of  bells,  blowing- 
off  of  steam,  and  shouting  of  men's  voices,  that  he  had 
much  ado  to  force  his  way,  or  keep  in  mind  to  which  boat 
he  was  going.  But  he  reached  the  right  one  with  good 
speed,  and,  going  down  the  cabin  stairs  immediately,  des- 
cried the  object  of  his  search  standing  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  saloon,  with  his  back  toward  him,  reading  some  notice 
which  was  hung  against  the  wall.  As  Tom  advanced  to 
give  him  the  letter,  he  started,  hearing  footsteps,  and  turned 
round. 

What  was  Tom's  astonishment  to  find  in  him  the  man 
with  whom  he  had  had  the  conflict  in  the  field — poor  Mer- 
cy's husband — Jonas. 

Tom  understood  him  to  say,  what  the  devil  did  he  want  ; 
but  it  was  not  easy  to  make  out  what  he  said  ;  he  spoke  so 
indistinctly. 

"  I  want  nothing  with  you  for  myself,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  was 
asked,  a  moment  since,  to  give  you  this  letter.  You  were 
pointed  out  to  me,  but  I  didn't  know  you  in  your  strange 
dress.     Take  it !  " 

He  did  so,  opened  it,  and  read  the  writing  on  the  inside. 
The  contents  were  evidently  very  brief  ;  not  more  perhaps 
than  one  line  ;  but  they  struck  him  like  a  stone  from  a 
sling.     He  reeled  back  as  he  read. 

His  emotion  was  so  different  from  any  Tom  had  ever  seen 
before,  that  he  stopped  involuntarily.  Momentary  as  his 
state  of  indecision  was,  the  bell  ceased  while  he  stood  there, 
and  a  hoarse  voice  calling  down  the  steps,  inquired  if  there 
was  any  one  to  go  ashore  ? 

"  Yes,"  cried  Jonas,  "  I — I  am  coming.  Give  me  time. 
Where's  that  woman  !  come  back  ;  come  back  here." 

He  threw  open  another  door  as  he  sDoke,  and  dragged, 


626  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

rather  than  led,  her  forth.  She  was  pale  and  frightened, 
and  amazed  to  see  her  old  acquaintance  ;  but  had  no  time 
to  speak,  for  they  were  making  a  great  stir  above  ;  and 
Jonas  drew  her  rapidly  toward  the  deck. 

*'  Where  are  we  going  ?     What  is  the  matter  ? " 

**  We  are  going  back,"  said  Jonas.  *'  I  have  changed  my 
mind.  I  can't  go.  Don't  question  me,  or  I  shall  be  the 
death  of  you,  or  some  one  else.  Stop  there  !  Stop  !  We're 
for  the  shore.     Do  you  hear  !     We're  for  the  shore  !  " 

He  turned,  even  in  the  madness  of  his  hurry,  and  scowl- 
ing darkly  back,  at  Tom,  shook  his  clenched  hand  at  him. 
There  are  not  many  human  faces  capable  of  the  expression 
with  which  he  accompanied  that  gesture. 

He  dragged  her  up,  and  Tom  followed  them.  Across  the 
deck,  over  the  side,  along  the  crazy  plank,  and  up  the  steps, 
he  dragged  her  fiercely  ;  not  bestowing  any  look  on  her, 
but  gazing  upward  all  the  while  among  the  faces  on  the 
wharf.  Suddenly  he  turned  again,  and  said  to  Tom,  with  a 
tremendous  oath  : 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

Before  Tom,  in  his  indignation  and  amazement,  could 
return  an  answer  to  a  question  he  so  little  understood,  a  gen- 
tleman approached  Tom  behind,  and  saluted  Jonas  Chuzzle- 
wit  by  name.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  foreign  appearance, 
with  a  black  mustache  and  whiskers  ;  and  addressed  him 
with  a  polite  composure,  strangely  different  from  his  own 
distracted  and  desperate  manner. 

"  Chuzzlewit,  my  good  fellow  ! "  said  the  gentleman,  rais- 
ing his  hat  in  compliment  to  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  "  I  ask 
your  pardon  twenty  thousand  times.  I  am  most  unwilling 
to  interfere  between  you  and  a  domestic  trip  of  this  nature 
(always  so  very  charming  and  refreshing,  I  know,  although 
I  have  not  the  happiness  to  be  a  domestic  man  myself, 
which  is  a  great  infelicity  of  my  existence)  ;  but  the  bee- 
hive, my  dear  friend,  the  bee-hive — will  y^ou  introduce  me  ?  " 

"  This  is  Mr.  Montague,"  said  Jonas,  whom  the  words 
appeared  to  choke. 

**  The  most  unhappy  and  most  penitent  of  men,  Mrs. 
Chuzzlewit,"  pursued  that  gentleman,  "  for  having  been  the 
means  of  spoiling  this  excursion  ;  but  as  I  tell  my  friend, 
the  bee-hive,  the  bee-hive.  You  projected  a  short  little  con- 
tinental trip,  my  dear  friend,  of  course  ?  " 

Jonas  maintained  a  dogged  silence. 

"  May  I  die,"  cried  Montasue.  *'  but  I  am  shocked  !  Upon 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  627 

my  son!  I  am  shocked.  But  that  confounded  bee-hive  of 
ours  in  the  city  must  be  paramount  to  every  other  consider- 
ation, when  there  is  honey  to  be  made  ;  and  that  is  my  best 
excuse.  Here  is  a  very  singular  old  female  dropping  courte- 
sies on  my  right,"  said  Montague,  breaking  off  in  his  dis- 
course, and  looking  at  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  who  is  not  a  friend  of 
mine.     Does  any  body  know  her  ?  " 

"Ah  !  Well  they  knows  me,  bless  their  precious  hearts," 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  not  forgettin'  your  own  merry  one,  sir, 
and  long  may  it  be  so  !  Wishin'  as  every  one  "  (she  deliv- 
ered this  in  the  form  of  a  toast  or  sentiment)  "  was  as  merry, 
and  as  handsome-looking,  as  a  little  bird  has  whispered  me  a 
certain  gent  is,  which  I  will  not  name  for  fear  I  give  offense 
where  none  is  doo  !  My  precious  lady,"  here  she  stopped 
short  in  her  merriment,  for  she  had  until  now  affected  to  be 
vastly  entertained,  "  you're  too  pale  by  half  !  " 

"  Voii  are  here  too,  are  you  ? "  muttered  Jonas.  *'  Ecod. 
there  are  enough  of  you." 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  returned  Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  an  indignant 
courtesy,  "as  no  bones  is  broke  by  me  and  Mrs.  Harris  a 
walkin'  down  upon  a  public  wharf.  Which  was  the  very 
words  she  says  to  me  (although  they  was  the  last  I  ever 
had  to  speak)  was  these  :  'Sairey,'  she  says,  *is  it  a  public 
wharf  ?  '  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  makes  answer,  '  can  you  doubt  it  ? 
You  have  know'd  me  now,  ma'am,  eight-and-thirty  year  ; 
and  did  you  ever  know  me  go,  or  wish  to  go,  where  I  was 
not  made  welcome,  say  the  words.'  '  No,  Sairey,*  Mrs. 
Harris  says, '  contrary  quite.'  And  well  she  knows  it  too. 
I  am  but  a  poor  woman,  but  I've  been  sought  arter,  sir, 
though  you  may  not  think  it.  I've  been  knocked  up  at  all 
hours  of  the  night,  and  warned  out  by  a  many  landlords,  in 
consequence  of  being  mistook  for  fire.  I  goes  out  working 
for  my  bread,  'tis  true,  but  I  maintains  my  independency, 
with  your  kind  leave,  and  which  I  will  till  death.  I  has  my 
feelins  as  a  woman,  sir,  an4  I  have  been  a  mother  likeways  ; 
but  touch  a  pipkin  as  belongs  to  me,  or  make  the  least  remark 
on  what  I  eats  or  drinks,  and  though  you  was  the  favoritest 
young  for'ard  hussy  of  a  servant-gal  as  ever  come  into  a 
house,  either  you  leaves  the  place  or  me.  My  earnings  is 
not  great,  sir,  but  I  will  not  be  impoged  upon.  Bless  the 
babe,  and  save  the  mother,  is  my  mortar,  sir  ;  but  I  makes 
so  free  as  to  add  to  that,  don't  try  no  impogician  with  the 
nuss  ;  for  she  will  not  abear  it  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  concluded  by  drawing  her  shawl  tightly  over 


528  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

herself  with  both  hands,  and,  as  usual,  referring  to  Mrs.  Har- 
ris for  full  corroboration  of  these  particulars.  She  had  that 
peculiar  trembling  of  the  head,  which,  in  ladies  of  her  ex- 
citable nature,  may  be  taken  as  a  sure  indication  of  their 
breaking  out  again  very  shortly  ;  when  Jonas  made  a  timely 
interposition. 

"  As  you  are  here,"  he  said,  "  you  had  better  see  to  her, 
and  take  her  home.  I  am  otherwise  engaged."  He  said 
nothing  more  ;  but  looked  at  Montague  as  if  to  give  him  no- 
tice that  he  was  ready  to  attend  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  take  you  away,"  said  Montague. 
Jonas  gave  him  a  sinister  look,  which  long  lived  in  Tom's 
memory  and  which  he  often  recalled  afterward. 

"  I  am,  upon  my  life,"  said  Montague.  "  Why  did  you 
make  it  necessary  ?  " 

With  the  same  dark  glance  as  before,  Jonas  replied,  after  a 
moment's  silence, 

"  The  necessity  is  none  of  my  making.  You  have  brought 
it  about  yourself." 

He  said  nothing  more.  He  said  even  this  as  if  he  were 
bound,  and  in  the  other's  power,  but  had  a  sullen  and 
suppressed  devil  within  him,  which  he  could  not  quite  re- 
sist. His  very  gait,  as  they  walked  away  together,  was  like 
that  of  a  fettered  man  ;  but,  striving  to  work  out  at  his 
clenched  hands,  knitted  brows,  and  fast-set  lips,  was  the 
same  imprisoned  devil  still. 

They  got  into  a  handsome  cabriolet,  which  was  waiting 
for  them,  and  drove  away. 

The  whole  of  this  extraordinary  scene  had  passed  so 
rapidly,  and  the  tumult  which  prevailed  around  was  so  un- 
conscious of  any  impression  from  it,  that,  although  Tom 
had  been  one  of  the  chief  actors,  it  was  like  a  dream.  No 
one  had  noticed  him  after  they  had  left  the  packet.  He  had 
stood  behind  Jonas,  and  so  near  him,  that  he  could  not  help 
hearing  all  that  passsed.  He  had  stood  there,  with  his  sister 
on  his  arm,  expecting  and  hoping  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
explaining  his  strange  share  in  this  yet  stranger  business.  But 
Jonas  had  not  raised  his  eyes  from  the  ground  ;  no  one  else 
had  even  looked  toward  him  ;  and  before  he  could  resolve 
on  any  course  of  action  they  were  all  gone. 

He  gazed  round  for  his  landlord.  But  he  had  done 
that,  more  than  once  already,  and  no  such  man  was  to  be 
seen.  He  was  still  pursuing  this  search  with  his  eyes,  when 
he  saw  a  hand   beckoning   to  him  from  a  hackney-coach  ; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  629 

and  hurrying  toward  it,  found  it  was  Merry's.  She  ad- 
dressed him  hurriedly,  but  bent  out  of  the  window,  that  she 
might  not  be  overheard  by  her  companion,  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  said,  "  Good  Heaven,  what  is  it  ?  Why 
did  he  tell  me  last  night  to  prepare  for  a  long  journey,  and 
why  have  you  brought  us  back  like  crimnals  ?  Dear  Mr. 
Pinch  !  "  she  clasped  her  hands  distractedly,  "  be  merciful 
to  us.  Whatever  this  dreadful  secret  is,  be  merciful,  and 
God  will  bless  you  !  " 

"  If  any  power  of  mercy  lay  with  me,"  cried  Tom,  '*  trust 
me,  you  shouldn't  ask  in  vain.  But  I  am  far  more  ignorant 
and  weak  than  you." 

She  withdrew  into  the  coach  again,  and  he  saw  the  hand 
waving  toward  him  for  a  moment  ;  but  whether  in  reproach- 
fulness  or  incredulity,  or  misery,  or  grief,  or  sad  adieu,  or 
what  else,  he  could  not,  being  so  hurried,  understand.  She 
was  gone  now  ;  and  Ruth  and  he  were  left  to  walk  away, 
and  wonder. 

Had  Mr.  Nadgett  appointed  the  man  who  never  came,  to 
meet  him  upon  London  Bridge  that  morning  ?  He  was  cer- 
tainly looking  over  the  parapet,  and  down  upon  the 
steamboat  wharf  at  that  moment.  It  could  not  have  been 
for  pleasure  ;  he  never  took  pleasure.  No.  He  must  have 
had  some  business  there. 


CHAPTER  XLL 

MR.  JONAS  AND  HIS  FRIEND,  ARRIVING  AT  A  PLEASANT  UNDER- 
STANDING, SET  FORTH  UPON  AN    ENTERPRISE. 

The  office  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and 
Life  Assurance  Company  being  near  at  hand,  and  Mr.  Mon- 
tague driving  Jonas  straight  there,  they  had  very  little  way 
to  go.  But  the  journey  might  have  been  one  of  several  hours' 
duration,  without  provoking  a  remark  from  either  ;  for  it 
was  clear  that  Jonas  did  not  mean  to  break  the  silence 
which  prevailed  between  them,  and  that  it  was  not,  as  yet, 
his  dear  friend's  cue  to  tempt  him  into  conversation. 

He  had  thrown  aside  his  cloak,  as  having  now  no  motive 
for  concealment,  and  with  that  garment  huddled  on  his 
knees  sat  as  far  removed  from  his  companion  as  the  limited 
space  in  such  a  carriage  would  allow.  There  was  a  striking 
difference  in  his  manner,  compared  with  what  it  had  been, 


6SO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

within  a  few  minutes,  w-hen  Tom  encountered  him  so  unex- 
pectedly on  board  the  packet,  or  when  the  ugly  change  had 
fallen  on  him  in  Mr.  Montague's  dressing-room.  He  had 
the  aspect  of  a  man  found  out,  and  held  at  bay;  of  being 
baffled,  hunted,  and  beset;  but  there  was  now  a  dawning  and 
increasing  purpose  in  his  face,  which  changed  it  very  much. 
It  was  gloomy,  distrustful,  lowering;  pale  with  anger,  and 
defeat;  it  still  was  humbled,  abject,  cowardly,  and  mean;  but 
let  the  conflict  go  on  as  it  would,  there  was  one  strong  pur- 
pose wrestling  with  every  emotion  of  his  mind,  and  casting 
the  whole  series  down  as  they  arose. 

Not  prepossessing  in  appearance,  at  the  best  of  times,  it 
may  readily  be  supposed  that  he  was  not  so  now.  He  had 
left  deep  marks  of  his  front  teeth  in  his  nether  lip;  and  those 
tokens  of  the  agitation  he  had  lately  undergone,  improved 
his  looks  as  little  as  the  heavy  corrugations  in  his  forehead. 
But  he  was  self-possessed  now;  unnaturally  self-possessed, 
indeed,  as  men  quite  otherwise  than  brave  are  known  to  be 
in  desperate  extremities;  and  when  the  carriage  stopped,  he 
waited  for  no  invitation,  but  leaped  hardily  out,  and  went 
up  stairs. 

The  chairman  followed  him;  and  closing  the  board-room 
door  as  soon  as  they  had  entered,  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa. 
Jonas  stood  before  the  window,  looking  down  into  the  street; 
and  leaned  against  the  sash,  resting  his  head  upon  his  arms. 

*'  This  is  not  handsome,  Chuzzlewit !  "  said  Montague  at 
length.     "  Not  handsome,  upon  my  soul  !  " 

"  What  would  you  have  me  to  do  ? "  he  answered,  looking 
round  abruptly;  "  what  do  you  expect  ?" 

'^  Confidence,  my  good  follow.  Some  confidence  !  "  said 
Montague,  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  Ecod  !  You  show  great  confidence  in  me,"  retorted 
Jonas.     "  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Do  I  not  ? "  said  his  companion,  raising  his  head,  and 
looking  at  him,  but  he  had  turned  again.  ''  Do  I  not  ?  Have 
I  not  confided  to  you  the  easy  schemes  I  have  formed  for 
our  advantage  ;  oz/r  advantage,  mind  ;  not  mine  alone  ;  and 
what  is  my  return  ?     Attempted  flight  !  " 

''  How  do  you  know  that  ?     Who  said  I  meant  to  fly  !  " 

"  Who  said  !  Come,  come.  A  foreign  boat,  my  friend, 
an  early  hour,  a  figure  wrapped  up  for  disguise  !  Who  said  ? 
If  you  didn't  mean  to  jilt  me,  why  were  you  there  .'*  If  you 
didn't  mean  to  jilt  me,  why  did  you  come  back  ? " 

**  I  came  back,"  said  Jonas,  "  to  avoid  disturbance." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWiT.  631 

"  You  were  wise,"  rejoined  his  friend. 

Jonas  stood  quite  silent;  still  looking  down  in  the  street, 
md  resting  his  head  upon  his  arms. 

**  Now,  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Montague,  "  notwithstanding 
what  has  passed,  I  will  be  plain  with  you.  Are  you  attend- 
ing to  me  there  ?     I  only  see  your  back." 

"  J  hear  you.     Go  on." 

"  I  say  that  notwithstanding  what  has  passed,  I  will  bs 
plain  with  you." 

"  You  said  that  before.  And  I  have  told  you  once,  I 
heard  you  say  it.     Go  on." 

"  You  are  a  little  chafed,  but  I  can  make  allowance  for 
that,  and  am,  fortunately,  myself  in  the  very  best  of  tempers. 
Now,  let  us  see  how  circumstances  stand.  A  day  or  two  ago, 
I  mentioned  to  you,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  thought  I  had 
discovered " 

*' Will  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  "  said  Jonas,  looking  fiercely 
round,  and  glancing  at  the  door. 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  Montague.  ''  Judicious  !  Quite  cor- 
rect !  My  discoveries  being  published,  would  be  like  many 
other  men's  discoveries  in  this  honest  world ;  of  no  further  use 
to  me.  You  see,  Chuzzlewit,  how  ingenuous  and  frank  I  am 
in  showing  you  the  weakness  of  my  own  position!  To  return. 
I  make,  or  think  I  make,  a  certain  discovery,  which  I  take  an 
early  opportunity  of  mentioning  in  your  ear,  in  that  spirit  of 
confidence  which  I  really  hoped  did  prevail  between  us,  and 
was  reciprocated  by  you.  Perhaps  there  is  something  in  it  ; 
perhaps  there  is  nothing.  I  have  my  knowledge  and  opinion 
on  the  subject.  You  have  yours.  We  will  not  discuss  the 
question.  But,  my  good  fellow,  you  have  been  weak  ;  what  I 
wish  to  point  out  to  you  is,  that  you  have  been  weak.  I  may 
desire  to  turn  this  little  incident  to  my  account  (indeed,  I  do 
— I'll  not  deny  it),  but  my  account  does  not  lie  in  probing  it, 
or  using  it  against  you." 

"  What  do  you  call  using  it  against  me  ? "  asked  Jonas, 
who  had  not  yet  changed  his  attitude. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Montague,  with  a  laugh.  ''  We'll  not  enter 
into  that." 

"  Using  it,  to  make  a  beggar  of  me.  Is  that  the  use  you 
mean  ? " 

"  No." 

'*  Ecod,"  muttered  Jonas,  bitterly.  "  That's  the  use  in 
which  your  account  {/oes  lie.     You  speak  the  truth  there." 

"  I  wish  you  to  venture  (it's  a  very  safe   venture)   a  little 


032  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

more  with  us,  certainly,  and  to  keep  quiet,"  said  Montague. 
"You  promised  me  you  would;  and  you  must.  I  say  it 
plainly,  Chuzzlewit,  you  mus  r.  Reason  the  matter.  If  you 
don't,  my  secret  is  worthless  to  me  ;  and  being  so,  it  may  as 
well  become  the  public  property  as  mine  :  better,  for  I  shall 
gain  some  credit,  bringing  it  to  light.  I  want  you,  besides,  to 
act  as  a  decoy  in  a  case  I  have  already  told  you  of.  You 
don't  mind  that,  I  know.  You  care  nothing  for  the  man 
(you  care  nothing  for  any  man  ;  you  are  too  sharp;  so  am  I, 
I  hope)  ;  and  could  bear  any  loss  of  his,  with  pious  fortitude. 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  You  have  tried  to  escape  from  the  first  conse- 
quence. You  can  not  escape  it,  I  assure  you.  I  have  shown 
you  that,  to-day.  Now,  I  am  not  a  moral  man,  you  know.  I 
am  not  the  least  in  the  world  affected  by  any  thing  you  may 
have  done;  by  any  little  indiscretion  you  may  have  committed ; 
but  I  wish  to  profit  by  it,  if  I  can;  and  to  a  man  of  your  in- 
telligence I  make  that  free  confession.  I  am  not  at  all  singular 
in  that  infirmity.  Everybody  profits  by  the  indiscretion  of 
his  neighbor  ;  and  the  people  in  the  best  repute,  the  most. 
Why  do  you  give  me  this  trouble  ?  It  must  come  to  a 
friendly  agreement,  or  an  unfriendly  crash.  It  must.  If  the 
former,  you  are  very  little  hurt.  If  the  latter — well  !  you 
know  best  what  is  likely  to  happen  then." 

Jonas  left  the  window,  and  walked  up  close  to  him.  He 
did  not  look  him  in  the  face;  it  was  not  his  habit  to  do  that; 
but  he  kept  his  eyes  toward  him — on  his  breast,  or  there- 
about— and  was  at  great  pains  to  speak  slowly  and  distinctly, 
in  reply.  Just  as  a  man  in  a  state  of  conscious  drunkenness 
might  be. 

"  Lying  is  of  no  use,  now,"  he  said.  "  I  did  think  of  get- 
ting away  this  morning,  and  making  better  terms  with  you 
from  a  distance." 

"  To  be  sure  !  To  be  sure  !  "  replied  Montague.  *'  Noth- 
ing more  natural.  I  foresaw  that,  and  provided  against  it. 
But  I  am  afraid  I  am  interrupting  you." 

''  How  the  devil,"  pursued  Jonas,  with  a  still  greater  effort, 
"  you  made  choice  of  your  messenger,  and  where  you  found 
him,  I'll  not  ask  you.  I  owed  him  one  good  turn  before  to- 
day. If  you  are  so  careless  of  men  in  general,  as  you  said 
you  were  just  now,  you  are  quite  indifferent  to  what  becomes 
of  such  a  crop-tailed  cur  as  that,  and  will  leave  me  to  settle 
my  account  with  him  in  my  own  manner." 

If  he  had  raised  his  eyes  to  his  comj)anion's  face,  he  would 
have  seen  that  Montague  was  evidently  unable  to  compre- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  6^3 

hend  his  meaning.  But,  continuing  to  stand  before  him, 
with  his  furtive  gaze  directed  as  before,  and  pausing  here, 
only  to  moisten  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  the  fact  was  lost 
upon  him.  It  might  have  struck  a  close  observer  that  this 
fixed  and  steady  glance  of  Jonas's,  was  a  part  of  the  altera- 
tion which  had  taken  place  in  his  demeanor.  He  kept  it 
riveted  on  one  spot,  with  which  his  thoughts  had  manifestly 
nothing  to  do  ;  like  as  a  juggler  walking  on  a  cord  or  wire  to 
any  dangerous  end,  holds  some  object  in  his  sight  to  steady 
him,  and  never  wanders  from  it,  lest  he  trip. 

Montas^ue  was  quick  in  his  rejoinder,  though  he  made  it 
at  a  venture.  There  was  no  difference  of  opinion  between 
^im  and  his  friend  on  t/iaf  point.     Not  the  least. 

*' Your  great  discovery,"  Jonas  proceeded,  with  a  savage 
sneer  that  got  the  better  of  him  for  the  moment,  *'  may  be  true 
and  may  be  false.  Whichever  it  is,  I  dare  say  I'm  no  worse 
than  other  men," 

''  Not  a  bit,"  said  Tigg.  "  Not  a  bit.  We're  all  alike— 
or  nearly  so." 

"  I  want  to  know  this,"  Jonas  went  on  to  say;  "  is  it  your 
own  ?     You'll  not  wonder  at  my  asking  the  question." 

"  My  own  !  "  repeated  Montague. 

"  Ay  !  "  returned  the  other,  gruffly.  "  Is  it  known  to  any 
body  else  ?     Come  !     Don't  waver  about  that." 

"  No  !  "  said  Montague,  without  the  smallest  hesitation. 
"  What  would  it  be  worth,  do  you  think,  unless  I  had  the 
keeping  of  it  ?  " 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Jonas  looked  at  him.  After  a  pause 
he  put  out  his  hand,  and  said,  with  a  laugh  : 

"  Come  !  make  things  easy  to  me,  and  I'm  yours.  I  don't 
know  that  I  may  not  be  better  off  here,  after  all,  than  if  I  had 
gone  away  this  morning.  But  here  I  am,  and  here  I'll  stay 
now.     Take  your  oath  !  " 

He  cleared  his  throat,  for  he  was  speaking  hoarsely,  and 
said  in  a  lighter  tone: — 

"  Shall  I  go  to  Pecksniff  ?     When  }     Say  when  !  " 

"  Immediately  !"  cried  Montague.  "  He  can  not  be  enticed 
too  soon." 

"  Ecod  !  "  cried  Jonas,  with  a  wild  laugh.  "  There's  some 
fun  in  catching  that  old  hypocrite.  I  hate  him.  Shall  I  go 
to-night  ?  " 

"  Ay  !  This,"  said  Montague,  ecstatically,  "  is  like  busi- 
ness !  We  understand  each  other  now  !  To-night,  my  good 
fellow,  by  all  means." 


634  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Come  with  me,"  cried  Jonas.  "  We  must  make  a  dash  : 
go  down  in  state,  and  carry  documents,  for  he's  a  deep  file  to 
deal  with,  and  must  be  drawn  on  with  an  artful  hand,  or  he'll 
not  follow.  I  know  him.  As  I  can't  take  your  lodgings  or 
your  dinners  down,  I  must  take  you.  Will  you  come 
to-night?" 

His  friend  appeared  to  hesitate;  and  neither  to  have  anti- 
cipated this  proposal,  nor  to  relish  it  very  much. 

"  We  can  concert  our  plans  upon  the  road,"  said  Jonas. 
"  We  must  not  go  direct  to  him,  but  cross  over  from  some 
other  place,  and  turn  out  of  our  way  to  see  him.  I  may  not 
want  to  introduce  you,  but  I  must  have  you  on  the  spot.  1 
know  the  man,  I  tell  you." 

"  But,  what  if  the  man  knows  me  ? "  said  Montague, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

**  He  know  I"  cried  Jonas.  "  Don*t  you  run  that  risk  with 
fifty  men  a  day  !  Would  your  father  know  you  ?  Did  / 
know  you  ?  Ecod  !  you  were  another  figure  when  I  saw  you 
first.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  see  the  rents  and  patches  now  !  No 
false  hair  then,  no  black  dye  !  You  were  another  sort  of 
joker,  in  those  days,  you  were  !  You  even  spoke  different, 
then.  You've  acted  the  gentleman  so  seriously  since,  that 
you've  taken  in  yourself.  If  he  should  know  you,  what  does 
it  matter.?  Such  a  change  is  a  proof  of  your  success.  You 
know  that,  or  you  would  not  have  made  yourself  known  to 
me.     Will  you  come  ?  " 

"  My  good  fellow,"  said  Montague,  still  hesitating,  **  I  can 
trust  you  alone." 

"  Trust  me  !  Ecod,  you  may  trust  me  now  far  enough. 
"  I'll  try  to  go  away  no  more — no  more  !  "  He  stopped,  and 
added  in  a  more  sober  tone.  "  I  can't  get  on  without  you. 
W  ill  you  come  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Montague,  **  if  that's  your  opinion,"  and  they 
shook  hands  upon  it. 

The  boisterous  manner  which  Jonas  had  exhibited  during 
the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  and  which  had  gone  on 
rapidly  increasing  with  almost  every  word  he  had  spoken — 
from  the  time  when  he  looked  his  honorable  friend  in  the 
face  until  now — did  not  now  subside,  but,  remaining  at  its 
height,  abided  by  him.  Most  unusual  with  him  at  any  period; 
most  inconsistent  with  his  temper  and  constitution — espe- 
cially unnatural  it  would  appear  in  one  so  darkly  circum- 
stanced; it  abided  by  him.  It  was  not  like  the  effect  of  wine, 
or  any  ardent  drink,  for  he  was  perfectly  coherent.     It  even 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  635 

made  him  proof  against  the  usual  influence  of  such  means  of 
excitement;  for,  although  he  drank  deeply  several  times  that 
day,  with  no  reserve  or  caution,  he  remained  exactly  the 
same  man,  and  his  spirits  neither  rose  nor  fell  in  the  least 
observable  degree. 

Deciding,  after  some  discussion,  to  travel  at  night,  in 
order  that  the  day's  business  might  not  be  broken  in  upon, 
they  took  council  together  in  reference  to  the  means.  Mr. 
Montague  being  of  opinion  that  four  horses  were  advisable, 
at  all  events  for  the  first  stage,  as  throwing  a  great  deal  of  dust 
into  people's  eyes,  in  more  senses  than  one,  a  traveling  char- 
iot and  four  lay  under  orders  for  nine  o'clock.  Jonas  did  not 
go  home,  observing,  that  his  being  obliged  to  leave  town  on 
business  in  so  great  a  hurry,  would  be  a  good  excuse  for  hav- 
ing turned  back  so  unexpectedly  in  the  morning.  So  he  wrote 
a  note  for  his  portmanteau,  and  sent  it  by  a  messenger,  who 
duly  brought  his  luggage  back,  with  a  short  note  from  that 
other  piece  of  luggage,  his  wife,  expressive  of  her  wish  to 
be  allowed  to  come  and  see  him  for  a  moment.  To  this 
request  he  sent  for  answer,  "  she  had  better  ;  "  and  one  such 
threatening  affirmative  being  sufficient,  in  defiance  of  the 
English  grammar,  to  express  a  negative,  she  kept  away. 

Mr.  Montague,  being  much  engaged  in  the  course  of  the 
day,  Jonas  bestowed  his  spirits  chiefly  on  the  doctor,  with 
whom  he  lunched  in  the  medical  officer's  own  office.  On  his 
way  thither,  encountering  Mr.  Nadgett  in  the  outer  room,  he 
bantered  that  stealthy  gentleman  on  always  appearing  anx- 
ious to  avoid  him,  and  inquired  if  he  were  afraid  of  him. 
Mr.  Nadgett  slyly  answered,  "  No,  but  he  believed  it  must  be 
his  way,  as  he  had  been  charged  with  much  the  same  kind 
of  thing  before." 

Mr.  Montague  was  listening  to,  or,  to  speak  with  greater 
elegance,  he  overheard,  this  dialogue.  As  soon  as  Jonas  was 
gone,  he  beckoned  Nadgett  to  him  with  the  feather  of  his 
pen,  and  whispered  in  his  ear, 

"  Who  gave  him  my  letter  this  morning  ? " 

"  My  lodger,  sir,"  said  Nadgett  behind  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"  How  came  that  about  ?  " 

"  I  found  him  on  the  wharf,  sir.  Being  so  much  hurried, 
and  you  not  arrived,  it  was  necessary  to  do  something.  It 
fortunately  occurred  to  me,  that  if  I  gave  it  him  myself,  I 
could  be  of  no  further  use.  I  should  have  been  blown  upon 
immediately." 


6y3  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT. 

"  Mr.  Nadgett,  you  are  a  jewel."  said  Montague,  patting 
him  on  the  back.     "  What's  your  lodger's  name  ?  " 

"  Pinch,  sir.     Mr.  Thomas  Pinch." 

Montague  reflected  for  a  little  while,  and  then  asked  : 

"  From  the  country,  do  you  know  ?  " 

"From  Wiltshire,  sir,  he  told  me." 

They  parted  without  another  word.  To  see  Mr.  Nadgett's 
bow  when  Montague  and  he  next  met,  and  to  see  Mr.  Mon- 
tague acknowledge  it,  any  body  might  have  undertaken  to 
swear  that  they  had  never  spoken  to  each  other  confiden- 
tially, in  all  their  lives. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Jonas  and  the  doctor  made  them- 
selves very  comfortable  up-stairs,  over  a  bottle  of  the  old 
Madeira,  and  some  sandwiches  ;  for  the  doctor  having  been 
already  invited  to  dine  below  at  six  o'clock,  preferred  a  light 
repast  for  lunch.  It  was  advisable,  he  said,  in  two  points  of 
view  ;  first  as  being  healthy  in  itself.  Secondly,  as  being 
the  better  preparation  for  dinner. 

'*  And  you  are  bound  for  all  our  sakes  to  take  particu- 
lar care  of  your  digestion,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
the  doctor,  smacking  his  lips  after  a  glass  of  wine  ;  "  for 
depend  upon  it,  it  is  worth  preserving.  It  must  be  in 
admirable  condition,  sir  ;  perfect  chronometer-work.  Other- 
wise your  spirits  could  not  be  so  remarkable.  Your  bosom's 
lord  sits  lightly  on  its  throne,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  what's-his- 
name  says  in  the  play.  I  wish  he  said  it  in  a  play  which 
did  any  thing  like  common  justice  to  our  profession,  by-the- 
by.  There  is  an  apothecary  in  that  drama,  sir,  which  is  a 
low  thing  ;  vulgar,  sir  ;  out  of  nature  altogether." 

Mr.  Jobling  pulled  out  his  shirt-frill  of  fine  linen  as  though 
he  would  have  added,  "  this  is  what  I  call  nature  in  a  medical 
man,  sir  ;  "  and  looked  at  Jonas  for  an  observation. 

Jonas  not  being  in  a  condition  to  pursue  the  subject, 
took  up  a  case  of  lancets  that  was  lying  on  the  table  and 
opened  it. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  doctor  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  "  I 
always  take  'em  out  of  my  pocket  before  I  eat.  My  pockets 
are  rather  tight.     Ha,  ha,  ha !  " 

Jonas  had  opened  one  of  the  shining  little  instruments  ; 
and  was  scrutinizing  it  with  a  look  as  sharp  and  eager  as  its 
own  bright  edge. 

"  Good  steel,  doctor.     Good  steel  !    Eh  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,"  replied  the  doctor,  with  the  faltering  modesty  of 
ownership.  "  One  might  open  a  vein  pretty  dexterously  with 
that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  637 

"  It  has  opened  a  good  many  in  its  time,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  Jonas,  looking  at  it  with  a  growing  interest. 

"  Not  a  few,  my  dear  sir,  not  a  few.  It  has  been  engaged 
in  a — in  a  pretty  good  practice,  I  beUeve  I  may  say,"  replied 
the  doctor,  coughing  as  if  the  matter-of-fact  were  so  very  dry 
and  literal  that  he  could  not  help  it.  "  In  a  pretty  good  prac- 
tice," repeated  the  doctor,  putting  another  glass  of  wine  to 
his  lips. 

"  Now,  could  you  cut  a  man's  throat  with  such  a  thing  as 
this  ?  "  demanded  Jonas. 

"  Oh  certainly,  certainly,  if  you  took  him  in  the  right  place," 
returned  the  doctor.     "  It  all  depends  upon  that." 

"  Where  you  have  your  hand  now,  hey  ? "  cried  Jonas, 
bending  forward  to  look  at  it. 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  that's  the  jugular." 

Jonas,  in  his  vivacity,  made  a  sudden  sawing  in  the  air,  so 
close  behind  the  doctor's  jugular,  that  he  turned  quite  red. 
Then  Jonas  (in  the  same  strange  spirit  of  vivacity)  burst 
into  a  loud  discordant  laugh. 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  edge  tools, 
edge  tools  ;  never  play  with  'em.  A  very  remarkable  in- 
stance of  the  skillful  use  of  edge  tools,  by  the  way,  occurs 
to  me  at  this  moment.  It  was  a  case  of  murder.  I  am 
afraid  it  was  a  case  of  murder,  committed  by  a  member  of 
our  profession  ;  it  was  so  artistically  done." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Jonas.     "  How  was  that  ? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Jobling,  *'  the  thing  lies  in  a  nut- 
shell. A  certain  gentleman  was  found  one  morning,  in  an 
obscure  street,  lying  in  an  angle  of  a  doorway, — I  should 
rather  say,  leaning,  in  an  upright  position,  in  the  angle  of 
a  doorway,  and  supported  consequently  dy  the  doorway. 
Upon  his  waistcoat  there  was  one  solitary  drop  of  blood. 
He  was  dead,  and  cold  ;  and  had  been  murdered,  sir." 

**  Only  one  drop  of  blood  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"Sir,  that  man,"  replied  the  doctor,  ''had  been  stabbed 
to  the  heart.  Had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart  with  such 
dexterity,  sir,  that  he  had  died  instantly,  and  had  bled  inter- 
nally. It  was  supposed  that  a  medical  friend  of  his  (to  whom 
suspicion  attached)  had  engaged  him  in  conversation  on 
some  pretense  ;  had  taken  him,  very  likely,  by  the  button  in 
a  conversational  manner  ;  had  examined  his  ground  at  leis- 
ure with  his  other  hand  ;  had  marked  the  exact  spot  ;  drawn 
out  the  instrument,  whatever  it  was,  when  he  was  quite  pre- 
pared ;  and — " 


$38  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  And  done  the  trick,"  suggested  Jones. 

**  Exactly  so,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  It  was  quite  an  op- 
eration in  its  way,  and  very  neat.  The  medical  friend  never 
turned  up  ;  and  as  I  tell  you,  he  had  the  credit  of  it. 
Whether  he  did  it  or  not,  I  can't  say.  But,  having  had  the 
honor  to  be  called  in  with  two  or  three  of  my  professional 
brethren  on  the  occasion,  and  having  assisted  to  make  a 
careful  examination  of  the  wound,  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  it  would  have  reflected  credit  on  any  medical 
man  ;  and  that  in  an  unprofessional  person,  it  could  not  but 
be  considered,  either  as  an  extraordinary  work  of  art,  or  the 
result  of  a  still  more  extraordinary,  happy,  and  favorable 
conjunction  of  circumstances." 

His  hearer  was  so  much  interested  in  this  case,  that  the 
doctor  went  on  to  elucidate  it  with  the  assistance  of  his  own 
finger  and  thumb  and  waistcoat  ;  and  at  Jonas's  request, "he 
took  the  further  trouble  of  going  into  a  corner  of  the  room, 
and  alternately  representing  the  murdered  man  and  the  mur- 
derer ;  which  he  did  with  great  effect.  The  bottle  being 
emptied  and  the  story  done,  Jonas  was  in  precisely  the  same 
boisterous  and  unusual  state  as  when  they  had  sat  down.  If, 
as  Jobling  theorized,  his  good  digestion  were  the  cause,  he 
must  have  been  a  very  ostrich. 

At  dinner,  it  was  just  the  same  ;  and  after  dinner  too  ; 
though  wine  was  drunk  in  abundance,  and  various  rich  meats 
eaten.  At  nine  o'clock  it  was  still  the  same.  There  being  a 
a  lamp  in  the  carriage,  he  swore  they  would  take  a  pack  of 
cards  and  a  bottle  of  wine  :  and  with  these  things  under  his 
cloak,  went  down  to  the  door. 

**  Out  of  the  way,  Tom  Thumb,  and  get  to  bed  !  " 

This  was  the  salutation  he  bestowed  on  Mr.  Bailey,  who, 
booted  and  wrapped  up,  stood  at  the  carriage-door  to  help 
him  in. 

*'  To  bed,  sir  !     I'm  agoing,  too,"  said  Bailey. 

He  alighted  quickly,  and  walked  back  into  the  hall,  where 
Montague  was  lighting  a  cigar,  conducting  Mr.  Bailey  with 
him  by  the  collar. 

"  You  are  not  agoing  to  take  this  monkey  of  a  boy,  are 
you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Montague. 

He  gave  the  boy  a  shake,  and  threw  him  roughly  aside. 
There  was  more  of  his  familiar  self  in  the  action,  than  in 
any  thing  he  had  done  that  day  ;  but  he  broke  out  laughing 
immediately  afterward,  and  making  a  thrust  at  the  doctor 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  639 

with  his  hand,  in  imitation  of  his  representation  of  the 
medical  friend,  went  out  to  the  carriage  again,  and  took  his 
seat.  His  companion  followed  immediately.  Mr.  Bailey 
climbed  into  the  rumble. 

*'  It  will  be  a  stormy  night !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  as  they 
started. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

CONTINUATION    OF    THE    ENTERPRISE  OF    MR.    JONAS   AND    HIS 

FRIEND. 

The  doctor's  prognostication  in  reference  to  the  weather 
was  speedily  verified.  Although  the  weather  was  not  a 
patient  of  his,  and  no  third  party  had  required  him  to  give 
an  opinion  on  the  case,  the  quick  fulfillment  of  his  prophecy 
may  be  taken  as  an  instance  of  his  professional  tact;  for, 
unless  the  threatening  aspect  of  the  night  had  been  perfectly 
plain  and  unmistakable,  Mr.  Jobling  would  never  have  com- 
promised his  reputation  by  delivering  any  sentiments  on  the 
subject.  He  used  this  principle  in  medicine  with  too  much 
success,  to  be  unmindful  of  it  in  his  commonest  transac- 
tions. 

It  was  one  of  those  hot,  silent  nights,  when  people  sit  at 
windows,  listening  for  the  thunder  which  they  know  will 
shortly  break;  when  they  recall  dismal  tales  of  hurricanes 
and  earthquakes;  and  of  lonely  travelers  on  open  plains,  and 
lonely  ships  at  sea,  struck  by  lightning.  Lightning 
flashed  and  quivered  on  the  black  horizon  even  now;  and 
hollow  murmurings  were  in  the  wind,  as  though  it  had  been 
blowing  where  the  thunder  rolled,  and  still  was  charged  with 
its  exhausted  echoes.  But  the  storm,  though  gathering 
swiftly,  had  not  yet  come  up;  and  the  prevailing  stillness 
was  the  more  solemn,  from  the  dull  intelligence  that  seemed 
to  hover  in  the  air,  of  noise  and  conflict  afar  off. 

It  was  very  dark;  but  in  the  murky  sky  there  were  masses 
of  cloud  which  shone  with  a  lurid  light,  like  monstrous  heaps 
of  copper  that  had  been  heated  in  a  furnace,  and  were  grow- 
ing cold.  These  had  been  advancing  steadily  and  slowly, 
but  they  were  now  motionless,  or  nearly  so.  As  the  carriage 
clattered  round  the  corners  of  the  streets,  it  passed  at  every 
one,  a  knot  of  persons,  v/ho  had  come  there — many  from 
their  houses  close  at  hand,  without  hats — to  look  up  at  that 


640  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

quarter  of  the  sky.    And  now,  a  very  few  large  drops  of  rain 
began  to  fall,  and  thunder  rumbled  in  the  distance. 

Jonas  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  with  his  bottle  rest- 
ing on  his  knee,  and  gripped  as  tightly  in  his  hand,  as  if  he 
would  have  ground  its  neck  to  powder  if  he  could.  Instinct- 
ively attracted  by  the  night,  he  had  laid  aside  the  pack  of 
cards  upon  the  cushion;  and  with  the  same  involuntary  im- 
pulse, so  intelligible  to  both  of  them  as  not  to  occasion  a 
remark  on  either  side,  his  companion  had  extinguished  the 
lamp.  The  front  glasses  were  down;  and  they  sat  looking 
silently  out  upon  the  gloomy  scene  before  them. 

They  were  clear  of  London,  or  as  clear  of  it  as  travelers 
can  be,  whose  way  lies  on  the  western  road,  within  a  stage 
of  that  enormous  city.  Occasionally,  they  encountered  a 
foot-passenger,  hurrying  to  the  nearest  place  of  shelter;  or 
some  unwieldy  cart  proceeding  onward  at  a  heavy  trot,  with 
the  same  end  in  view.  Little  clusters  of  such  vehicles  were 
gathered  round  the  stable-yard  or  baiting-place  of  every  way- 
side tavern;  while  their  drivers  watched  the  weather  from 
the  doors  and  open  windows,  or  made  merry  within.  Every- 
where, the  people  were  disposed  to  bear  each  other  company, 
rather  than  sit  alone;  so  that  groups  of  watchful  faces 
seemed  to  be  looking  out  upon  the  night  and  the7Ji^  from 
almost  every  house  they  passed. 

It  may  appear  strange  that  this  should  have  disturbed 
Jonas,  or  rendered  him  uneasy;  but  it  did.  After  muttering 
to  himself,  and  often  changing  his  position,  he  drew  up  the 
blind  on  his  side  of  the  carriage,  and  turned  his  shoulder 
sulkily  toward  it.  But  he  neither  looked  at  his  companion, 
nor  broke  the  silence  which  prevailed  between  them,  and 
which  had  fallen  so  suddenly  upon  himself,  by  addressing  a 
word  to  him. 

The  thunder  rolled,  the  lightning  flashed;  the  rain  poured 
down,  like  heaven's  wrath.  Surrounded  at  one  moment  by 
intolerable  light,  and  at  the  next  by  pitchy  darkness,  they 
still  pressed  forward  on  their  journey.  Even  when  they 
arrived  at  the  end  of  the  stage,  and  might  have  tarried,  they 
did  not;  but  ordered  horses  out,  immediately.  Nor  had  this 
any  reference  to  some  five  minutes'  kill,  which  at  that  lime 
seemed  to  promise  a  cessation  of  the  storm.  They  held  their 
course  as  if  they  were  impelled  and  driven  by  its  fury. 
Although  they  had  not  exchanged  a  dozen  words,  and  might 
have  tarried  very  well,  they  seemed  to  feel,  by  joint  consent, 
that  onward  they  must  go. 


1 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  641 

Louder  and  louder  the  deep  thunder  rolled,  as  through  the 
myriad  halls  of  some  vast  temple  in  the  sky;  fiercer  and 
brighter  became  the  lightning;  more  and  more  heavily  the 
rain  poured  down.  The  horses  (they  were  traveling  now 
with  a  single  pair)  plunged  and  started  from  the  rills  of 
quivering  fire  that  seemed  to  wind  along  the  ground  be- 
fore them  ;  but  there  these  two  men  sat,  and  forward  they 
went  as  if  they  were  led  on  by  an  invisible  attraction. 

The  eye,  partaking  of  the  quickness  of  the  flashing  light, 
saw  in  its  every  gleam  a  multitude  of  objects  which  it  could 
not  see  at  steady  noon  in  fifty  times  that  period.  Bells  in 
steeples,  with  the  rope  and  wheel  that  moved  them  ;  ragged 
nests  of  birds  in  cornices  and  nooks  ;  faces  full  of  con- 
sternation in  the  tilted  wagons  that  came  tearing  past,  their 
frightened  teams  ringing  out  a  warning  which  the  thunder 
drowned  ;  harrows  and  plows  left  out  in  fields  ;  miles  upon 
miles  of  hedge-divided  country,  with  the  distant  fringe  of 
trees  as  obvious  as  the  scarecrow  in  the  beanfield  close  at 
hand  ;  in  a  trembling,  vivid,  flickering  instant,  every  thing 
was  clear  and  plain  ;  then  came  a  flush  of  red  into  the  yel- 
low light;  a  change  to  blue;  a  brightness  so  intense  that  there 
was  nothing  else  but  light;  and  the  deepest  and  profoundest 
darkness. 

The  lightning  being  very  crooked  and  very  dazzling,  may 
have  presented  or  assisted  a  curious  optical  illusion,  which 
suddenly  rose  before  the  startled  eyes  of  Montague  in  the 
carriage,  and  as  rapidly  disappeared.  He  thought  he  saw 
Jonas  with  his  hand  lifted,  and  the  bottle  clenched  in  it  like 
a  hammer,  making  as  if  he  would  aim  a  blow  at  his  head.  At 
the  same  time  he  observed  (or  so  believed),  an  expression  in 
his  face — a  combination  of  the  unnatural  excitement  he  had 
shown  all  day,  with  a  wild  hatred  and  fear — which  might 
have  rendered  a  wolf  a  less  terrible  companion. 

He  uttered  an  involuntary  exclamation,  and  called  to  the 
driver,  who  brought  his  horses  to  a  stop  with  all  speed. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  as  he  supposed;  for  although  he 
had  not  taken  his  eyes  off  his  companion,  and  had  not  seen 
him  move,  he  sat  reclining  in  his  corner  as  before. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Jonas.  "  Is  that  your  general 
way  of  waking  out  of  your  sleep  ?  " 

"  I  could  swear,"  returned  the  other,  "  that  I  have  not 
closed  my  eyes  !  " 

"  When  you  have  sworn  it,"  said  Jonas,  composedly,  "  we 
had  better  go  on  again,  if  you  have  only  stopped  for  that." 


642  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

He  uncorked  the  bottle  with  the  help  of  his  teeth  ;  and 
putting  it  to  his  lips,  took  a  long  draught. 

"  I  wish  we  had  never  started  on  this  journey.  This  is 
not,"  said  Montague,  recoiling  instinctively,  and  speaking  in 
a  voice  that  betrayed  his  agitation:  "  this  is  not  a  night  to 
travel  in." 

"  Ecod  !  you're  right  there,"  returned  Jonas  ;  '*  and  we 
shouldn't  be  out  in  it  but  for  you.  If  you  hadn't  kept  me 
waiting  all  day,  we  might  have  been  at  Salisbury  by  this 
time  ;  snug  abed  and  fast  asleep.  What  are  we  stopping 
for  ?  " 

His  companion  put  his  head  out  of  window  for  a  moment, 
and  drawing  it  in  again,  observed  (as  if  it  were  his  cause  of 
anxiety),  that  the  boy  was  drenched  to  the  skin. 

"  Serve  him  right,"  said  Jonas.  ''  I'm  glad  of  it.  What 
the  devil  are  we  stopping  for  ?  Are  you  going  to  spread  him 
out  to  dry  ?  " 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  take  him  inside,"  observed  the 
other  with  some  hesitation. 

^'  Oh  !  thankee  !  "  said  Jonas.  "  We  don't  want  any  damp 
boys  here,  especially  a  young  imp  like  him.  Let  him  be 
where  he  is.  He  ain't  afraid  of  a  little  thunder  and  lightning, 
I  dare  say  ;  whoever  he  is.  Go  on,  driver!  We  had  better 
have  Aim  inside  perhaps,"  he  muttered  with  a  laugh  ;  "  and 
the  horses  !  " 

*'  Don't  go  too  fast,"  cried  Montague  to  the  postilion  ; 
"and  take  care  how  you  go.  You  were  nearly  in  the  ditch 
when  I  called  to  you." 

This  was  not  true  ;  and  Jonas  bluntly  said  so,  as  they 
moved  forward  again.  Montague  took  little  or  no  heed  of 
what  he  said,  but  repeated  that  it  was  not  a  night  for  travel- 
ing, and  showed  himself,  both  then  and  afterward,  unusually 
anxious. 

From  this  time,  Jonas  recovered  his  former  spirits,  if  such 
a  term  may  be  employed  to  express  the  state  in  which  he  had 
left  the  city.  He  had  his  bottle  often  at  his  mouth  ;  roared 
out  snatches  of  songs,  without  the  least  regard  to  time  or  tune 
or  voice,  or  any  thing  but  loud  discordance;  and  urged  his 
silent  friend  to  be  merry  with  him. 

"  You're  the  best  company  in  the  world,  my  good  fellow," 
said  Montague  with  an  effort,  "  and  in  general  irresistible  ; 
but  to-night — do  you  hear  it  ?  " 

"  Ecod,  I  hear  and  see  it  too,"  cried  Jonas,  shading  his 
eyes,  for  the  moment,  from  the  lightning  which  was  flashing, 


I 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  643 

i\ot  in  any  one  direction,  but  all  around  them.  *'  What  of 
that  ?  It  don't  change  you,  nor  me,  nor  our  affairs.  Chorus, 
chorus  ! 

"  It  may  lighten  and  storm, 

Till  it  hunt  the  red  worm 
From  the  grass  where  the  gibbet  is  driven; 

But  it  can't  hurt  the  dead, 

And  it  won't  save  the  head 
That  is  doom'd  to  be  rifled  and  riven. 

That  must  be  a  precious  old  song,"  he  added  with  an  oath, 
as  he  stopped  short  in  a  kind  of  wonder  at  himself.  "  I 
haven't  heard  it  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  how  it  comes  into  my 
head  now,  unless  the  lightning  put  it  there,  I  don't  know. 
*  Can't  hurt  the  dead  ! '  No,  no.  '  And  won't  save  the 
head  ! '     No,  no.     No  !     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

His  mirth  was  of  such  a  savage  and  extraordinary  charac- 
ter, and  was,  in  an  inexplicable  way,  at  once  so  suited  to  the 
night,  and  yet  such  a  coarse  intrusion  on  its  terrors,  that  his 
fellow-traveler,  always  a  coward,  shrunk  from  him  in  positive 
fear.  Instead  of  Jonas  being  his  tool  and  instrument,  their 
places  seemed  to  be  reversed.  But  there  was  reason  for  this 
too,  Montague  thought  ;  since  the  sense  of  his  debasement 
might  naturally  inspire  such  a  man  with  a  wish  to  assert  a 
noisy  independence,  and  in  that  license  forget  his  real 
condition.  Being  quick  enough  in  reference  to  such  subjects 
of  contem.plation,  he  was  not  long  in  taking  this  argument 
into  account,  and  giving  it  its  full  weight.  But,  still,  he  felt 
a  vague  sense  of  alarm,  and  was  depressed  and  uneasy. 

He  was  certain  he  had  not  been  asleep  ;  but  his  eyes 
might  have  deceived  him  ;  for,  looking  at  Jonas  now  in  any 
interval  of  darkness,  he  could  represent  his  figure  to  him- 
self in  any  attitude  his  state  of  mind  suggested.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  knew  full  well  that  Jonas  had  no  reason  to 
love  him  ;  and  even  taking  the  piece  of  pantomime  which 
had  so  impressed  his  mind  to  be  a  real  gesture,  and  not  the 
working  of  his  fancy,  the  most  that  could  be  said  of  it,  was, 
that  it  v/as  quite  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  his  diabolical 
fun,  and  had  the  same  impotent  expression  of  truth  in  it. 
"If  he  could  kill  me  with  a  wish,"  thought  the  swindler,  "  I 
should  not  live  long." 

He  resolved  that  when  he  should  have  had  his  use  of 
Jonas,  he  w^ould  restrain  him  with  an  iron  curb  ;  in  the 
meantime,  that  he  could  not  do  better  than  leave  him  to 
take  his  own  way,  and  preserve  his  own  peculiar  description 


644  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

of  good-humor,   after  his  own  uncommon  manner.     It  was. 
no  great  sacrifice   to  bear  with  him  ;  "  for  when  all  is  got 
that  can  be  got,"  thought  Montague,  ''I  shall  decamp  across 
the  water,  and  have  the  laugh  on  my  side — and   the  gains." 

Such  were  his  reflections  from  hour  to  hour  ;  his  state  of 
mind  being  one  in  which  the  same  thoughts  constantly  pre- 
sent themselves  over  and  over  again  in  wearisome  repetition  ; 
while  Jonas,  who  appeared  to  have  dismissed  reflection  alto- 
gether, entertained  himself  as  before.  They  agreed  that 
they  would  go  to  Salisbury,  and  would  cross  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's in  the  morning  ;  and  at  the  prospect  of  deluding  that 
worthy  gentleman,  the  spirit  of  his  amiable  son-in-lav/ 
became  more  boisterous  than  ever. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  the  thunder  died  away,  but  still 
rolled  gloomily  and  mournfully  in  the  distance.  The  light- 
ning too,  though  now  comparatively  harmless,  was  yet  bright 
and  frequent.  The  rain  was  quite  as  violent  as  it  had  ever 
been. 

It  was  their  ill-fortune,  at  about  the  time  of  dawn  and  in 
the  last  stage  of  their  journey,  to  have  a  restive  pair  of 
horses.  These  animals  had  been  greatly  terrified  in  their 
stable  by  the  tempest  ;  and  coming  out  into  the  dreary  inter- 
val between  night  and  morning,  when  the  glare  of  the  light- 
ning was  yet  unsubdued  by  day,  and  the  various  objects  in 
their  view  were  presented  in  indistinct  and  exaggerated 
shapes  which  they  would  not  have  worn  by  night,  they  grad- 
ually became  less  and  less  capable  of  control  ;  until,  taking  a 
sudden  fright  at  something  by  the  roadside,  they  dashed  off 
wildly  down  a  steep  hill,  flung  the  driver  from  his  saddle, 
drew  the  carriage  to  the  brinkof  a  ditch,  stumbled  head  long 
down  and  threw  it  crashing  over. 

The  travelers  had  opened  the  carriage  door,  and  had 
either  jumped  or  fallen  out.  Jonas  was  the  first  to  stagger 
to  his  feet.  He  felt  sick  and  weary,  and  very  giddy,  and, 
reeling  to  the  five-barred  gate,  stood  holding  by  it,  looking 
drowsily  about  as  the  whole  landscape  swam  before  his  eyes. 
But,  by  degrees,  he  grew  more  conscious,  and  presently 
observed  that  Montague  was  lying  senseless  in  the  road, 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  horses. 

In  an  instant,  as  if  his  own  faint  body  were  suddenly  ani- 
mated by  a  demon,  he  ran  to  the  horses'  heads  ;  and  pull- 
ing at  their  bridles  with  all  his  force,  set  them  struggling 
and  plunging  with  such  mad  violence  as  brought  their  hoofs 
at  every  effort  nearer  to  the  skull  of  the  prostrate  man  ;  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  645 

must  have  led   in  half  a  minute  to  his  brains  being  dashed 
out  on  the  highway. 

As  he  did  this  he  fought  and  contended  with  them  like  a 
man  possessed,  making  them  wilder  by  his  cries. 

"  Whoop  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  Whoop  !  again  !  another  ! 
A  little  more,  a  little  more  !     Up,  ye  devils  !     Hillo  !  " 

As  he  heard  the  driver,  who  had  risen  and  was  hurrying 
up,  crying  to  him  to  desist,  his  violence  increased. 

"Hillo!  Hillo!"  cried  Jonas. 

"For  God's  sake  !  "  cried  the  driver.  "  The  gentleman — 
in  the  road — he'll  be  killed  !  " 

The  same  shouts  and  the  same  struggle  were  his  only 
answer.  But  the  man  darting  in  at  the  peril  of  his  ov/n  life, 
saved  Montague's  by  dragging  him  through  the  mire  and 
water  out  of  the  reach  of  present  harm.  That  done,  he  ran 
to  Jonas  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  his  knife  they  very  shortly 
disengaged  the  horses  from  the  broken  chariot,  and  got 
them,  cut  and  bleeding,  on  heir  legs  again.  The  postilion 
and  Jonas  had  now  leisure  to  look  at  each  other,  which  they 
had  not  had  yet. 

"Presence  of  mind,  presence  of  mind!"  cried  Jonas, 
throwing  up  his  hands  wildly.  "  What  would  you  have 
done  without  me  !  " 

*'  The  other  gentleman  would  have  done  badly  vv'ithout 
w<f,"  returned  the  man,  shaking  his  head.  "  You  should 
have  moved  him  first.     I  gave  him  up  for  dead." 

"  Presence  of  mind,  you  croaker,  presence  of  mind  !  " 
cried  Jonas,  v/ith  a  harsh  loud  laugh.  "  Was  he  struck,  do 
you  think  ? " 

They  both  turned  to  look  at  him.  Jonas  muttered  some- 
thing to  himself,  Avhen  he  saw  him  sitting  up  beneath  the 
hedge,  looking  vacantly  round, 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Montague.  "  Is  any  body 
hurt  ? " 

"  Ecod  !  "  said  Jonas,  "it  don't  seem  so.  There  are  no 
bones  broke,  after  all." 

They  raised  him,  and  he  tried  to  walk.  He  was  a  good 
deal  shaken,  and  trembled  very  much.  But  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  cuts  and  bruises  this  was  all  the  damage  he 
had  sustained. 

"Cuts  and  bruises,  eh  ? "  said  Jonas.  "We've  all  got 
them.     Only  cuts  and  bruises,  eh  ?'" 

"  I  wouldn't  have  given  sixpence  for  the  gentleman's  head 
in  half  a  dozen  seconds  more,   for  all  he's    only   cut  and 


646  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

bruised,"  observed  the  post-boy.  "  If  ever  you're  in  an 
accident  of  this  sort  again,  sir,  which  I  hope  you  won't  be, 
never  you  pull  at  the  bridle  of  a  horse  that's  down,  when 
there's  a  man's  head  in  the  way.  That  can't  be  done  twice 
without  there  being  a  dead  man  in  the  case  ;  it  would  have 
ended  in  that,  this  time,  as  sure  as  ever  you  were  born,  if  I 
hadn't  come  up  just  when  I  did." 

Jonas  replied  by  advising  him  with  a  curse  to  hold  his 
tongue,  and  to  go  somewhere,  whither  he  was  not  very 
likely  to  go  of  his  own  accord.  But  Montague,  who  had 
listened  eagerly  to  every  word,  himself  diverted  the  subject, 
by  exclaiming  :  "  Where's  the  boy  ? " 

"  Ecod,  I  forgot  that  monkey,"  said  Jonas.  "  What's 
become  of  him  ?  "  A  very  brief  search  settled  that  question. 
The  unfortunate  Mr.  Bailey  had  been  thrown  sheer  over 
the  hedge  of  the  five-barred  gate  ;  and  was  lying  in  the 
neighboring  field,  to  all  appearance  dead. 

"  When  I  said  to-night,  that  I  wished  I  had  never  started 
on  this  journey,"  cried  his  master,  *'  I  knew  it  was  an  ill-fated 
one.     Look  at  this  boy  !  " 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  growled  Jonas.  *'  If  you  call  f/iaf  a  sign 
of  it—" 

*'  Why,  what  should  I  call  a  sign  of  it  ?  "  asked  Montague, 
hurriedly.     *'  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

'*  I  mean,"  said  Jonas,  stooping  down  over  the  body, 
"  that  I  never  heard  you  were  his  father,  or  had  any  partic- 
ular reason  to  care  much  about  him.  Halloo.  Hold  up 
here  !  " 

But  the  boy  was  past  holding  up,  or  being  held  up,  or 
giving  any  other  sign  of  life,  than  a  faint  and  fitful  beating 
of  the  heart.  After  some  discussion,  the  driver  mounted  the 
horse  which  had  been  least  injured,  and  took  the  lad  in  his 
arms,  as  well  as  he  could  ;  while  Montague  and  Jonas,  lead- 
ing the  other  horse,  and  carrying  a  trunk  between  them, 
walked  by  his  side  toward  Salisbury. 

"  You'd  get  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and  be  able  to  send 
assistance  to  meet  us,  if  you  went  forward,  post-boy,"  said 
Jonas.     ^'Troton!" 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Montague  ;  **  we'll  keep  together," 

"  Why,  what  a  chicken  you  are  !  You  are  not  afraid  of 
being  robbed  ;  are  you  ?  "  said  Jonas. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  thing,"  replied  the  other,  whose 
looks  and  manner  were  in  flat  contradiction  to  his  words. 
"  But  we'll  keep  together." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  O47 

"  You  were  mighty  anxious  about  the  boy,  a  minute  ago," 
said  Jonas.  **  I  suppose  you  know  that  he  may  die  in  the 
meantime  ? " 

"  Ay,  ay.     I  know.     But  we'll  keep  together." 

As  it  was  clear  that  he  was  not  to  be  moved  from  this 
determination,  Jonas  made  no  other  rejoinder  than  such  as 
his  face  expressed  ;  and  they  proceeded  in  company.  They 
had  three  or  four  good  miles  to  travel  ;  and  the  way  was  not 
made  easier  by  the  state  of  the  road,  the  burden  by  which 
they  were  embarrassed,  or  their  own  stiff  and  sore  condition. 
After  a  sufficiently  long  and  painful  walk  they  arrived  at  the 
inn  ;  and  having  knocked  the  people  up  (it  being  yet  very 
early  in  the  morning),  sent  out  messengers  to  see  to  the  car- 
riage and  its  contents,  and  roused  a  surgeon  from  his  bed  to 
tend  the  chief  sufferer.  All  the  service  he  could  render,  he 
rendered  promptly  and  skillfully.  But  he  gave  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  boy  was  laboring  under  a  severe  concussion 
of  the  brain,  and  that  Mr.  Bailey's  mortal  course  was  run. 

If  Montague's  strong  interest  in  the  announcement  could 
have  been  considered  as  unselfish,  in  any  degree,  it  might 
have  been  a  redeeming  trait  in  a  character  that  had  no  such 
lineaments  to  spare.  But  it  was  not  difficult  to  see  that,  for 
some  unexpressed  reason  best  appreciated  by  himself,  he 
attached  a  strange  value  to  the  company  and  presence  of 
this  mere  child.  When,  after  receiving  some  assistance  from 
the  surgeon  himself,  he  retired  to  the  bed-room  prepared  for 
him,  and  it  was  broad  day,  his  mind  was  still  dwelling  on 
this  theme. 

"  I  would  rather  have  lost,"  he  said,  *'  a  thousand  pounds 
than  lost  the  boy  just  now.  But  I'll  return  home  alone.  I 
am  resolved  upon  that.  Chuzzlewit  shall  go  forward  first, 
and  I  will  follow  in  my  own  time.  I'll  have  no  more  of  this," 
he  added,  wiping  his  damp  forehead.  "  Twenty-four  hours 
of  this  would  turn  my  hair  gray  !  " 

After  examining  his  chamber,  and  looking  under  the  bed, 
and  in  the  cupboards,  and  even  behind  the  curtains,  with 
unusual  caution  (although  it  was,  as  has  been  said,  broad 
day),  he  double-locked  the  door  by  which  he  had  entered, 
and  retired  to  rest.  There  was  another  door  in  the  room, 
but  it  was  locked  on  the  outer  side  j  and  with  what  place  it 
communicated,  he  knew  not. 

His  fears  or  evil  conscience  reproduced  this  door  in  all  his 
dreams.  He  dreamed  that  a  dreadful  secret  was  connected 
with  it  :  a  secret  which  he  knew,  and  yet  did  not  know,  for 


648  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

although  he  was  heavily  responsible  for  it,  and  a  party  to  it, 
he  was  harassed  even  in  his  vision  by  a  distracting  uncer- 
tainty in  reference  to  its  import.  Incoherently  intwined 
with  this  dream  was  another,  which  represented  it  as  the 
hiding-place  of  an  enemy,  a  shadow,  a  phantom  ;  and  made 
it  the  business  of  his  life  to  keep  the  terrible  creature  closed 
up,  and  prevent  it  from  forcing  its  way  in  upon  him.  With 
this  view  Nadgett,  and  he,  and  a  strange  man  with  a  bloody 
smear  upon  his  head  (who  told  him  that  he  had  been  his 
playfellow,  and  told  him,  too,  the  real  name  of  an  old  school- 
mate, forgotten  until  then),  worked  with  iron  plates  and  nails 
to  make  the  door  secure  ;  but  though  they  worked  never  so 
hard,  it  was  all  in  vain,  for  the  nails  broke,  or  changed  to  soft 
twigs,  or  what  was  worse,  to  worms,  between  their  fingers  ; 
the  wood  of  the  door  splintered  and  crumbled,  so  that 
even  nails  would  not  remain  in  it  ;  and  the  iron  plates  curled 
up  like  hot  paper.  All  this  time  the  creature  on  the  other 
side — whether  it  was  in  the  shape  of  man,  or  beast,  he  neither 
knew  nor  sought  to  know — was  gaining  on  them.  But 
his  greatest  terror  was  when  the  man  with  the  bloody  smear 
upon  his  head  demanded  of  him  if  he  knew  this  creature's 
name,  and  said  that  he  would  whisper  it.  At  this  the  dreamer 
fell  upon  his  knees,  his  whole  blood  thrilling  with  inexplica- 
ble fear,  and  held  his  ears.  But  looking  at  the  speaker's 
lips,  he  saw  that  they  formed  the  utterance  of  the  letter  ''  J  ;  " 
and  crying  out  aloud  that  the  secret  was  discovered,  and 
they  were  all  lost,  he  awoke. 

Awoke  to  find  Jonas  standing  at  his  bedside  watching 
him.     And  that  very  door  wide  open. 

As  their  eyes  met,  Jonas  retreated  a  few  paces,  and  Mon- 
tague sprang  out  of  bed. 

^*  Heyday  !  "  said  Jonas.     "  You're  all  alive  this  morning." 

*'  Alive  !  "  the  other  stammered,  as  he  pulled  the  bell-rope 
violently  :  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  It's  your  room  to  be  sure,"  said  Jonas  ;  *'  but  I'm  almost 
inclined  to  ask  you  what  yoti  are  doing  here  ?  My  room  is 
on  the  other  side  of  that  door.  No  one  told  me  last  night 
not  to  open  it.  I  thought  it  led  into  a  passage,  and  was 
coming  out  to  order  breakfast.  There's — there's  no  bell  in 
my  room." 

Montague  had  in  the  meantime  admitted  the  man  with  hi? 
hot  water  and  boots,  who  hearing  this,  said,  yes,  there  was  ; 
and  passed  into  the  adjoining  room  to  point  it  out,  at  the 
head  of  the  bed. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  649 

"  I  couldn't  find  it,  then,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  it's  all  the  same. 
Shall  I  order  breakfast  ?  " 

Montague  answered  in  the  affirmative.  When  Jonas  had 
retired,  whistling,  through  his  own  room,  he  opened  the  door 
of  communication,  to  take  out  the  key  and  fasten  it  on  the 
inner  side.     But  it  was  taken  out  already. 

He  dragged  the  table  against  the  door,  and  sat  down  to 
collect  himself,  as  if  his  dreams  still  had  some  influence  upon 
his  mind. 

"An  evil  journey,"  he  repeated  several  times.  "An  evil 
journey.  But  I'll  travel  home  alone.  I'll  have  no  more  of 
this  !  " 

His  presentiment,  or  superstition,  that  it  was  an  evil  jour- 
ney, did  not  at  all  deter  him  from  doing  the  evil  for  which 
the  journey  was  undertaken.  With  this  in  view,  he  dressed 
himself  more  carefully  than  usual  to  make  a  favorable  im- 
pression on  Mr.  Pecksniff;  and,  reassured  by  his  own  appear- 
ance, the  beauty  of  the  morning,  and  the  flashing  of  the  wet 
boughs  outside  his  window  in  the  merry  sunshine,  was  soon 
sufficiently  inspirited  to  swear  a  few  round  oaths,  and  hum 
the  fag-end  of  a  song. 

But  he  still  muttered  to  himself  at  intervals,  for  all  that, 
*'  I'll  travel  home  alone  !  " 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 

HAS  AN  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  FORTUNES  OF  SEVERAL  PEOPLE. 
MR.  PECKSNIFF  IS  EXHIBITED  IN  THE  PLENITUDE  OF 
POWER,  AND  WIELDS  THE  SAME  WITH  FORTITUDE  AND 
MAGNANIMITY. 

On  the  night  of  the  storm,  Mrs.  Lupin,  hostess  of  the 
Blue  Dragon,  sat  by  herself  in  her  little  bar.  Her  solitary 
condition,  or  the  bad  weather,  or  both  united,  made  Mrs. 
Lupin  thoughtful,  not  to  say  sorrowful.  As  she  sat  with  her 
chin  upon  her  hand,  looking  out  through  a  low  back  lattice, 
rendered  dim  in  the  brightest  day-time  by  clustering  vine- 
leaves,  she  shook  her  head  very  often  and  said,  "  Dear  me  ! 
Ah,  dear,  dear,  me  !  " 

It  was  a  melancholy  time,  even  in  the  snugness  of  the 
Dragon  bar.  The  rich  expanse  of  corn-field,  pasture-land, 
green  slope,  and  gentle  undulation,  with  its  sparkling  brooks, 


0^50  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

its  many  hedgerows,  and  its  clumps  of  beautiful  trees,  was 
black  and  dreary,  from  the  diamond  panes  of  the  lattice 
away  to  the  far  horizon,  where  the  thunder  seemed  to  roll 
along  the  hills.  The  heavy  rain  beat  down  the  tender 
branches  of  vine  and  jessamine,  and  trampled  on  them  in  its 
fury  ;  and  when  the  lightning  gleamed,  it  showed  the  tear- 
ful leaves  shivering  and  cowering  together  at  the  window, 
and  tapping  at  it  urgently,  as  if  beseeching  to  be  sheltered 
from  the  dismal  night. 

As  a  mark  of  her  respect  for  the  lightning,  Mrs.  Lupin  had 
removed  her  candle  to  the  chimney-piece.  Her  basket  of 
needle-work  stood  unheeded  at  her  elbow;  her  supper  spread 
on  a  round  table  not  far  off,  was  untasted  ;  and  the  knives 
had  been  removed  for  fear  of  attraction.  She  had  sat  for  a 
long  time  with  her  chin  upon  her  hand,  saying  to  herself  at 
intervals,  "  Dear  me  !     Ah,  dear,  dear  me  !  " 

She  was  on  the  eve  of  saying  so,  once  more,  when  the 
latch  of  the  house-door  (closed  to  keep  the  rain  out)  rattled 
on  its  well-worn  catch,  and  a  traveler  came  in,  who,  shutting 
it  after  him,  and  walking  straight  up  to  the  half  door  of  the 
bar,  said  rather  gruffly  : 

"A  pint  of  the  best  old  beer  here." 

He  had  some  reason  to  be  gruff,  for  if  he  had  passed  the 
day  in  a  waterfall,  he  could  scarcely  have  been  wetter  than 
he  was.  He  was  wrapped  up  to  the  eyes  in  a  rough  blue 
sailor's  coat,  and  had  an  oil-skin  hat  on,  from  the  capacious 
brim  of  which,  the  rain  fell  trickling  down  upon  his  breast, 
and  back,  and  shoulders.  Judging  from  a  certain  liveliness 
of  chin — he  had  so  pulled  down  his  hat,  and  pulled  up  his 
collar  to  defend  himself  from  the  weather,  that  she  could 
only  see  his  chin,  and  even  across  that  he  drew  the  wet  sleeve 
of  his  shaggy  coat,  as  she  looked  at  him — Mrs.  Lupin  set 
him  down  for  a  good-natured  fellow,  too. 

"  A  bad  night  !  "  observed  the  hostess,  cheerfully. 

The  traveler  shook  himself  like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  and 
said  it  was,  rather. 

^'  There's  a  fire  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  '*  and 
very  good  company  there.  Hadn't  you  better  go  and  dry 
yourself  ?  " 

"  No,  thankee,"  said  the  man,  glancing  toward  the  kitchen 
as  he  spoke  ;  he  seemed  to  know  the  way. 

"  It's  enough  to  give  you  your  death  of  cold,"  observed 
the  hostess. 

**  I  don't  take  my  death,  easy,"  returned  the  traveler  ;  "or 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  651 

I  should  most    likely    have    took  it  afore  to-night.     Your 
health,  ma'am  !  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  thanked  him  ;  but  in  the  act  of  lifting  the 
tankard  to  his  mouth,  he  changed  his  mind,  and  put  it  down 
again.  Throwing  his  body  back,  and  looking  about  him 
stiffly,  as  a  man  does  who  is  wrapped  up,  and  has  his  hat 
low  down  over  his  eyes,  he  said, 

"  What  do  you  call  this  house  ?  Not  the  Dragon,  do  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  complacently  made  answer,  "  Yes,  the  Dragon." 

"  Why,  then,  you've  got  a  sort  of  relation  of  mine  here, 
ma'am,"  said  the  traveler  ;  "  a  young  man  of  the  name  of 
Tapley.  What  !  Mark,  my  boy  !  "  apostrophizing  the  prem- 
ises, ''  have  I  come  upon  you  at  last,  old  buck  !  " 

This  was  touching  Mrs.  Lupin  on  a  tender  point.  She 
turned  to  trim  the  candle  on  the  chimney-piece,  and  said, 
with  her  back  toward  the  traveler  : 

**  Nobody  should  be  made  more  welcome  at  the  Dragon, 
master,  than  any  one  who  brought  me  news  of  Mark.  But 
it's  many  and  many  a  long  day  and  month  since  he  left  here 
and  England.  And  whether  he's  alive  or  dead,  poor  fellow. 
Heaven  above  us  only  knows  !  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  her  voice  trembled  ;  her  hand 
must  have  done  so  too,  for  the  light  required  a  deal  of 
trimming. 

"  Where  did  he  go,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  the  traveler,  in  a 
gentler  voice. 

"  He  went,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  with  increased  distress,  '*  to 
America.  He  was  always  tender-hearted  and  kind,  and  per- 
haps at  this  moment  may  be  lying  in  prison  under  sentence 
of  death,  for  taking  pity  on  some  miserable  black,  and  help- 
ing the  poor  runa.way  creetur  to  escape.  How  could  he  ever 
go  to  America  !  Why  didn't  he  go  to  some  of  those  coun- 
tries where  the  savages  eat  each  other  fairly  and  give  an 
equal  chance  to  every  one  ! " 

Quite  subdued  by  this  time,  Mrs.  Lupin  sobbed,  and  was 
retiring  to  a  chair  to  give  her  grief  free  vent,  when  the  trav- 
eler caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  uttered  a  glad  cry  of 
recognition. 

"  Yes,  I  will !  "  cried  Mark,  ''  another — one  more — twenty 
more  !  You  didn't  know  me  in  that  hat  and  coat  ?  I  thought 
you  would  have  known  me  anywhere  !    Ten  more  !  " 

"  So  I  should  have  known  you,  if  I  could  have  seen  you  ; 
but  I  couldn't,  and  you  spoke  so  gruff.  I  didn't  think  you 
could  speak  gruff  to  me,  Mark,  at  first  coming  back." 


652  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

•*  Fifteen  more  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  How  handsome 
and  how  young  you  look  !  Six  more  !  The  last  half-dozen 
warn't  a  fair  one,  and  must  be  done  over  again.  Lord  bless 
you,  what  a  treat  it  is  to  see  you  !  One  more  !  Well,  I  never 
was  so  jolly.  Just  a  few  more,  on  account  of  there  not  being 
any  credit  in  it  !  " 

When  Mr.  Tapley  stopped  in  these  calculations  in  simple 
addition,  he  did  it,  not  because  he  was  at  all  tired  of  the 
exercise,  but  because  he  was  out  ot  breath.  The  pause 
reminded  him  of  other  duties. 

"  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit's  outside,"  he  said.  '*  I  left  him 
under  the  cart-shed,  while  I  came  on  to  see  if  there  was  any 
body  here.  We  want  to  keep  quiet  to-night,  till  we  know 
the  news  from  you,  and  what  it's  best  for  us  to  do." 

"  There's  not  a  soul  in  the  house,  except  the  kitchen  com- 
pany," returned  the  hostess.  *'  If  they  were  to  know  you 
had  come  back,  Mark,  they'd  have  a  bonfire  in  the  street, 
late  as  it  is." 

"  But  they  mustn't  know  it  to-night,  my  precious  soul," 
said  Mark  ;  **  so  have  the  house  shut,  and  the  kitchen  fire 
made  up  ;  and  when  it's  all  ready,  put  a  light  in  the  winder, 
and  we'll  come  in.  One  more  !  I  long  to  hear  about  old 
friends.  You'll  tell  me  all  about  'em,  won't  you  :  Mr. 
Pinch,  and  the  butcher's  dog  down  the  street,  and  the  terrier 
over  the  way,  and  the  wheel-wright's,  and  every  one  of  'em. 
When  I  first  caught  sight  of  the  church  to-night,  I  thought 
the  steeple  would  have  choked  me,  I  did.  One  more  ! 
Won't  you  ?  Not  a  very  little  one  to  finish  off  with  ? " 

"  You  have  had  plenty,  I  am  sure,"  said  the  hostess. 
"  Go  along  with  your  foreign  manners  !  " 

"  That  ain't  foreign,  bless  you  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  Native 
as  oysters,  that  is  !  One  more,  because  it's  native  !  As  a 
mark  of  respect  for  the  land  we  live  in  !  This  don't  count 
as  between  you  and  me,  you  understand,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 
"  I  ain't  a  kissing  you  now,  you'll  observe.  I  have  been 
among  the  patriots  :  I'm  a  kissin'  my  country." 

It  would  have  been  very  unreasonable  to  complain  of  the 
exhibition  of  his  patriotism  with  which  he  followed  up  this 
explanation,  that  it  was  at  all  lukewarm  or  indifferent.  When 
he  had  given  full  expression  to  his  nationality,  he  hurried  off 
to  Martin  ;  while  Mrs.  Lupin,  in  a  state  of  great  agitation 
and  excitement,  prepared  for  their  reception. 

The  company  soon  came  tumbling  out,  insisting  to  each 
Other  that  the  Dragon  clock  was  half  an  hour  too  fast,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  653 

that  the  thunder  must  have  affected  it.  Impatient,  wet,  and 
weary,  though  they  were,  Martin  and  Mark  were  overjoyed 
to  see  these  old  faces,  and  watched  them  with  delighted 
interest  as  they  departed  from  the  house,  and  passed  close 
by  them. 

"  There's  the  old  tailor,  Mark  !  "  whispered  Martin. 

^'  There  he  goes,  sir  !  A  little  handier  than  he  was,  I 
think,  sir,  ain't  he  ?  His  figure's  so  far  altered,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  that  you  might  wheel  a  rather  larger  barrow  between 
his  legs  as  he  walks,  than  you  could  have  done,  conveniently, 
when  we  know'd  him.     There's  Sam  a  coming  out,  sir." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure  !  "  cried  Martin,  '*  Sam,  the  hostler.  I 
wonder  whether  the  horse   of  Pecksniff's  is  alive  still  ?  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  on  it,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  That's  a 
description  of  animal,  sir,  as  will  go  on  in  a  bony  way  pecu- 
liar to  himself  for  a  long  time,  and  get  into  the  newspapers 
at  last  under  the  title  of  '  Sing'lar  Tenacity  of  Life  in  a 
Quadruped.'  As  if  he  had  ever  been  alive  in  all  his  life, 
worth  mentioning  !  There's  the  clerk,  sir, — wery  drunk,  as 
usual." 

*'  I  see  him  !  "  said  Martin,  laughing.  '*  But,  my  life, 
how  wet  you  are,  Mark  !  " 

"  /  am  !     What  do  you  consider  yourself,  sir  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  half  as  bad,"  said  his  fellow-traveler,  with  an 
air  of  great  vexation.  ''  I  told  you  not  to  keep  on  the 
windy  side,  Mark,  but  to  let  us  change  and  change  about. 
The  rain  has  been  beating  on  you  ever  since  it  began." 

"  You  don't  know  how  it  pleases  me,  sir,"  said  Mark, 
after  a  short  silence  :  "  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  say  so,  to 
hear  you  agoing  on  in  that  there  uncommon  considerate 
way  of  yours  ;  which  I  don't  mean  to  attend  to,  never,  but 
which,  ever  since  that  time  when  I  was  floored  in  Eden,  you 
have  showed." 

''  Ah,  Mark !  "  sighed  Martin,  "  the  less  we  say  of  that 
the  better.     Do  I  see  the  light  yonder  ? " 

"  That's  the  light  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  Lord  bless  her,  what 
briskness  she  possesses  !  Now  for  it,  sir.  Neat  wines, 
good  beds,  and  first-rate  entertainment  for  man  or  beast." 

The  kitchen  fire  burned  clear  and  red,  the  table  was  spread 
out,  the  kettle  boiled  ;  the  slippers  were  there,  the  boot- 
jack too,  sheets  of  ham  were  there,  cooking  on  the  gridiron: 
half-a-dozen  eggs  were  there,  poaching  in  the  frying-pan; 
a  plethoric  cherry-brandy  bottle  was  there,  winking  at  a 
foaming  jug  of  beer  upon  the  table  ;  rare  provisions  were 


654  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

there,  dangling  from  the  rafters  as  if  you  had  only  to  open 
your  mouth,  and  something  exquisitely  ripe  and  good 
would  be  but  too  glad  of  the  excuse  for  tumbling  into  it.  Mrs. 
Lupin,  who  for  their  sakes  had  dislodged  the  very  cook, 
high  priestess  of  the  temple,  with  her  own  genial  hands  was 
dressing  their  repast. 

It  was  impossible  to  help  it — a  ghost  must  have  hugged 
her.  The  Atlantic  Ocean  and  the  Red  Sea  being,  in  that 
respect,  all  one,  Martin  hugged  her  instantly.  Mr.  Tapley 
(as  if  the  idea  were  quite  novel,  and  had  never  occurred  to 
him  before),  followed,  with  much  gravity,  on  the  same  side. 

"  Little  did  I  ever  ihink,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  adjusting  her 
cap  and  laughing  heartily  ;  yes,  and  blushing,  too  ;  "  often 
as  I  have  said  that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  young  gentlemen  were 
the  life  and  soul  of  the  Dragon,  and  that,  without  them  it 
would  be  too  dull  to  live  in — little  did  I  ever  think,  I  am 
sure,  that  any  one  of  them  would  ever  make  so  free  as  you, 
Mr.  Martin  !  And  still  less  that  I  shouldn't  be  angry  with 
him,  but  should  be  glad  with  all  my  heart,  to  be  the  first 
to  welcome  him  home  from  America,  with  Mark  Tapley,  for 
his—" 

"  For  his  friend,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  interposed  Martin. 

"  For  his  friend,"  said  the  hostess,  evidently  gratified  by 
this  distinction,  but  at  the  same  time  admonishing  Mr. 
Tapley  with  a  fork  to  remain  at  a  respectful  distance. 
"  Little  did  I  ever  think  that  !  but  still  less,  that  I  should 
ever  have  the  changes  to  relate  that  I  shall  have  to  tell  you 
of,  when  you  have  done  your  supper  !  " 

"  Good  Heaven  !  "  cried  Martin,  changing  color.  "  What 
changes  ? " 

*'  S/ie,"  said  the  hostess,  "  is  quite  well,  and  now  at  Mr. 
Pecksniff's.  Don't  be  at  all  alarmed  about  her.  She  is 
every  thing  you  could  wish.  It's  of  no  use  mincing 
matters,  or  making  secrets,  is  it  ?  "  added  Mrs.  Lupin.  "I 
know  all  about  it,  you  see  !  " 

"  My  good  creature,"  returned  Martin,  "  you  are  exactly 
the  person  who  ought  to  know  all  about  it.  I  am  delighted 
to  think  you  (/o  know  all  about  it.  But  what  changes  do 
you  hint  at  ?     Has  any  death  occurred  ? " 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  the  hostess.  '*  Not  so  bad  as  that.  But 
I  declare  now  that  I  will  not  be  drawn  into  saying  another 
word  till  you  have  had  your  supper.  If  you  ask  me  fifty 
questions  in  the  meantime,  I  won't  answer  one." 

She  was  so  positive,   that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  655 

get  the  supper  over  as  quickly  as  possible  ;  and  as  they  had 
been  walking  a  great  many  miles,  and  had  fasted  since  the 
middle  of  the  day,  they  did  no  great  violence  to  their  own 
inclinations  in  falling  on  it  tooth  and  nail.  It  took  rather 
longer  to  get  through  than  might  have  been  expected  ;  for, 
half-a-dozen  times,  when  they  thought  they  had  finished, 
Mrs.  Lupin  exposed  the  fallacy  of  that  impression  triumph- 
antly. But  at  last,  in  the  course  of  time  and  nature,  they 
gave  in.  Then,  sitting  with  their  slippered  feet  stretched  out 
upon  the  kitchen  hearth  (which  was  wonderfully  comforting, 
for  the  night  had  grown  by  this  time  raw  and  chilly),  and 
looking  with  involuntary  admiration  at  their  dimpled,  buxom, 
blooming  hostess,  as  the  firelight  sparkled  in  her  eyes  and 
glimmered  in  her  raven  hair,  they  composed  themselves  to 
listen  to  her  news. 

Many  were  the  exclamations  of  surprise  which  interrupted 
her,  when  she  told  them  of  the  separation  between  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff and  his  daughters,  and  between  the  same  good  gentle- 
man and  Mr.  Pinch.  But  these  were  nothing  to  the  indignant 
demonstrations  of  Martin,  when  she  related,  as  the  common 
talk  of  the  neighborhood,  what  entire  possession  he  had  ob- 
tained over  the  mind  and  person  of  old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  and 
what  high  honor  he  designed  for  Mary.  On  receipt  of  this 
intelligence,  Martin's  slippers  flew  off  in  a  twinkling,  and  he 
began  pulling  on  his  wet  boots  with  that  indefinite  intention 
of  going  somewhere  instantly,  and  doing  something  to  some- 
body, which  is  the  first  safety-valve  of  a  hot  temper. 

^'  He  !  "  said  Martin,  "  smooth-tongued  villain  that  he  is  ! 
He  !     Give  me  that  other  boot,  Mark  !  " 

"Where  was  you  a  thinking  of  going  to,  sir  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Tapley,  drying  the  sole  at  the  fire,  and  looking  coolly  at 
it  as  he  spoke,  as  if  it  were  a  slice  of  toast. 

"  Where  !"  repeated  Martin.  "You  don't  suppose  I  am 
going  to  remain  here,  do  you  ? " 

The  imperturbable  Mark  confessed  that  he  did. 

"You  do  !  "  retorted  Martin  angrily.  "I  am.  obliged  to 
you.     What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  " 

"  I  take  you  for  what  you  are,  sir,"  said  Mark;  "  and,  con- 
sequently, am  quite  sure  that  whatever  you  do,  will  be  right 
and  sensible.     The  boot,  sir." 

Martin  darted  an  impatient  look  at  him,  without  taking  it, 
and  walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  kitchen  several  times, 
with  one  boot  and  a  stocking  on.  But,  mindful  of  his  Eden 
resolution,  he  had  already  gained  many  victories  over  himself 


656  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

when  Mark  was  in  the  case,  and  he  resolved  to  conquer  now. 
So  he  came  back  to  the  boot-jack,  laid  his  hand  on  Mark's 
shoulder  to  steady  himself,  pulled  the  boot  off,  picked  up  his 
slippers,  put  them  on,  and  sat  down  again.  He  could  not 
help  thrusting  his  hands  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  pockets, 
and  muttering  at  intervals,  "  Pecksniff  too  !  That  fellow  ! 
Upon  my  soul  !  In-deed  !  What  next  ? "  and  so  forth:  nor 
could  he  help  occasionally  shaking  his  fist  at  the  chimney, 
with  a  very  threatening  countenance  ;  but  this  did  not  last 
long;  and  he  heard  Mrs.  Lupin  out,  if  not  with  composure, 
at  all  events  in  silence. 

^'  As  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  himself,"  observed  the  hostess  in 
conclusion,  spreading  out  the  skirts  of  her  gown  with  both 
hands,  and  nodding  her  head  a  great  many  times  as  she  did 
so,  "  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  Somebody  must  have 
poisoned  his  mind,  or  influenced  him  in  some  extraordinary 
way.  I  can  not  believe  that  such  a  noble-spoken  gentleman 
would  go  and  do  wrong  of  his  own  accord  ! " 

A  noble-spoken  gentleman  !  How  many  people  are  there 
in  the  world,  who,  for  no  better  reason,  uphold  their  Peck- 
sniffs to  the  last,  and  abandon  virtuous  men,  when  Pecksniffs 
breathe  upon  them  ! 

*'  As  to  Mr.  Pinch,"  pursued  the  landlady,  ''  if  ever  there 
w^as  a  dear,  good,  pleasant,  worthy  soul  alive,  Pinch,  and  no 
other,  is  his  name.  But  how  do  we  know  that  old  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit  himself  was  not  the  cause  of  difference  arising  between 
him  and  Mr.  Pecksniif  ?  No  one  but  themselves  can  tell  ;  for 
Mr.  Pinch  has  a  proud  spirit,  though  he  has  such  a  quiet  way; 
and  when  he  left  us,  and  was  so  sorry  to  go,  he  scorned  to 
make  his  story  good,  even  to  me." 

"  Poor  old  Tom  !  "  said  Martin,  in  a  tone  that  sounded 
like  remorse. 

^*  It's  a  comfort  to  know,"  resumed  the  landlady,  "  that  he 
has  his  sister  living  with  him,  and  is  doing  well.  Only  yes- 
terday he  sent  me  back,  by  post,  a  little  " —  here  the  color 
came  into  her  cheeks — "  a  little  trifle  I  was  bold  enough  to 
lend  him  when  he  went  away,  saying,  with  many  thanks,  that 
he  had  good  employment,  and  didn't  want  it.  It  was  the 
same  note;  he  hadn't  broken  it.  I  never  thought  I  could 
have  been  so  little  pleased  to  see  a  bank-note  come  back  to 
me,  as  I  was  to  see  that." 

"  Kindly  said,  and  heartily  !  "  said  Martin.  "  Is  it  not, 
Mark  ?  " 

*'  She  gan't  say  any  thing  as  does  not  possess  them  quali- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  657 

ties,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley  ;  ^'  which  as  much  belong  to  the 
Dragon  as  its  license.  And  now  that  we  have  got  c[uite  cool 
and  fresh  to  the  subject  again,  sir,  what  will  you  do  ?  If 
you're  not  proud,  and  can  make  up  your  mind  to  go  through 
with  what  you  spoke  of,  coming  along,  that's  the  course  for 
you  to  take.  If  you  started  wrong  with  your  grandfather 
(which,  you'll  excuse  my  taking  the  liberty  of  saying,  appears 
to  have  been  the  case),  up  with  you,  sir,  and  tell  him  so,  and 
make  an  appeal  to  his  affections.  Don't  stand  out.  He's  a 
great  deal  older  than  you,  and  if  he  was  hasty,  you  was  hasty 
too.     Give  way,  sir,  give  way." 

The  eloquence  of  Mr.  Tapley  was  not  without  its  effect  on 
Martin,  but  he  still  hesitated,  and  expressed  his  reason  thus  : 

"  That's  all  very  true,  and  perfectly  correct,  Mark  ;  and 
if  it  were  a  mere  question  of  humbling  myself  before  /ii'm,  I 
would  not  consider  it  twice.  But  don't  you  see,  that  being 
wholly  under  this  hypocrite's  government,  and  having  (if 
what  we  hear  be  true)  no  mind  or  will  of  his  own,  I  throw 
myself,  in  fact,  not  at  his  feet,  but  at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff ?  And  when  I  am  rejected  and  spurned  avv^ay,"  said 
Martin,  turning  crimson  at  the  thought,  ''  it  is  not  by  him — ' 
my  own  blood  stirred  against  me — but  by  Pecksniff — Peck- 
sniff, Mark  !  " 

"  Well,  but  we  know  beforehand,"  returned  the  politic  Mr. 
Tapley,  "  that  Pecksniff  is  a  wagabond,  a  scoundrel,  and  a 
willain." 

"  A  most  pernicious  villain  I  "  said  Martin. 

"  A  most  pernicious  willain.  We  know  that  beforehand, 
sir  ;  and,  consequently,  it's  no  shame  to  be  defeated  by 
Pecksniff.  Blow  Pecksniff  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  the  fer- 
vor of  his  eloquence.  "  Who's  he  !  It's  not  in  the  nature  of 
Pecksniff  to  shame  uSy  unless  he  agreed  with  us,  or  done  us 
a  service  ;  and,  in  case  he  offered  any  outdacity  of  that 
description,  we  could  express  our  sentiments  in  the  English 
language,  I  hope  ?  Pecksniff  I  "  repeated  ]\Ir.  Tapley,  with 
ineffable  disdain.  *'  What's  Pecksniff,  who's  Pecksniff, 
where's  Pecksniff,  that  he's  to  be  so  much  considered  ?  We're 
not  a  calculating  for  ourselves  ;  "  he  laid  uncommon  empha- 
sis on  the  last  syllable  of  that  word,  and  looked  full  in  Mar- 
tin's face  ;  *'  we're  making  a  effort  for  a  young  lady  likewise 
as  has  undergone  her  share  ;  and  whatever  little  hope  we 
have,  this  here  Pecksniff  is  not  to  stand  in  its  way,  I  expect. 
I  never  heard  of  any  act  of  Parliament  as  was  made  by  Peck- 
sniff.    Pecksniff  !  Why,  I  wouldn't  see   the  man  myself  ;  I 


658  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

wouldn't  hear  him  ;  I  wouldn't  choose  to  know  he  was  in 
company.  I'd  scrape  my  shoes  on  the  scraper  of  the  door, 
and  call  that  Pecksniff,  if  you  liked  ;  but  I  wouldn't  conde- 
scend no  further." 

The  amazement  of  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  indeed  of  Mr.  Tapley 
himself  for  that  matter,  at  this  impassioned  flow  of  language, 
was  immense.  But  Martin,  after  looking  thoughtfully  at  the 
fire  for  a  short  time,  said  : 

*'  You  are  right,  Mark.  Right  or  wrong,  it  shall  be  done. 
I'll  do  it." 

''One  word  more,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  Only  think  of 
him  so  far,  as  not  to  give  him  a  handle  against  you.  Don't 
you  do  any  thing  secret,  that  he  can  report  before  you  get 
there.  Don't  you  even  see  Miss  Mary  in  the  morning,  but 
let  this  here  dear  friend  of  ours  ;  "  Mr.  Tapley  bestowed  a 
smile  upon  the  hostess  ;  ''  prepare  her  for  what's  a  going  to 
happen,  and  carry  any  little  message  as  may  be  agreeably. 
She  knows  how.  Don't  you  ? "  Mrs,  Lupin  laughed  and 
tossed  her  head.  ''  Then  you  go  in,  bold  and  free  as  a  gen- 
tleman should.  '  I  haven't  done  nothing  underhanded,'  says 
you.  *  I  haven't  been  a  skulking  about  the  premises,  here  I 
am,  for-give  me,  I  ask  your  pardon,  God  bless  you  ! '  " 

Martin  smiled,  but  felt  that  it  was  good  advice  notwith- 
standing, and  resolved  to  act  upon  it.  When  they  had  ascer- 
tained from  Mrs.  Lupin  that  Pecksniff  had  already  returned 
from  the  great  ceremonial  at  which  they  had  beheld  him  in 
his  glory,  and  when  they  had  fully  arranged  the  order  of 
their  proceedings,  they  went  to  bed,  intent  upon  the  morrow. 

In  pursuance  of  their  project  as  agreed  upon  at  this  dis- 
cussion, Mr.  Tapley  issued  forth  nexJt  morning,  after  break- 
fast, charged  with  a  letter  from  Martin  to  his  grandfather, 
requesting  leave  to  wait  upon  liim  for  a  few  minutes.  And 
postponing  as  he  went  along  the  congratulations  of  his  nu- 
merous friends  until  a  more  convenient  season, he  soon  arrived 
at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house.  At  that  gentleman's  door,  with  a 
face  so  immovable  that  it  would  have  been  next  to  an  impos- 
sibility for  the  most  acute  physiognomist  to  determine  what 
he  was  thinking  about,  or  whether  he  was  thinking  at  all,  he 
straightway  knocked. 

A  person  of  Mr.  Tapley's  observation  could  not  long  re- 
main insensible  to  the  fact,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  making  the 
end  of  his  nose  very  blunt  against  the  glass  of  the  parlor 
window,  in  an  angular  attempt  to  discover  who  had  knocked 
at  the  door.     Nor  was  Mr.  Tapley  slow  to  baffle  this  move- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  659 

ment  on  the  part  of  the  enemy,  by  perching  himself  on  the 
top  step,  and  presenting  the  crown  of  his  hat  in  that  direc- 
tion. But  possibly  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  already  seen  him,  for 
Mark  soon  heard  his  shoes  creaking,  as  he  advanced  to  open 
the  door  with  his  own  hands. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  as  cheerful  as  ever,  and  sang  a  little 
song  in  the  passage. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  sir  ?"  said  Mark. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ''  Tapley,  I  believe  ?  The 
prodigal  returned  !     We  don't  want  any  beer,  my  friend." 

"  Thankee,  sir,"  said  Mark.  ''  I  couldn't  accommodate 
you,  if  you  did.     A  letter,  sir.     Wait  for  an  answer." 

"  For  me  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  And  an  answer,  eh  ?  " 

*'Not  for  you  I  think,  sir,"  said  Mark,  pointing  out  the 
direction.     "  Chuzzlewit,  I  believe  the  name  is,  sir." 

''  Oh  1  "  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff.  ''  Thank  you.  Yes. 
Who's  it  from,  my  good  young  man  ?  " 

"  The  gentleman  it  comes  from,  wrote  his  name  inside, 
sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley  with  extreme  politeness.  *'  I  see 
him  a  signing  of  it  at  the  end,  while  I  was  a  v\'aitin'." 

"  And  he  said  he  wanted  an  answer,  did  he  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Pecksniff  in  his  most  persuasive  manner. 

Mark  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  He  shall  have  an  answer.  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, tearing  the  letter  into  small  pieces,  as  mildly  as  if  that 
were  the  most  flattering  attention  a  correspondent  could 
receive.  "  Have  the  goodness  to  give  him  that,  with  my 
compliments,  if  you  please.  Good-morning  I  "  Whereupon, 
he  handed  Mark  the  scraps;  retired;  and  shut  the  door. 

Mark  thought  it  prudent  to  subdue  his  personal  emotions, 
and  return  to  Martin,  at  the  Dragon.  They  were  not  unpre- 
pared for  such  a  reception,  and  suffered  an  hour  or  so  to 
elapse  before  making  another  attempt.  When  this  interval 
had  gone  by,  they  returned  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  in  com- 
pany. Martin  knocked  this  time,  while  Mr.  Tapley  prepared 
himself  to  keep  the  door  open  with  his  foot  and  shoulder, 
when  any  body  came,  and  by  that  means  secure  an  enforced 
parley.  But  this  precaution  was  needless,  for  the  servant  girl 
appeared  almost  immediately.  Brushing  quickly  past  her,  as 
he  had  resolved  in  such  a  case  to  do,  Martin  (closely  followed 
by  his  faithful  ally)  opened  the  door  of  that  parlor  in  which 
he  knew  a  visitor  was  most  likely  to  be  found,  passed  at 
once  into  the  room,  and  stood,  v/ithout  a  word  of  notice  or 
announcement,  in  the  presence  of  his  grandfather. 


66o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  also  was  in  the  room,  and  Mary.  In  the 
swift  instant  of  their  mutual  recognition,  Martin  saw  the 
old  man  droop  his  gray  head,  and  hide  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

It  smote  him  to  the  heart.  In  his  most  selfish  and  most 
careless  day,  this  lingering  remnant  of  the  old  man's  ancient 
love,  this  buttress  of  a  ruined  tower  he  had  built  up  in  the 
time  gone  by,  with  so  much  pride  and  hope,  would  have 
caused  a  pang  in  Martin's  heart.  But  now,  changed  for  the 
better  in  his  worst  respect;  looking  through  an  altered 
medium  on  his  former  friend,  the  guardian  of  his  childhood, 
so  broken  and  bowed  down;  resentment,  sullenness,  self- 
confidence,  and  pride,  were  all  swept  away,  before  the  start- 
ing tears  upon  the  withered  cheeks.  He  could  not  bear  to 
see  them.  He  could  not  bear  to  think  they  fell  at  sight  of 
him.  He  could  not  bear  to  view  reflected  in  them,  the 
reproachful  and  irrevocable  past. 

He  hurriedly  advanced  to  seize  the  old  man's  hand  in  his, 
when  Mr.  Pecksniff  interposed  himself  between  them. 

"  No,  young  man  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  striking  himself 
upon  the  breast,  and  stretching  out  his  other  arm  toward  his 
guest  as  if  it  were  a  wing  to  shelter  him.  *'  No,  sir.  None  of 
that.  Strike  here,  sir,  here  !  Launch  your  arrows  at  me, 
sir,  if  you'll  have  the  goodness  ;  not  at  him  !  " 

"  Grandfather  !  "  cried  Martin.  *'  Hear  me  !  I  implore 
you,  let  me  speak  !  " 

'^  Would  you,  sir  !  Would  you  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
dodging  about,  so  as  to  keep  himself  always  between  them. 
"  Is  it  not  enough,  sir,  that  you  come  into  my  house  like  a 
thief  in  the  night,  or  I  should  rather  say,  for  we  can  never 
be  too  particular  on  the  subject  of  truth,  like  a  thief  in  the 
day-time;  bringing  your  dissolute  companions  with  you,  to 
plant  themselves  with  their  backs  against  the  insides  of  parlor 
doors,  and  prevent  the  entrance  or  issuing  forth  of  any  of 
my  household  ;  "  Mark  had  taken  up  this  position,  and  held 
it  quite  unmoved;  *' but  would  you  also  strike  at  venerable 
virtue?  Would  you  ?  Know  that  it  is  not  defenseless.  I 
will  be  its  shield,  young  man.  Assail  me.  Come  on,  sir. 
Fire  away  !  " 

^'  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  feeble  voice.  "  Calm 
yourself.     Be  quiet." 

"  I  can't  be  calm,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  *'  and  I  w^n't  be 
quiet.  My  benefactor  and  my  friend  !  Shall  even  my  house 
be  no  refuge  for  your  hoary  pillow  ?  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  66i 

"  Stand  aside  !  "  said  the  old  man,  stretching  out  his  hand; 
''  and  let  me  see  what  it  is  I  used  to  love  so  dearly." 

''  It  is  right  that  you  should  see  it,  my  friend,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  '*  It  is  well  that  you  should  see  it,  my  noble  sir. 
It  is  desirable  that  you  should  contemplate  it  in  its  true  pro- 
portions.    Behold  it !     There  it  is,  sir.     There  it  is  !  " 

Martin  could  hardly  be  a  mcrtal  man,  and  not  express  in 
his  face  something  of  the  anger  and  disdain,  with  which  Mr. 
Pecksniff  inspired  him.  But  beyond  this  he  evinced  no 
knowledge  whatever  of  that  gentleman's  presence  or  exis- 
tence. True,  he  had  once,  and  that  at  first,  glanced  at  him 
involuntarily,  and  with  supreme  contempt;  but  for  any  other 
heed  he  took  of  him,  there  might  have  been  nothing  in  his 
place  save  empty  air. 

As  Mr.  Pecksniff  withdrew  from  between  them,  agreeably 
to  the  wish  just  now  expressed  (which  he  did  during  the 
delivery  of  the  observations  last  recorded),  old  Martin,  who 
had  taken  Mary  Graham's  hand  in  his,  and  whispered  kindly 
to  her,  as  telling  her  she  had  no  cause  to  be  alarmed,  gently 
pushed  her  from  him,  behind  his  chair;  and  looked  steadily 
at  his  grandson. 

**  And  that,"  he  said,  "  is  he.  Ah  !  that  is  he  !  Say  what 
you  wish  to  say.     But  come  no  nearer." 

"  His  sense  of  justice  is  so  fine,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that 
he  will  hear  even  him,  although  he  knows  beforehand  that 
nothing  can  come  of  it.  Ingenuous  mind  !  "  Mr.  Pecksniff 
did  not  address  himself  immediately  to  any  person  in  saying 
this,  but  assuming  the  position  of  the  chorus  in  a  Greek 
tragedy,  delivered  his  opinion  as  a  commentary  on  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

"  Grandfather !  "  said  Martin,  with  great  earnestness. 
"  From  a  painful  journey,  from  a  hard  life,  from  a  sick-bed, 
from  privation  and  distress,  from  gloom  and  disappointment, 
from  almost  hopelessness  and  despair,  I  have  come  back  to 
you." 

"  Rovers  of  this  sort,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  chorus, 
"very  commonly  come  back  when  they  find  they  don't  meet 
with  the  success  they  expected  in  their  marauding  ravages." 

"  But  for  this  faithful  man,"  said  Martin,  turning  toward 
Mark,  *'  whom  I  first  knew  in  this  place,  and  who  went  away 
with  me  voluntarily,  as  a  servant,  but  has  been,  throughout, 
my  zealous  and  devoted  friend;  but  for  him,  I  must  have  died 
abroad.  Far  from  home,  far  from  any  help  or  consolation  ; 
far  from  the  probability  even  of  my  wretched  fate  being  ever 


662  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

known  to  any  one  who  cared  to  hear  it — oh  that  you  would 
let  me  say,  of  being  known  to  you." 

The  old  man  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Mr.  Pecksniff 
looked  at  him.  ''  Did  you  speak,  my  worthy  sir  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  with  a  smile.  The  old  man  answered  in  the  neg- 
ative. "I  know  what  you  thought,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with 
another  smile.  ^^  Let  him  go  on,  my  friend.  The  develop- 
ment of  self-interest  in  the  human  mind  is  always  a  curious 
study.     Let  him  go  on,  sir." 

''  Go  on  !  "  observed  the  old  man;  in  a  mechanical  obedi- 
ence, it  appeared,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  suggestion. 

"  I  have  been  so  wretched  and  so  poor,"  said  Martin,  "  that 
I  am  indebted  to  the  charitable  help  of  a  stranger,  in  a  land 
of  strangers,  for  the  means  of  returning  here.  All  this  tells 
against  me  in  your  mind,  I  know.  I  have  given  you  cause  to 
think  I  have  been  driven  here  wholly  by  want,  and  have  not 
been  led  on,  in  any  degree,  by  affection  or  regret.  When  I 
parted  from  you,  grandfather,  I  deserved  that  suspicion,  but  I 
do  not  now.     I  do  not  now." 

The  chorus  put  its  hand  in  its  waistcoat,  and  smiled. 
"  Let  him  go  on,  my  worthy  sir,"  it  said.  ^'  I  know  what  you 
are  thinking  of,  but  don't  express  it  prematurely." 

Old  Martin  raised  his  eyes  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  face,  and 
appearing  to  derive  renewed  instruction  from  his  looks  and 
words,  said,  once  again: 

"Goon!" 

"  I  have  little  more  to  say,"  returned  Martin.  "  And  as 
I  say  it  now,  with  little  or  no  hope,  grandfather;  whatever 
dawn  of  hope  I  had  on  entering  the  room;  believe  it  to  be 
true.     At  least  believe  it  to  be  true." 

''  Beautiful  truth  ! "  exclaimed  the  chorus,  looking 
upward.  ''  How  is  your  name  profaned  by  vicious  persons! 
You  don't  live  in  a  well,  my  holy  principle,  but  on  the  lips  of 
false  mankind.  It  is  hard  to  bear  with  mankind,  dear  sir" — 
addressing  the  elder  Mr.  Chuzzlewit;  "but  let  us  do  so 
meekly.  It  is  our  duty  so  to  do.  Let  us  be  among  the  few 
who  do  their  duty.  If,"  pursued  the  chorus,  soaring  up  into 
a  lofty  flight,  "  as  the  poet  informs  us,  England  expects  every 
man  to  do  his  duty,  England  is  the  most  sanguine  country  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  and  will  find  itself  continually  disap- 
pointed." 

"  Upon  that  subject,"  said  Martin,  looking  calmly  at  the 
old  man  as  he  si)oke,  but  glancing  once  at  Mary,  whose  face 
was  now  bur\ed  in   lier  hands,   upon  the  back  of  his  easy- 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  663 

chair  ;  "  upon  that  subject,  which  first  occasioned  a  division 
between  us,  my  mind  and  heart  are  incapable  of  change. 
Whatever  influence  they  have  undergone,  since  that  unhappy 
time,  has  not  been  one  to  weaken  but  to  strengthen  me.  I 
can  not  profess  sorrow  for  that,  nor  irresolution  in  that,  nor 
shame  in  that.  Nor  would  you  wish  me,  I  know.  But  that 
I  might  have  trusted  to  your  love,  if  I  had  thrown  myself 
manfully  upon  it ;  that  I  might  have  won  you  over,  with 
ease,  if  I  had  been  more  yielding,  and  more  considerate;  that 
I  should  have  best  remembered  myself  in  forgetting  myself, 
and  recollecting  you  ;  reflection,  solitude,  and  misery,  have 
taught  me.  I  came,  resolved  to  say  this,  and  to  ask  your 
forgiveness  ;  not  so  much  in  hope  for  the  future,  as  in  regret 
for  the  past ;  for  all  that  I  would  ask  of  you  is,  that  you 
would  aid  me  to  live.  Help  me  to  get  honest  work  to  do, 
and  I  would  do  it.  My  condition  places  me  at  the  disad- 
vantage of  seeming  only  to  have  my  selfish  ends  to 
serve,  but  try  if  that  be  so,  or  not.  Try  if  I  be  self-willed, 
obdurate,  and  haughty,  as  I  was  ;  or  have  been  disciplined  in 
a  rough  school.  Let  the  voice  of  nature  and  association 
plead  between  us,  grandfather  ;  and  do  not,  for  one  fault, 
however  thankless,  quite  reject  me  !  " 

As  he  ceased,  the  gray  head  of  the  old  man  dropped 
again  ;  and  he  concealed  his  face  behind  his  outspread 
fingers. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  bending  over  him, 
''  you  must  not  give  way  to  this.  It  is  very  natural,  and  very 
amiable,  but  you  must  not  allow  the  shameless  conduct  of 
one  whom  you  long  ago  cast  off,  to  move  you  so  far.  Rouse 
yourself.  Think,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  think  of  me,  my 
friend." 

*'  I  will,"  returned  old  Martin,  looking  up  into  his  face. 
"  You  recall  me  to  myself.     I  will." 

*^  Why,  what,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sitting  down  beside  him 
in  a  chair  which  he  drew  up  for  the  purpose,  and  tapping 
him  playfully  on  the  arm,"  what  is  the  matter  with  my  strong- 
minded  compatriot,  if  I  may  venture  to  take  the  liberty  of 
calling  him  by  that  endearing  expression  ?  Shall  I  have 
to  scold  my  coadjutor,  or  to  reason  with  an  intellect  like  his  ? 
I  think  not." 

"  No,  no.  There  is  no  occasion,"  said  the  old  man.  '^  A 
momentary  feeling.     Nothing  more." 

"Indignation,"  observed  Mr,  Pecksniff,  ^^ will  bring  the 
scalding  tear  into  the  honest  eye  I   know  ; "  he  wiped  his 


064  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

own  elaborately.  *'  But  we  have  higher  duties  to  perform 
than  that.  Rouse  yourself,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Shall  I  give 
expression  to  your  thoughts,  my  friend  ?  " 

''Yes/'  said  old  Martin,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and 
looking  at  him,  half  in  vacancy  and  half  in  admiration,  as  if 
he  were  fascinated  by  the  man.  "  Speak  for  me,  Pecksniff. 
Thank  you.     You  are  true  to  me.     Thank  you  !  " 

"  Do  not  unman  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his 
hand  vigorously,  ''or  I  shall  be  unequal  to  the  task.  It  is 
not  agreeable  to  my  feelings,  my  good  sir,  to  address  the 
person  who  is  now  before  us,  for  when  I  ejected  him  from 
this  house,  after  hearing  of  his  unnatural  conduct  from  your 
lips,  I  renounced  communication  with  him  forever.  But  you 
desire  it  ;  and  that  is  sufficient.  Young  man  !  The  door  is 
immediately  behind  the  companion  of  your  infamy.  Blush 
if  you  can  ;  begone  Avithout  a  blush,  if  you  can't." 

Martin  looked  as  steadily  at  his  grandfather  as  if  there 
had  been  a  dead  silence  all  this  time.  The  old  man  looked 
no  less  steadily  at  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  When  I  ordered  you  to  leave  this  house  upon  the  last 
occasion  of  your  being  dismissed  from  it  with  disgrace," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  "  when,  stung  and  stimulated  beyond 
endurance  by  your  shameless  conduct  to  this  extraordinarily 
noble-minded  individual,  I  exclaimed  '  Go  forth  !  '  I  told 
you  that  I  wept  for  your  depravity.  Do  not  suppose  that 
the  tear  which  stands  in  my  eye  at  this  moment,  is  shed  for 
you.     It  is  shed  for  him,  sir.     It  is  shed  for  him." 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff,  accidentally  dropping  the  tear  in 
question  on  a  bald  part  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  head,  wiped 
the  place  with  his  pocket  handkerchief,  and  begged  pardon. 

"  It  is  shed  for  him,  sir,  whom  you  seek  to  make  the  vic- 
tim of  your  arts,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  ;  "  whom  you  seek  to 
plunder,  to  deceive,  and  to  mislead.  It  is  shed  in  sympathy 
with  him,  and  admiration  of  him  ;  not  in  pity  for  him.  for 
happily  he  knows  what  you  are.  You  shall  not  wrong  him 
further,  sir,  in  anyway,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  quite  transported 
with  enthusiasm,  "  while  I  have  life.  You  may  bestride  my 
senseless  corse,  sir.  That  is  very  likely.  I  can  imagine  a 
mind  like  yours  deriving  great  satisfaction  from  any  measure 
of  that  kind.  But  while  I  continue  to  be  called  upon  to 
exist,  sir,  you  must  strike  at  him  through  me.  Ay,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  at  Martin  with  indignant 
jocularity;  "  and  in  such  a  cause  you  will  find  me,  my  young 
sir,  an  ugly  customer  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVTT.  665 

Still  Martin  looked  steadily  and  mildly  at  his  grandfather. 
**  Will  you  give  me  no  answer,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  not  a 
word  ?  " 

"  You  hear  what  has  been  said,"  replied  the  old  man, 
without  averting  his  eyes  from  the  face  of  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
who  nodded  encouragingly. 

"  I  have  not  heard  your  voice.  I  have  not  heard  your 
spirit,"  returned  Martin. 

"  Tell  him  again,"  said  the  old  man,  still  gazing  up  in  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  face, 

"  I  only  hear,"  replied  Martin,  strong  in  his  purpose  from 
the  first,  and  stronger  in  it  as  he  felt  how  Pecksniff  winced 
and  shrunk  beneath  his  contempt  ;  '^  I  only  hear  what  you 
say  to  me,  grandfather." 

Perhaps  it  was  well  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  his  venerable 
friend  found  in  his  (Mr.  Pecksniff's)  features  an  exclusive 
and  engrossing  subject  of  contemplation,  for  if  his  eyes  had 
gone  astray,  and  he  had  compared  young  Martin's  bearing 
with  that  of  his  zealous  defender,  the  latter  disinterested 
gentleman  would  scarcely  have  shovv^n  to  greater  advantage 
than  on  the  memorable  afternoon  when  he  took  Tom  Pinch's 
last  receipt  in  full  of  all  demands.  One  really  might  have 
thought  there  was  some  quality  in  Mr.  Pecksniff — an  ema- 
nation from  the  brightness  and  purity  within  him  perhaps — 
which  set  off  and  adorned  his  foes,  they  looked  so  gallant 
and  manly  beside  him. 

"  Not  a  word  ?  "  said  Martin,  for  the  second  tim^e. 

"  I  remember  that  I  have  a  word  to  say,  Pecksniff,"  ob- 
served the  old  man.  "  But  a  word.  You  spoke  of  being  in- 
debted to  the  charitable  help  of  some  stranger  for  the  means 
of  returning  to  England.  Who  is  he  ?  And  what  help  in 
money  did  he  render  you  ?  " 

Although  he  asked  this  question  of  Martin,  he  did  not 
look  toward  him,  but  kept  his  eyes  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  be- 
fore. It  appeared  to  have  become  a  habit  with  him,  both 
in  a  literal  and  figurative  sense,  to  look  to  Mr.  Pecksniff 
alone. 

Martin  took  out  his  pencil,  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket- 
book,  and  hastily  wrote  down  the  particulars  of  his  debt  to 
Mr.  Bevan.  The  old  man  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the 
paper,  and  took  it ;  but  his  eyes  did  not  wander  from  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  face. 

"  It  would  be  a  poor  pride  and  a  false  humility,"  said 
Martin,  in  a  low  voice,  **  to  say,  I  do  not  wish  that  to  be 


666  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

paid,  or  that  I  have  any  present  hope  of  being  able  to  pay 
it.     But  I  never  felt  my  poverty  so  deeply  as  I  feel  it  now." 

**  Read  it  to  me,  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man, 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  approaching  the  perusal  of  the  paper 
as  if  it  were  a  manuscript  confession  of  a  murder,  complied. 

**I  think,  Pecksniff,"  said  old  Martin,  "  I  could  wish  that 
to  be  discharged.  1  should  not  like  the  lender,  who  was 
abroad,  who  had  no  opportunity  of  making  inquiry,  and  who 
did  (as  he  thought)  a  kind  action,  to  suffer." 

"  An  honorable  sentiment,  my  dear  sir.  Your  ov/n  entirely. 
But  a  dangerous  precedent,"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  ''  permit  me 
to  suggest." 

"  It  shall  not  be  a  precedent,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  It 
is  the  only  recognition  of  him.  But  we  will  talk  of  it, 
again.     You  shall  advise  me.     There  is  nothing  else  ?  " 

"  Nothing  else,"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff  buoyantly,  "but  for 
you  to  recover  this  intrusion — this  cowardly  and  indefensible 
outrage  on  your  feelings — with  all  possible  dispatch  and 
smile  again." 

*'  You  have  nothing  more  to  say  ?  "  inquired  the  old  man, 
laying  his  hand  with  unusual  earnestness  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
sleeve. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  would  not  say  what  rose  to  his  lips.  For 
reproaches,  he  observed,  were  useless. 

''  You  have  nothing  at  all  to  urge  ?  You  are  sure  of  that  ? 
If  you  have,  no  matter  what  it  is,  speak  freely.  I  will  oppose 
nothing  that  you  ask  of  me,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  tears  rose  in  such  abundance  to  Mr,  Pecksniff's  eyes 
at  this  proof  of  unlimited  confidence  on  the  part  of  his 
friend,  that  he  was  fain  to  clasp  the  bridge  of  his  nose  con- 
vulsively before  he  could  at  all  compose  himself.  When  he 
had  the  power  of  utterance  again,  he  said,  with  great 
emotion,  that  he  hoped  he  should  live  to  deserve  this  ; 
and  added,  that  he  had  no  other  observation  whatever  to 
make. 

For  a  few  moments  the  old  man  sat  looking  at  him,  with 
that  blank  and  motionless  expression  which  is  not  uncommon 
in  the  faces  of  those  whose  faculties  are  on  the  wane,  in  age. 
But  he  rose  up  firmly  too,  and  walked  toward  the  door, 
from  which  Mark  withdrew  to  make  way  for  him. 

The  obsequious  Mr.  Pecksniff  proffered  his  arm.  The 
old  man  took  it.  Turning  at  the  door,  he  said  to  Martin, 
waving  him  off  with  his  hand, 

"  You  have  heard  him.     Go  away.     It  is  all  over.     Go  I  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  667 

Mr.  Pecksniff  murmured  certain  cheering  expressions  of 
sympathy  and  encouragement  as  they  retired  ;  and  Martin, 
awakening  from  the  stupor  into  which  the  closing  portion  of 
this  scene  had  phmged  him,  to  the  opportunity  afforded  by 
their  departure,  caught  the  innocent  cause  of  all  in  his 
embrace,  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Dear  girl  !  "  said  Martin.  '*  He  has  not  changed  you. 
Why  what  an  impotent  and  harmless   knave  the  fellow  is  !  " 

"  You  have  restrained  yourself  so  nobly  !  You  have  borne 
so  much  !  " 

"Restrained  myself!"  cried  Martin,  cheerfully.  '*  You 
were  by,  and  were  unchanged,  I  knew.  What  more  advan- 
tage did  I  want  ?  The  sight  of  me  was  such  a  bitterness  to 
the  dog,  that  I  had  my  triumph  in  his  being  forced  to  endure 
it.  But  tell  me,  love — for  the  few  hasty  words  we  can 
exchange  now  are  precious — what  is  this  which  has  been 
rumored  to  me  ?  Is  it  true  that  you  are  persecuted  by  this 
knave's  addresses  ?  " 

*'  I  was,  dear  Martin,  and  to  some  extent  am  now  ;  but 
my  chief  source  of  unhappiness  has  been  anxiety  for  you. 
Why  did  you  leave  us  in  such  terrible  suspense  ?  " 

"  Sickness,  distance  ;  the  dread  of  hinting  at  our  real  con- 
dition, the  impossibility  of  concealing  it  except  in  perfect 
silence  ;  the  knowledge  that  the  truth  would  have  pained 
you  infinitely  more  than  uncertainty  and  doubt,"  said  Mar- 
tin, hurriedly  ;  as  indeed  every  thing  else  was  done  and  said, 
in  those  few  hurried  moments;  "  were  the  causes  of  my  writ- 
ing only  once.  But  Pecksniff  ?  You  needn't  fear  to  tell  me 
the  whole  tale  ;  for  you  saw  me  with  him  face  to  face,  hear- 
ing  him  speak,  and  not  taking  him  by  the  throat  :  what  is 
the  history  of  his  pursuit  of  you  ?  Is  it  known  to  my  grand- 
father ? " 

*'Yes." 

"  And  he  assists  him  in  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  eagerly. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  "  cried  Martin,  "  that  it  leaves  his  mind 
unclouded  in  that  one  respect  !  " 

"I  do  not  think,"  said  Mary,  "it  was  known  to  him  at 
first.  When  this  man  had  sufficiently  prepared  his  mind,  he 
revealed  it  to  him  by  degrees.  I  think  so,  but  I  only  know 
it  from  my  own  impression,  not  from  any  thing  they  told 
me.     Then  he  spoke  to  me  alone." 

"  My  grandfather  did  ? "  said  Martin. 

"  Yes — spoke  to  me  alone,  and  told  me — '* 


668  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  What  the  hound  had  said,"  cried  Martin.  "  Don't 
repeat  it." 

"  And  said  I  knew  well  what  qualities  he  possessed  ;  that 
he  was  moderately  rich,  in  good  repute,  and  high  in  his 
favor  and  confidence.  But  seeing  me  very  much  distressed, 
he  said  that  he  would  not  control  or  force  my  inclinations, 
but  would  content  himself  with  telling  me  the  fact. 
He  would  not  pain  me  by  dwelling  on  it,  or  reverting  to  it  ; 
nor  has  he  ever  done  so  since,  but  has  truly  kept  his 
word." 

"  The  man  himself  ? — "  asked  Martin. 

*'  He  has  had  few  opportunities  of  pursuing  his  suit.  I 
have  never  walked  out  alone,  or  remained  alone  an  instant 
in  his  presence.  Dear  Martin,  I  must  tell  you,"  she  con- 
tinued, "that  the  kindness  of  your  grandfather  to  me, 
remains  unchanged.  I  am  his  companion  still.  An  inde- 
scribable tenderness  and  compassion  seem  to  have  mingled 
themselves  with  his  old  regard  ;  and  if  I  were  his  only  child, 
I  could  not  have  a  gentler  father.  What  former  fancy  or  old 
habit  survives  in  this,  when  his  heart  has  turned  so  cold  to 
you,  is  a  mystery  I  can  not  penetrate  ;  but  it  has  been,  and 
it  is,  a  happiness  to  me,  that  I  remained  true  to  him  ;  that  if 
he  should  wake  from  his  delusion,  even  at  the  point  of  death, 
I  am  here,  love,  to  recall  you  to  his  thoughts." 

Martin  looked  with  admiration  on  her  glowing  face,  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

''  I  have  sometimes  heard,  and  read,"  she  said,  "  that  those 
whose  powers  had  been  enfeebled  long  ago,  and  whose  lives 
had  faded,  as  it  were,  into  a  dream,  have  been  known  to 
rouse  themselves  before  death,  and  inquire  for  familiar  faces 
once  very  dear  to  them  ;  but  forgotten,  unrecognized,  hated 
even,  in  the  meantime.  Think,  if  with  his  old  impressions 
of  this  man,  he  should  suddenly  resume  his  former  self,  and 
find  in  him  his  only  friend  !  " 

"  I  would  not  urge  you  to  abandon  him,  dearest,"  said 
Martin,  "  though  I  could  count  the  years  we  are  to  wear  out 
asunder.  But  the  influence  this  fellow  exercises  over  him, 
has  steadily  increased,  I  fear." 

She  could  not  help  admitting  that.  Steadily,  impercep- 
tibly, and  surely,  until  now  it  was  paramount  and  supreme. 
She  herself  had  none;  and  yet  he  treated  her  with  more  af- 
fection than  at  any  previous  time.  Martin  thought  the  incon- 
sistency a  part  of  his  weakness  and  decay. 

"  Does  the  influence  extend  to  fear  ?  "  said  Martin.     "  Is 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  669 

he  timid  of  asserting  his  own  opinion  in  the  presence  of  this 
infatuation  ?     I  fancied  so  just  now." 

"  I  have  thought  so,  often.  Often  when  we  are  sitting 
alone,  ahiiost  as  we  used  to  do,  and  I  have  been  reading  a 
favorite  book  to  him,  or  he  has  been  talking  quite  cheerfully, 
I  have  observed  that  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  has 
changed  his  whole  demeanor.  He  has  broken  off  immediate- 
ly, and  become  what  you  have  seen  to-day.  Wnen  we  first 
came  here  he  had  his  impetuous  outbreaks,  in  which  it  was 
not  easy  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  utmost  plausibility  to 
appease  him.  But  these  have  long  since  dwindled  away.  He 
defers  to  him  in  every  thing,  and  has  no  opinion  upon  any 
question,  but  that  which  is  forced  upon  him  by  this  treach- 
erous man." 

Such  was  the  account — rapidly  furnished  in  whispers,  and 
interrupted,  brief  as  it  was,  by  many  false  alarms  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  return — which  Martin  received  of  his  grand- 
father's decline,  and  of  that  good  gentleman's  ascendancy. 
He  heard  of  Tom  Pinch,  too,  and  Jonas,  too,  with  not  a  little 
about  himself  into  the  bargain;  for  though  lovers  are  remark- 
able for  leaving  a  great  deal  unsaid  on  all  occasions,  and 
very  probably  desiring  to  come  back  and  say  it,  they  are  re- 
markable also  for  a  wonderful  power  of  condensation,  and  can 
in  one  way  or  other,  gave  utterance  to  more  language — elo- 
quent language — in  any  given  short  space  of  time,  than  all  the 
six  hundred  and  fifty-eight  members  in  the  Commons  House 
of  Parliament  of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland;  who  are  strong  lovers,  no  doubt,  but  of  their  coun- 
try only,  which  makes  all  the  difference;  for  in  a  passion  of 
that  kind  (which  is  not  always  returned),  it  is  the  custom  to 
use  as  many  v/ords  as  possible,  and  express  nothing  whatever. 

A  caution  from  Mr.  Tapley;  a  hasty  interchange  of  fare- 
wells, and  of  something  else  which  the  proverb  says  must  not 
be  told  of  afterward;  a  white  hand  held  out  to  Mr.  Tapley 
himself,  which  he  kissed  with  the  devotion  of  a  knight-er- 
rant; more  farewells,  more  something  else's;  a  parting-  word 
from  Martin  that  he  would  write  from  London  and  would  do 
great  things  there  yet  (Heaven  knows  what,  but  he  quite  be- 
lieved it);  and  Mark  and  he  stood  on  the  outside  of  the 
Pecksniffian  halls. 

"  A  short  interview  after  such  an  absence  !  "  said  Martin, 
sorrowfully.  "  But  we  are  well  out  of  the  house.  We  might 
have  placed  ourselves  in  a  false  position  by  remaining  there 
even  so  long,  Mark." 


670  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

^'  I  don't  know  about  ourselves,  sir,"  he  returned  ;  "  but 
somebody  else  would  have  got  into  a  false  position,  if  he  had 
happened  to  come  back  again,  while  we  were  there.  I  had  the 
door  all  ready,  sir.  If  Pecksniff  had  showed  his  head,  or  had 
only  so  much  as  listened  behind  it,  I  would  have  caught  him 
like  a  walnut.  He's  the  sort  of  man,"  added  Mr.  Tapley, 
musing,  "  as  would  squeeze  soft,  I  know." 

A  person  who  was  evidently  going  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
house,  passed  them  at  this  moment.  He  raised  his  eyes  at 
the  mention  of  the  architect's  name;  and  when  he  had  gone 
on  a  few  yards,  stopped,  and  gazed  at  them.  Mr.  Tapley, 
also,  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  so  did  Martin;  for  the 
stranger,  as  he  passed,  had  looked  very  sharply  at  them. 

"  Who  may  that  be,  I  wonder  !  "  said  Martin.  "  The  face 
seems  familiar  to  me,  but  I  don't  know  the  man." 

*'  He  seems  to  have  a  amiable  desire  that  his  face  should 
be  tolerable  familiar  to  us,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  *'  for  he's  a 
staring  pretty  hard.  He'd  better  not  waste  his  beauty,  for  he 
ain't  got  much  to  spare." 

Coming  in  sight  of  the  Dragon,  they  saw  a  traveling  car- 
riage at  the  door. 

"  And  a  Salisbury  carriage,  eh  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley. 
"That's  what  he  came  in,  depend  upon  it.  What's  in  the  wind 
now  ?  A  new  pupil,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  P'raps  it's  a  order 
for  another  grammar-school,  of  the  same  pattern  as  the  last." 

Before  they  could  enter  at  the  door,  Mrs.  Lupin  came  run- 
ning out,  and  beckoning  them  to  the  carriage  showed  them  a 
portmanteau  with  the  name  of  Chuzzlewit  upon  it. 

*'  Miss  Pecksniff's  husband  that  was,"  said  the  good 
woman  to  Martin.  "  I  didn't  know  what  terms  you  might 
be  on,  and  was  quite  in  a  worry  till  you  came  back." 

"  He  and  I  have  never  interchanged  a  word  yet,"  observed 
Martin;  "  and  as  I  have  no  wish  to  be  better  or  worse  ac- 
quainted with  him,  I  will  not  put  myself  in  his  way.  We 
passed  him  on  the  road,  I  have  no  doubt.  I  am  glad  he  timed 
his  coming  as  he  did.  Upon  my  word  !  Miss  Pecksniff's 
husband  travels  gayly  !  " 

"  A  very  fine-looking  gentleman  with  him — in  the  best 
room  now,"  whispered  Mrs.  Lupin,  glancing  up  at  the 
window  as  they  went  into  the  house.  "  He  has  ordered 
every  thing  that  can  be  got  for  dinner  ;  and  has  the  glossiest 
mustaches  and  whiskers  ever  you  saw." 

"  Has  he  ? "  cried  Martin,  "  why  then  we'll  endeavor  to 
avoid  him  too,  in  the  hope  that  our  self-denial  may  be  strong 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  671 

enough  for  the  sacrifice.  It  is  only  for  a  few  hours,"  said 
Martin,  dropping  wearily  into  a  chair  behind  the  little  screen 
in  the  bar.  "  Our  visit  has  met  with  no  success,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Lupin,  and  1  must  go  to  London." 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  the  hostess. 

*'  Yes.  One  foul  wind  no  more  makes  a  winter,  than  one 
swallow  makes  a  summer.  I'll  try  it  again.  Tom  Pinch 
has  succeeded.  With  his  advice  to  guide  me,  I  may  do  the 
same.  I  took  Tom  under  my  protection  once,  God  save  the 
mark!"  said  Martin,  with  a  melancholy  smile;  ''and 
promised  I  would  make  his  fortune.  Perhaps  Tom  will  take 
me  under  his  protection  now,  and  teach  me  how  to  earn  my 
bread." 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

FURTHER    CONTINUATION  OF  THE    ENTERPRISE    OF    MR.  JONAS 

AND- HIS  FRIEND. 

It  was  a  special  quality,  among  the  many  admirable  qual- 
ities possessed  by  Mr.  Pecksniff,  that  the  more  he  was  found 
out,  the  more  hypocrisy  he  practiced.  Let  him  be  discom- 
fited in  one  quarter,  and  he  refreshed  and  recompensed 
himself  by  carrying  the  war  into  another.  If  his  workings 
and  windings  were  detected  by  A,  so  much  the  greater  reason 
was  there  for  practicing  without  loss  of  time  on  B,  if  it  were 
only  to  keep  his  hand  in.  He  had  never  been  such  a  saintly 
and  improving  spectacle  to  all  about  him,  as  after  his  detec- 
tion by  Thomas  Pinch.  He  had  scarcely  ever  been  at  once 
so  tender  in  his  humanity,  and  so  dignified  and  exalted  in 
his  virtue,  as  when  young  Martin's  scorn  was  fresh  and  hot 
upon  him. 

Having  this  large  stock  of  superfluous  sentiment  and 
morality  on  hand  which  must  positively  be  cleared  off  at  any 
sacrifice,  Mr.  Pecksniff  no  sooner  heard  his  son-in-law 
announced,  than  he  regarded  him  as  a  kind  of  wholesale  or 
general  order,  to  be  immediately  executed.  Descending, 
therefore,  swiftly  to  the  parlor,  and  clasping  the  young  man 
in  his  arms,  he  exclaimed,  with  looks  and  gestures  that 
denoted  the  perturbation  of  his  spirit : 

"  Jonas  !  My  child  !  she  is  well  ?  There  is  nothing  the 
matter  ?  " 

"What,  you're  at  it  again,  are  you?"  replied  his  son-in- 
iaw.     "  Even  with  me  ?     Getaway  with  you,  will  you  ?  " 


672  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Tell  me  she  is  well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Tell 
me  she  is  well,  my  boy  !  " 

"  She's  well  enough,"  retorted  Jonas,  disengaging  himself. 
"  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  her'' 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  her  !  "  cried  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, sitting  down  in  the  nearest  chair,  and  rubbing  up  his 
hair,  ''  Fie  upon  my  weakness  !  I  can  not  help  it,  Jonas. 
Thank  you.  I  am  better  now.  How  is  my  other  child  ;  my 
eldest  ;  my  Cherrywerrychigo  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  invent- 
ing a  playful  little  name  for  her,  in  the  restored  lightness  of 
his  heart. 

"  She's  much  about  the  same  as  usual,"  returned  Mr. 
Jonas.  ''  She  sticks  pretty  close  to  the  vinegar-bottle.  Yoa 
know  she's  got  a  sweetheart,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  '*  from  head- 
quarters ;  from  my  child  herself.  I  will  not  deny  that  it 
moved  me  to  contemplate  the  loss  of  my  remaining  daughter, 
Jonas — I  am  afraid  we  parents  are  selfish,  I  am  afraid  we 
are — but  it  has  ever  been  the  study  of  my  life  to  qualify 
them  for  the  domestic  hearth  ;  and  it  is  a  sphere  which 
Cherry  will  adorn." 

"  She  need  adorn  some  sphere  or  other,"  observed  his  son- 
in-law,  *'  for  she  ain't  very  ornamental  in  general." 

"  My  girls  are  now  provided  for,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  They  are  now  happily  provided  for,  and  I  have  not  labored 
in  vain  !  " 

This  is  exactly  what  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  said,  if  one 
of  his  daughters  had  drawn  a  prize  of  thirty  thousand  pounds 
in  the  lottery,  or  if  the  other  had  picked  up  a  valuable  purse 
in  the  street,  which  nobody  appeared  to  claim.  In  either  of 
these  cases,  he  would  have  invoked  a  patriarchal  blessing  on 
the  fortunate  head,  with  great  solemnity,  and  would  have 
taken  immense  credit  to  himself,  as  having  meant  it  from 
the  infant's  cradle. 

"  Suppose  we  talk  about  something  else,  now,"  observed 
Jonas,  dryly;  ''  just  for  a  change.     Are  you  quite  agreeable? " 

"  Quite,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ah,  you  wag,  you  naughty 
wag  !  You  laugh  at  poor  old  fond  papa.  Well  !  He 
deserves  it.  And  he  don't  mind  it  either,  for  his  feelings 
are  their  own  reward.  You  have  come  to  stay  with  me, 
Jonas?" 

"  No.     I've  got  a  friend  with  me,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Bring  your  friend  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  gush  o£ 
hospitality.     ''  Bring  any  number  of  your  iriends  !  " 


i 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWTT.  673 

**  This  ain't  the  sort  of  man  to  be  brought,"  said  Jonas, 
contemptuously.  "  I  think  I  see  myself  '  bringing  '  him  to 
your  house  for  a  treat !  Thank'ee  all  the  same  ;  but  he's  a 
little  too  near  the  top  of  the  tree  for  that,  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  picked  up  his  ears  ;  his  interest  was 
awakened.  A  position  near  the  top  of  the  tree  was  greatness, 
virtue,  goodness,  sense,  genius  ;  or,  it  should  rather  be  said, 
a  dispensation  from  all,  and  in  itself  something  immeasur- 
ably better  than  all  ;  with  Mr.  Pecksniff.  A  man  who  was 
able  to  look  down  upon  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  not  be  looked 
up  at,  by  that  gentleman,  with  too  great  an  amount  of 
deference,  or  from  a  position  of  too  much  humility.  So  it 
always  is  with  great  spirits. 

**  I'll  tell  you  what  you  may  do,  if  you  like,''  said  Jonas  : 
"  you  may  come  and  dine  with  us  at  the  Dragon.  We  were 
forced  to  come  down  to  Salisbury  last  night,  on  some  busi- 
ness, and  I  got  him  to  bring  me  over  here  this  morning,  in 
his  carriage  ;  at  least,  not  his  own  carriage,  for  we  fiad  a 
break-down  in  the  night,  but  one  we  hired  instead  ;  it's  all 
the  same.  Mind  what  you're  about,  you  know.  He's  not 
used  to  all  sorts  ;  he  only  mixes  with  the  best !  " 

"  Some  young  nobleman  who  has  been  borrowing  money 
of  you  at  good  interest,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking 
his  forefinger  facetiously.  '*  I  shall  be  delighted  to  know 
the  gay  sprig." 

"  Borrowing  !  "  echoed  Jonas.  **  Borrowing  !  When 
you're  a  twentieth  part  as  rich  as  he  is,  you  may  shut  up 
shop  !  We  should  be  pretty  well  off,  if  we  could  buy  his 
furniture,  and  plate,  and  pictures,  by  clubbing  together.  A 
likely  man  to  borrow  :  Mr.  Montague  !  Why,  cince  I  was 
lucky  enough,  (come  !  and  I'll  say,  sharp  enough,  too)  to  get 
a  share  in  the  assurance  office  that  he's  president  of,  I've 
made — never  mind  what  I've  made,"  said  Jonas,  seeming  to 
recover  all  at  once  his  usual  caution.  "  You  know  me  pretty 
well,  and  I  don't  blab  about  such  things.  But,  Ecod,  I've 
made  a  trifle." 

"  Really,  my  dear  Jonas,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  much 
warmth,  ''  a  gentleman  like  this  should  receive  some  atten- 
tion. Would  he  like  to  see  the  church  ?  Or  if  he  has  a  taste 
for  the  fine  arts — v/hich  I  have  no  doubt  he  has,  from  the 
description  you  give  of  his  circumstances — I  can  send  him 
down  a  few  portfolios.  Salisbury  Cathedral,  my  dear  Jonas," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff — the  mention  of  the  portfolios,  and  his 
anxiety  to  display  himself  to  advantage,  suggesting  his  usual 


674  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

phraseology  in  that  regard — "  is  an  edifice  replete  with  veil' 
erable  associations,  and  strikingly  suggestive  of  the  loftiest 
emotions.  It  is  here  we  contemplate  the  work  of  bygone 
ages.  It  is  here  we  listen  to  the  swelling  organ,  as  we  stroll 
through  the  reverberating  aisles.  We  have  drawings  of  this 
celebrated  structure  from  the  north,  from  the  south,  from 
the  east,  from  the  west,  from  the  south-east,  from  the 
nor'-west " 

During  this  digressien,  and  indeed  during  the  whole  dia- 
logue, Jonas  had  been  rocking  on  his  chair,  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  his  head  thrown  cunningly  on  one  side. 
He  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff  now  with  such  shrewd  meaning 
twinkling  in  his  eyes,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  stopped,  and  asked 
him  what  he  was  going  to  say. 

*'  Ecod  '  "  he  answered.  "  Pecksniff,  if  I  knew  how  you 
meant  to  leave  your  money,  I  could  put  you  in  the  way  of 
doubling  it,  in  no  time.  It  wouldn't  be  bad  to  keep  a  chance 
like  this  snug  in  the  family.     But  you're  such  a  deep  one  !  " 

"'  Jonas  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  much  affected,  ''  I  am  not 
a  diplomatical  character  ;  my  heart  is  in  my  hand.  By  far 
the  greater  part  of  the  inconsiderable  savings  I  have  accu- 
mulated in  the  course  of — I  hope—  a  not  dishonorable  or  use- 
less career,  is  already  given,  devised,  and  bequeathed  (cor- 
rect me,  my  dear  Jonas,  if  I  am  technically  wrong),  with 
expressions  of  confidence,  which  I  will  not  repeat  ;  and  in 
securities  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  mention  ;  to  a  person 
whom  I  can  not,  whom  I  will  not,  whom  I  need  not,  name." 
Here  he  gave  the  hand  of  his  son-in-law  a  fervent  squeeze, 
as  if  he  would  have  added,  '*  God  bless  you  ;  be  very  care- 
ful of  it  when  you  get  it  !  " 

Mr.  Jonas  only  shook  his  head  and  laughed,  and  seeming 
to  think  better  of  what  he  had  had  in  his  mind,  said,  "  No. 
He  would  keep  his  own  counsel."  But  as  he  observed  that 
he  would  take  a  walk,  Mr.  Pecksniff  insisted  on  accompany- 
ing him,  remarking  that  he  could  leave  a  card  for  Mr.  Mon- 
tague, as  they  went  along,  by  way  of  gentleman-usher  to 
himself  at  dinner-time.     Which  he  did. 

In  the  course  of  their  walk,  Mr.  Jonas  affected  to  maintain 
that  close  reserve  which  had  operated  as  a  timely  check 
upon  him  during  the  foregoing  dialogue.  And  as  he  made 
no  attempt  to  conciliate  Mr.  Pecksniff,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
was  more  boorish  and  rude  to  him  than  usual,  that  gentle- 
man, so  far  from  suspecting  his  real  design,  laid  himself  out  to 
be  attacked  with  advantage.     For  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  675 

knave  to  think  the  tools  with  which  he  works  indispensable 
to  knavery  ;  and  knowing  what  he  would  do  himself  in  such 
a  case,  Mr.  Pecksniff  argued,  "if  this  young  man  wanted 
any  thing  of  me  for  his  own  ends,  he  would  be  polite  and 
deferential." 

The  more  Jonas  repelled  him  in  his  hints  and  inquiries, 
the  more  solicitous,  therefore,  Mr.  Pecksniff  became  to  be 
initiated  into  the  golden  mysteries  at  which  he  had  obscurely 
glanced.  Why  should  there  be  cold  and  worldly  secrets,  he 
observed,  between  relations  ?  What  was  life  without  confi- 
dence ?  If  the  chosen  husband  of  his  daughter,  the  man  to 
whom  he  had  delivered  her  with  so  much  pride  and  hope, 
such  bounding  and  such  beaming  joy  :  if  he  were  not  a  green 
spot  in  the  barren  waste  of  life,  where  was  the  oasis  to  be 
found  ? 

Little  did  Mr.  Pecksniff  think  on  what  a  very  green  spot 
he  planted  one  foot  at  that  moment  !  Little  did  he  foresee 
when  he  said,  *'  All  is  but  dust !  "  how  very  shortly  he  would 
come  down  with  his  own. 

Inch  by  inch,  in  his  grudging  and  ill-conditioned  way  : 
sustained  to  the  life,  for  the  hope  of  making  Mr.  Pecksniff 
suffer  in  that  tender  place,  the  pocket,  where  Jonas 
smarted  so  terribly  himself,  gave  him  an  additional  and  ma- 
licious interest  in  the  wiles  he  was  set  on  to  practice:  inch  by 
inch,  and  bit  by  bit,  Jonas  rather  allowed  the  dazzling  pros- 
pects of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  establishment  to  escape  him, 
than  parade  them  before  his  greedy  listener.  And  in  the  same 
niggardly  spirit,  he  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  infer,  if  he  chose 
(which  he  did  choose,  of  course),  that  a  consciousness  of 
not  having  any  great  natural  gifts  of  speech  and  manner 
himself,  rendered  him  desirous  to  have  the  credit  of  intro- 
ducing to  Mr.  Montague  some  one  who  was  well  endowed 
in  those  respects,  and  so  atone  for  his  own  deficiencies. 
Otherwise  he  muttered  discontentedly,  he  would  have  seen 
his  beloved  father-in-law  "far  enough  off,"  before  he  would 
have  taken  him  into  his  confidence. 

Primed  in  this  artful  manner,  Mr.  Pecksniff  presented 
himself  at  dinner-time  in  such  a  state  of  suavity,  benevo- 
lence, cheerfulness,  politeness,  and  cordiality,  as  even  he 
had  perhaps  never  attained  before.  The  frankness  of  the 
country  gentleman,  the  refinement  of  the  artist,  the  good- 
humored  allowance  of  the  man  of  the  world  ;  philanthropy, 
forbearance,  piety,  toleration,  all  blended  together  in  a  flexi- 
ble adaptability  'o  any  thing  and  every  thing  ;  were  expressed 


(576  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  he  shook  hands  with  the  great  speculator 
and  capitalist. 

**  Welcome,  respected  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  our 
humble  village  !  We  are  a  simple  people  ;  primitive  clods, 
Mr.  Montague  ;  but  we  can  appreciate  the  honor  of  your 
visit,  as  my  dear  son-in-law  can  testify.  It  is  very  strange," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pressing  his  hand  almost  reverentially, 
"  but  I  seem  to  know  you.  That  towering  forehead,  my 
dear  Jonas,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  aside,  *'  and  those  clustering 
masses  of  rich  hair — I  must  have  seen  you,  my  dear  sir,  in 
the  sparkling  throng." 

Nothing  was  more  probable  they  all  agreed. 

''  I  could  have  wished,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  have  had 
the  honor  of  introducing  you  to  an  elderly  inmate  of  our 
house  ;  to  the  uncle  of  our  friend.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  sir, 
would  have  been  proud,  indeed,  to  have  taken  you  by  the 
hand." 

"  Is  the  gentleman  here  now  ?  "  asked  Montague,  turning 
deeply  red. 

"  He  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  said  nothing  about  that,  Chuzzlewit." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  care  to  hear  of  it,"  returned 
Jonas.  "  You  wouldn't  care  to  know  him,  I  can  promise  you." 

"  Jonas  !  my  dear  Jonas  ! "  remonstrated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Really  !  " 

"  Oh  !  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to  speak  up  for  him,"  said 
Jonas.  "You  have  nailed  him.  You'll  get  a  fortune  by  him." 

*'  Oh  !  Is  the  wind  in  that  quarter  ?  "  cried  Montague. 
"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  and  here  they  all  laughed — especially  Mr. 
Pecksniff. 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  that  gentleman,  clapping  his  son-in-law 
playfully  upon  the  shoulder.  *'  You  must  not  believe  all  that 
my  young  relative  says,  Mr.  Montague.  You  may  believe 
him  in  official  business,  and  trust  him  in  official  business,  but 
you  must  not  attach  importance  to  his  flights  of  fancy." 

*'  Upon  my  life,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  cried  Montague,  **  I 
attach  the  greatest  importance  to  that  last  observation  of  his. 
I  trust  and  hope  it's  true.  Money  can  not  be  turned  and 
turned  again  quickly  enough  in  the  ordinary  course,  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  There  is  nothing  like  building  our  fortunes  on  the 
weaknesses  of  mankind." 

"  Oh  fie  !  Oh  fie  !  Oh  fie,  for  shame  !  "  cried  Mr.  Peck-, 
sniff.     But  they  all  laughed  again — especially  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  give  you  my  honor,  that  ive  do  it,'    said  Montague. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  677 

"  Oh  fie,  fie  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  You  are  very  pleas- 
ant. That  I  am  sure  you  don't  !  That  I  am  sure  you  don't  ! 
How  can  you,  you  know  ?  " 

Again  they  all  laughed  in  concert;  and  again  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff laughed  especially. 

This  was  very  agreeable  indeed.  It  was  confidential, 
easy,  straightforward,  and  still  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  the  posi- 
tion of  being  in  a  gentle  way  the  mentor  of  the  party.  The 
greatest  achievements  in  the  article  of  cookery  that  the 
Dragon  had  ever  performed,  were  set  before  them;  the  old- 
est and  best  wines  in  the  Dragon's  cellar  saw  the  light  on  that 
occasion  ;  a  thousand  bubbles,  indicative  of  the  wealth  and 
station  of  Mr.  Montague  in  the  depths  of  his  pursuits,  were 
constantly  rising  to  the  surface  of  the  conversation;  and  they 
were  as  frank  and  merry  as  three  honest  men  could  be.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  thought  it  a  pity  (he  said  so)  that  Mr.  Montague 
should  think  lightly  of  mankind  and  their  weaknesses.  He 
was  anxious  upon  this  subject;  his  mind  ran  upon  it;  in  one 
way  or  another  he  was  constantly  coming  back  to  it;  he  must 
make  a  convert  of  him,  he  said.  And  as  often  as  Mr.  Mon- 
tague repeated  his  sentiment  about  building  fortunes  on  the 
weaknesses  of  mankind,  and  added  frankly,  "  IVe  do  it  !  " 
just  as  often  Mr.  Pecksniff  repeated  "  Oh  fie  !  Oh  fie,  for 
shame  !  I  am  sure  you  don't.  How  azn  you,  you  know  ?  " 
laying  a  greater  stress  each  time  on  those  last  words. 

The  frequent  repetition  of  this  playful  inquiry  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  led  at  last  to  playful  answers  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Montague;  but  after  some  little  sharp-shooting  on  both 
sides,  Mr.  Pecksniff  became  grave,  almost  to  tears;  observing 
that  if  Mr.  Montague  would  give  him  leave,  he  would  drink 
the  health  of  his  young  kinsman,  Mr.  Jonas;  congratulating 
him  upon  the  valuable  and  distinguished  friendship  he  had 
formed,  but  envying  him,  he  would  confess,  his  usefulness  to 
his  fellow-creatures.  For,  if  he  understood  the  objects  of 
that  institution  with  which  he  was  newly  and  advantageously 
connected — knowing  them  but  imperfectly — they  were  calcu- 
lated to  do  good;  and  for  his  (Mr.  Pecksniff's)  part,  if  he 
could  in  any  way  promote  them,  he  thought  he  would  be 
able  to  lay  his  head  upon  his  pillow  every  night,  with  an 
absolute  certainty  of  going  to  sleep  at  once. 

The  transition  from  this  accidental  remark  (for  it  was 
quite  accidental,  and  had  fallen  from  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  the 
openness  of  his  soul),  to  the  discussion  of  the  subject  as  a 
matter  of  business,  was   easy.     Books,   papers,    statements, 


678  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

tables,  calculations  of  various  kinds,  were  soon  spread  out 
before  them  ;  and  as  they  were  all  framed  with  one  object, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  they  should  all  have  tended  to  one 
end.  But  still,  whenever  Montague  enlarged  upon  the  profits 
of  the  office,  and  said  that  as  long  as  there  were  gulls  upon 
the  wing  it  must  succeed,  Mr.  Pecksniff  mildly  said,  "  Oh 
fie  !  " — and  might  indeed  have  remonstrated  with  him,  but 
that  he  knew  he  was  joking,  Mr.  Pecksniff  did  know  he 
was  joking;  because  he  said  so. 

There  never  had  been  before,  and  there  never  would  be 
again,  such  an  opportunity  for  the  investment  of  a  consider- 
able sum  (the  rate  of  advantage  increased  in  proportion  to 
the  amount  invested),  as  at  that  moment.  The  only  time 
that  had  at  all  approached  it,  was  the  time  when  Jonas  had 
come  into  the  concern;  which  made  him  ill-natured  now, 
and  inclined  him  to  pick  out  a  doubt  in  this  place,  and  a 
flaw  in  that,  and  grumblingly  to  advise  Mr,  Pecksniff  to 
think  better  of  it.  The  sum  which  would  complete  the  pro- 
prietorship in  this  snug  concern,  was  nearly  equal  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  whole  hoard;  not  counting  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  that 
is  to  say,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  money  in  the  bank,  the 
possession  of  which  inclined  him  the  more  to  make  a  dash 
with  his  own  private  sprats  for  the  capture  of  such  a  whale 
as  Mr.  Montague  described.  The  returns  began  almost 
immediately,  and  were  immense.  The  end  of  it  was,  that 
Mr.  Pecksniff  agreed  to  become  the  last  partner  and  proprie- 
tor in  the  Anglo-Bengalee,  and  made  an  appointment  to  dine 
with  Mr.  Montague,  at  Salisbury,  on  the  next  day  but 
one,  then  and  there  to  complete  the  negotiation. 

It  took  so  long  to  bring  the  subject  to  this  head,  that  it 
was  nearly  midnight  when  they  parted.  When  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff walked  down  stairs  to  the  door,  he  found  Mrs.  Lupin 
standing  there,  looking  out. 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend  !  "  he  said  :  "  not  a-bed  yet  !  Con- 
templating the  stars,  Mrs.  Lupin  ?" 

''  It's  a  beautiful  starlight  night,  sir." 

"  A  beautiful  starlight  night,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking 

up.     *'  Behold  the  planets,  how  they  shine  !     Behold  the 

those  two  persons  who  were  here  this  morning,  have  left  your 
house,  I  hope,  Mrs.  Lupin  ?  " 

**  Yes,  sir.     Tiiey  are  gone." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff.  "  Behold  the 
wonders  of  the  firmament,  Mrs.  Lupin  !  How  glorious  is 
this  scene  1     When  I   look  up  at  those  shining  orbs,  I  think 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLEWIT.  679 

that  each  of  them  is  winking  to  the  other  to  take  notice  of 
the  vanity  of  men's  pursuits.  My  fellow-men  !  "  cried  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  in  pity  ;  ''  you  are  much  mis- 
taken ;  my  worthy  relatives,  you  are  much  deceived  !  The 
stars  are  perfectly  contented  (I  suppose  so)  in  their  several 
spheres.  Why  are  not  you  ?  Oh  !  do  not  strive  and 
struggle  to  enrich  yourselves,  or  to  get  the  better  of 
each  other,  my  deluded  friends,  but  look  up  there,  with 
me  !" 

Mrs.  Lupin  shook  her  head,  and  heaved  a  sigh.  It  was 
very  affecting. 

*'  Look  up  there,  with  me  ! "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
stretching  out  his  hand  ;  "  with  me,  an  humble  individual 
who  is  also  an  insect  like  yourselves.  Can  silver,  gold,  or 
precious  stones,  sparkle  like  those  constellations  !  I  think 
not.  Then  do  not  thirst  for  silver,  gold,  or  precious  stones  ; 
but  look  up  there,  with  me!  " 

With  these  words,  the  good  man  patted  Mrs.  Lupin's 
hand  between  his  own,  as  if  he  would  have  added,  "  think  of 
this,  my  good  woman!  "  and  walked  away  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy 
or  rapture,  with  his  hat  under  his  arm. 

Jonas  sat  in  the  attitude  in  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  left 
him,  gazing  moodily  at  his  friend,  who,  surrounded  by  a 
heap  of  documents,  was  writing  something  on  an  oblong  slip 
of  paper. 

"  You  mean  to  wait  at  Salisbury  over  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row, do  you,  then  ?"  said  Jonas. 

*'  You  heard  our  appointment,"  returned  Montague,  with- 
out raising  his  eyes.  "  In  any  case  I  should  have  waited  to 
see  after  the  boy." 

They  appeared  to  have  changed  places  again  ;  Montague 
being  in  high  spirits  ;  Jonas  gloomy  and  lowering. 

''  You  don't  want  me,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Jonas. 

"  I  want  you  to  put  your  name  here,"  he  returned, 
glancing  at  him  with  a  smile,  ''  as  soon  as  I  have  filled  up 
the  stamp.  I  may  as  well  have  your  note  of  hand  for  that 
extra  capital.  That's  all  I  want.  If  you  wish  to  go  home, 
I  can  manage  Mr.  Pecksniff  now,  alone.  There  is  a  perfect 
understanding  between  us." 

Jonas  sat  scowling  at  him  as  he  wrote,  in  silence. 
When  he  had  finished  his  writing,  and  had  dried  it  on  the 
blotting-paper  in  his  traveling-desk,  he  looked  up,  and 
tossed  the  pen  toward  him. 

"What,   not  a  day's  grace,  not   a  day's  trust,  eh  ? "  said 


6So  MARTIN  C'HUZZLEWIT. 

Jonas,  bitterly.  *'  Not  after  the  pains  I  have  taken  with 
to-night's  work? " 

"To-night's  work  was  a  part  of  our  bargain,"  repHed 
Montague  ;  *' and  so  was  this." 

"  You  drive  a  hard  bargain,"  said  Jonas,  advancing  to  the 
table.     '*  You  know  best.     Give  it  here  !  " 

Montague  gave  him  the  paper.  After  pausing  as  if  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  put  his  name  to  it,  Jonas 
dipped  his  pen  hastily  in  the  nearest  inkstand,  and  began  to 
write.  But  he  had  scarcely  marked  the  paper  when  he 
started  back,  in  a  panic. 

"  Why,  what  the  devil's   this  ?  "  he  said.     "  It's  bloody  !  " 

He  had  dipped  the  pen,  as  another  moment  showed,  into 
red  ink.  But  he  attached  a  strange  degree  of  importance  to 
the  mistake.  He  asked  how  it  had  come  there,  who  had 
brought  it,  why  it  had  been  brought ;  and  looked  at  Mon- 
tague, at  first,  as  if  he  thought  he  had  put  a  trick  upon  him. 
Even  when  he  used  a  different  pen,  and  the  right  ink,  he 
made  some  scratches  on  another  paper  first,  as  half-believing 
they  would  turn  red  also. 

''  Black  enough,  this  time,"  he  said,  holding  the  note  to 
Montague.     "  Good-by." 

*'  Going  now  !  How  do  you  mean  to  get  away  from 
here?" 

"  I  shall  cross  early  in  the  morning,  to  the  high  road, 
before  you  are  out  of  bed  ;  and  catch  the  day-coach,  going 
up.     Good-by  !  " 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry  !  " 

*'I  have  something  to  do,"  said  Jonas.     "  Good-by  !  " 

His  friend  looked  after  him  as  he  went  out,  in  surprise, 
which  gradually  gave  place  to  an  air  of  satisfaction  and  relief. 

"  It  happens  all  the  better.  It  brings  about  what  I  wanted, 
without  any  difficulty.     I  shall  travel  home  alone." 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

IN  WHICH  TOM  PINCH  AND  HIS  SISTER  TAKE  A  LITTLE  PLEAS- 
URE ;  BUT  QUITE  IN  A  DOMESTIC  WAV,  AND  WITH  NO  CERE- 
MONY ABOUT    IT. 

Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister  having  to  part,  for  the  dispatch 
of  the  morning's  business,  immediately  after  the  dispersion 
of  the  other  actors  in  the  scene  upon  the  wharf,  with  which 


MARTIxN   CHUZZLEWIT.  68i 

the  reader  has  been  already  made  acquainted,  had  no  op- 
portunity of  discussing  the  subject  at  that  time.  But  Tom, 
in  his  soHtary  office,  and  Ruth,  in  the  triangular  parlor, 
thought  about  nothing  else  all  day ;  and,  when  their  hour  of 
meeting  in  the  afternoon  approached,  they  were  very  full  of 
it,  to  be  sure. 

There  was  a  little  plot  between  them,  that  Tom  should 
always  come  out  of  the  Temple  by  one  way  ;  and  that  was 
past  the  fountain.  Coming  through  Fountain  Court  he  was 
just  to  glance  down  the  steps  leading  into  Garden  Court,  and 
to  look  once  all  round  him  ;  and  if  Ruth  had  come  to  meet 
him,  there  he  would  see  her  ;  not  sauntering,  you  under- 
stand (on  account  of  the  clerks),  but  coming  briskly  up,  with 
the  best  little  laugh  upon  her  face  that  ever  played  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  fountain,  and  beat  it  all  to  nothing.  For,  fifty 
to  one,  Tom  had  been  looking  for  her  in  the  wrong  direction 
and  had  quite  given  her  up,  while  she  had  been  tripping 
toward  him  from  the  first,  jingling  that  little  reticule  of  hers 
(with  all  the  keys  in  it)  to  attract  his  wandering  observation. 

Whether  there  was  life  enough  left  in  the  slow  vegetation 
of  Fountain  Court  for  the  smoky  shrubs  to  have  any  con- 
sciousness of  the  brightest  and  purest-hearted  little  woman 
in  the  world,  is  a  question  for  gardeners  and  those  who  are 
learned  in  the  loves  of  plants.  But,  that  it  was  a  good  thing 
for  that  same  paved  yard  to  have  such  a  delicate  little  figure 
flitting  through  it  ;  that  it  passed  like  a  smile  from  the  grimy 
old  houses,  and  the  worn  flag-stones,  and  left  them  duller, 
darker,  sterner  than  before  ;  there  is  no  sort  of  doubt.  The 
Temple  fountain  might  have  leaped  up  twenty  feet  to  greet 
the  spring  of  hopeful  maidenhood,  that  in  her  person  stole 
on,  sparkling,  through  the  dry  and  dusty  channels  of  the  law, 
the  chirping  sparrows,  bred  in  Temple  chinks  and  crannies, 
might  have  held  their  peace  to  listen  to  imaginary  skylarks, 
as  so  fresh  a  little  creature  passed  ;  the  dingy  boughs,  un- 
used to  droop,  otherwise  than  in  their  puny  growth,  might 
have  bent  down  in  a  kindred  gracefulness,  to  shed  their 
benedictions  on  her  graceful  head  ;  old  love  letters,  shut  up 
in  iron  boxes  in  the  neighboring  offices,  and  made  of  no 
account  among  the  heaps  of  family  papers  into  which  they 
had  strayed,  and  of  which,  in  their  degeneracy,  they  formed 
a  part,  might  have  stirred  and  fluttered  with  a  moment's 
recollection  of  their  ancient  tenderness,  as  she  went  lightly 
by.  Any  thing  might  have  happened  that  did  not  happen, 
and  never  will,  for  the  love  of  Ruth. 


682  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Something  happened,  too,  upon  the  afternoon  of  which 
the  history  treats.  Not  for  her  love.  Oh,  no  !  quite  by 
accident,  and  without  the  least  reference  to  her  at  all. 

Either  she  was  a  little  too  soon,  or  Tom  was  a  little  too 
late — she  was  so  precise  in  general,  that  she  timed  it  to  half 
a  minute — but  no  Tom  was  there.  Well!  But  was  any  body 
else  there,  that  she  blushed  so  deeply  after  looking  round, 
and  tripped  off  down  the  steps,  with  such  unusual  expedition  ? 

Why,  the  fact  is,  that  Mr.  Westlock  was  passing  at  that 
moment.  The  Temple  is  a  public  thoroughfare  ;  they  may 
write  up  on  the  gates  that  it  is  not,  but  so  long  as  the  gates 
are  left  open  it  is,  and  will  be;  and  Mr.  Westlock  had  as 
good  a  right  to  be  there  as  any  body  else.  But  why  did  she 
run  away,  then  ?  Not  being  ill  dressed,  for  she  was  much 
too  neat  for  that,  why  did  she  run  away  ?  The  brown  hair 
that  had  fallen  down  beneath  her  bonnet,  and  had  one  imperti- 
nent imp  of  a  false  flower  clinging  to  it,  boastful  of  its 
license  before  all  men,  that  could  not  have  been  the  cause, 
for  it  looked  charming.  Oh  !  foolish,  panting,  frightened 
little  heart,  why  did  she  run  away  ! 

Merrily  the  tiny  fountain  played,  and  merrily  the  dimples 
sparkled  on  its  sunny  face.  John  Westlock  hurried  after 
her.  Softly  the  whispering  water  broke  and  fell  ;  and 
roguishly  the  dimples  twinkled,  as  he  stole  upon  her  foot- 
steps. 

Oh,  foolish,  panting,  timid  little  heart,  why  did  she  feign 
to  be  unconscious  of  his  coming  !  Why  wish  herself  so  far 
away,  yet  be  so  flutteringly  happy  there  ! 

"  I  felt  sure  it  was  you,"  said  John,  when  he  overtook 
her,  in  the  sanctuary  of  Garden  Court.  '*  I  knew  I  couldn't 
be  mistaken." 

She  was  so  surprised. 

*'  You  are  waiting  for  your  brother,"  said  John.  "  Let  me 
bear  you  company." 

So  light  was  the  touch  of  the  coy  little  hand,  that  he 
glanced  down  to  assure  himself  he  had  it  on  his  arm.  But 
his  glance,  stopping  for  an  instant  at  the  bright  eyes,  forgot 
its  first  design  and  went  no  further. 

They  walked  up  and  down  three  or  four  times,  speaking 
about  Tom  and  his  mysterious  employment.  Now  that  was 
a  very  natural  and  innocent  subject,  surely.  Then  why,  when- 
ever Ruth  lifted  up  her  eyes,  did  she  let  them  fall  again 
immediately,  and  seek  the  uncongenial  pavement  of  the 
court  ?     They  were   not  such  eyes  as  shun  the  light;  they 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  083 

were  not  such  eyes  as  require  to  be  hoarded  to  enhance  their 
value.  They  were  much  too  precious  and  too  genuine  to 
stand  in  need  of  arts  like  those.  Somebody  must  have  been 
looking  at  them  ! 

They  found  out  Tom,  though,  quickly  enough.  This  pair 
of  eyes  descried  him  in  the  distance,  the  moment  he  appeared. 
He  was  staring  about  him,  as  usual,  in  all  directions  but  the 
right  one;  and  was  as  obstinate  in  not  looking  toward  them, 
as  if  he  had  intended  it.  As  it  was  plain  that,  being  left  to 
himself,  he  would  walk  away  home,  JohnWestlock  darted  off 
to  stop  him. 

This  made  the  approach  of  poor  little  Ruth,  by  herself, 
one  of  the  most  embarrassing  of  circumstances.  There  was 
Tom,  manifesting  extreme  surprise  (he  had  no  presence  of 
mind,  that  Tom,  on  small  occasions);  there  was  John,  making 
as  light  of  it  as  he  could,  but  explaining  at  the  same  time, 
with  most  unnecessary  elaboration;  and  here  was  she,  coming 
toward  them,  with  both  of  them  looking  at  her,  conscious  of 
blushing  to  a  terrible  extent,  but  trying  to  throw  up  her  eye- 
brows carelessly,  and  pout  her  rosy  lips,  as  if  she  were  the 
coolest  and  most  unconcerned  of  little  women. 

Merrily  the  fountain  plashed  and  plashed,  until  the  dim- 
ples, merging  into  one  another,  swelled  into  a  general  smile 
that  covered  the  whole  surface  of  the  basin. 

'*  What  an  extraordinary  meeting  !  "  said  Tom.  "  I 
should  never  have  dreamed  of  seeing  you  two  together 
here." 

"  Quite  accidental,"  John  was  heard  to  murmur. 

"  Exactly,"  cried  Tom,  "  that's  what  I  mean,  you  know. 
If  it  wasn't  accidental,  there  would  be  nothing  remarkable  in 
It. 

**  To  be  sure,"  said  John. 

^*  Such  an  out-of-the-way  place  for  you  to  have  met  in," 
pursued  Tom,  quite  delighted.     "  Such  an  unlikely  spot  !  " 

John  rather  disputed  that.  On  the  contrary,  he  consid- 
ered it  a  very  likely  spot,  indeed.  He  was  constantly  pass- 
ing to  and  fro  there,  he  said.  He  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were 
to  happen  again.  His  only  wonder  was,  that  it  had  never 
happened  before. 

By  this  time  Ruth  had  got  round  on  the  further  side  of 
her  brother,  and  had  taken  his  arm.  She  was  squeezing  it 
now,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Are  you  going  to  stop  here  all  day, 
you  dear,  old  blundering  Tom  ? " 

Tom   answered  the  squeeze  as  if  it  had  been  a  speech. 


654  MARTJN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  John/'  he  said,  "if  you'll  give  my  sister  your  arm,  we'll 
take  her  between  us,  and  walk  on.  I  have  a  curious  circum- 
stance to  relate  to  you.  Our  meeting  could  not  have  hap- 
pened better." 

Merrily  the  fountain  leaped  and  danced,  and  merrily 
the  smiling  dimples  twinkled  and  expanded  more  and  more, 
until  they  broke  into  a  laugh  against  the  basin's  rim,  and 
vanished. 

"  Tom,"  said  his  friend,  as  they  turned  into  the  noisy  street, 
''  I  have  a  proposition  to  make.  It  is,  that  you  and  your  sis- 
ter— if  she  will  so  far  honor  a  poor  bachelor's  dwelling — give 
me  a  great  pleasure,  and  come  and  dine  with  me." 

"  What,  to-day  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Yes,  to-day.  It's  close  by,  you  know.  Pray,Miss  Pinch, 
insist  upon  it.  It  will  be  very  disinterested,  for  I  have  noth- 
ing to  give  you." 

*'  Oh  I  you  must  not  believe  that,  Ruth,"  said  Tom.  "  He 
is  the  most  tremendous  fellow,  in  his  housekeeping,  that  I 
ever  heard  of,  for  a  single  man.  He  ought  to  be  lord  mayor. 
Well  !  what  do  you  say  ?     Shall  we  go  ?  " 

*'  If  you  please,  Tom,"  rejoined  his  dutiful  little  sister. 

"  But  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  regarding  her  with  smiling 
admiration,  '*is  there  any  thing  you  ought  to  wear,  and  haven't 
got  ?  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  John:  she  may  not  be  able  to 
take  her  bonnet  off,  for  any  thing  I  can  tell." 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  laughing  at  this,  and  there  were 
divers  compliments  from  John  Westlock — not  compliments, 
/le  said  at  least  (and  really  he  was  right),  but  good,  plain, 
honest  truths,  which  no  one  could  deny.  Ruth  laughed, 
and  all  that,  but  she  made  no  objection  ;  so  it  was  an  engage- 
ment. 

"  If  I  had  known  it  a  little  sooner,"  said  John,  *'  I  would 
have  tried  another  pudding.  Not  in  rivalry  ;  but  merely  to 
exalt  that  famous  one.  I  wouldn't  on  any  account  have  had 
it  made  with  suet." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Because  that  cookery-book  advises  suet,"  said  John 
Westlock  ;  ''  and  ours  was  made  with  flour  and  eggs." 

"  Oh  good  gracious  !  "  cried  Tom.  *'  Ours  was  made  with 
flour  and  eggs,  was  it  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  A  beefsteak  pud- 
ding made  with  flour  and  eggs  !  Why  any  body  knows 
better  than  that.  /  know  better  than  that  !  Ha,  ha, 
ha!" 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  Tom  had  been  preseat  at  the 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  685 

making  of  the  pudding,  and  had  been  a  devoted  believer  in 
it  all  through.  But  he  was  so  delighted  to  have  this  joke 
against  his  busy  little  sister,  and  was  tickled  to  that  degree 
at  having  found  her  out,  that  he  stopped  in  Temple  Bar  to 
laugh  ;  and  it  was  no  more  to  Tom,  that  he  was  anathema- 
tized and  knocked  about  by  the  surly  passengers,  than  it 
would  have  been  to  a  post  ;  for  he  continued  to  exclaim 
with  unabated  good-humor,  "  flour  and  eggs  I  A  beefsteak 
pudding  made  with  flour  and  eggs  !  "  until  John  Westlock 
and  his  sister  fairly  ran  away  from  him,  and  left  him  to  have 
his  laugh  out  by  himself  ;  which  he  had  ;  and  then  came 
dodging  across  the  crowded  street  to  them,  with  such  sweet 
temper  and  tenderness  (it  was  quite  a  tender  joke  of  Tom's) 
beaming  in  his  face,  God  bless  it,  that  it  might  have  purified 
the  air,  though  Temple  Bar  had  been,  as  in  the  golden 
days  gone  by,  embellished  with  a  row  of  rotting  human 
heads. 

There  are  snug  chambers  in  those  inns  where  the  bache- 
lors live,  and,  for  the  desolate  fellows  they  pretend  to  be,  it 
is  quite  surprising  how  well  they  get  on.  John  was  very 
pathetic  on  the  subject  of  his  dreary  life,  and  the  deplorable 
makeshifts  and  apologetic  contrivances  it  involved  ;  but  he 
really  seemed  to  make  himself  pretty  comfortable.  His 
rooms  were  the  perfection  of  neatness  and  convenience  at 
any  rate  ;  and  if  he  were  any  thing  but  com'^ortable,  the  fault 
was  certainly  not  theirs. 

He  had  no  sooner  ushered  Tom  and  his  sister  into  his 
best  room  (where  there  was  a  beautiful  little  vase  of  fresh 
flowers  on  the  table,  all  ready  for  Ruth.  Just  as  if  he  had 
expected  her,  Tom  said),  than  seizing  his  hat,  he  bustled  out 
again,  in  his  most  energetically  bustling  way  ;  and  presently 
came  hurrying  back,  as  they  saw  through  the  half-opened 
door,  attended  by  a  fiery-faced  matron  attired  in  a  crunched 
bonnet;  with  particularly  long  strings  to  it  hanging  down  her 
back  ;  in  conjunction  with  whom,  he  instantly  began  to  lay 
the  cloth  for  dinner,  polishing  up  the  wine-glasses  with  his 
own  hands,  brightening  the  silver  top  of  the  pepper-caster 
on  his  coat-sleeve,  drawing  corks  and  filling  decanters,  with 
a  skill  and  expedition  that  were  quite  dazzling.  And  as  if, 
in  the  course  of  this  rubbing  and  polishing,  he  had  rubbed 
an  enchanted  lamp  or  a  magic  ring,  obedient  to  which  there 
were  twenty  thousand  supernatural  slaves  at  least,  suddenly 
there  appeared  a  being  in  a  white  waistcoat,  carrying  under 
his  arm  a  napkin,  and  attended  by  another  being  with  an 


686  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

oblong  box  upon  his  head,  from  which  a  banquet,  piping 
hot,  was  taken  out  and  set  upon  the  table. 

Salmon,  lamb,  peas,  innocent  young  potatoes,  a  cool  salad, 
sliced  cucumber,  a  tender  duckling,  and  a  tart — all  there. 
They  all  came  at  the  right  time.  Where  they  came  from, 
didn't  appear  ;  but  the  oblong  box  was  constantly  going  and 
coming,  and  making  its  arrival  known  to  the  man  in  the 
white  waistcoat  by  bumping  modestly  against  the  outside  of 
the  door;  for  after  its  first  appearance,  it  entered  the  room  no 
more.  He  was  never  surprised,  this  man  :  he  never  seemed 
to  wonder  at  the  extraordinary  things  he  found  in  the  box  ; 
but  took  them  out  with  a  face  expressive  of  a  steady  purpose 
and  impenetrable  character,  and  put  them  on  the  table.  He 
was  a  kind  man  ;  gentle  in  his  manners,  and  much  interested 
in  what  they  ate  and  drank.  He  was  a  learned  man,  and 
knew  the  flavor  of  John  Westlock's  private  sauces,  which  he 
softly  and  feelingly  described,  as  he  handed  the  little  bottles 
round.  He  was  a  grave  man,  and  a  noiseless  ;  for  dinner 
being  done,  and  wine  and  fruit  arranged  upon  the  board,  he 
vanished,  box  and  all,  like  something  that  had  never 
been. 

"  Didn't  I  say  he  was  a  tremendous  fellow  in  his  house- 
keeping ? "  cried  Tom.     ''  Bless  my  soul  !     It's  wonderful." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Pinch,"  said  John.  ^'  This  is  the  bright  side 
of  the  life  we  lead  in  such  a  place.  It  would  be  a  dismal 
life,  indeed,  if  it  didn't  brighten  up  to-day." 

*'  Don't  believe  a  word  he  says,"  cried  Tom.  "  He  lives 
here  like  a  monarch,  and  wouldn't  change  his  mode  of  life 
for  any  consideration.     He  only  pretends  to  grumble." 

No,  John  really  did  not  appear  to  pretend;  for  he  was  un- 
commonly earnest  in  his  desire  to  have  it  understood  that  he 
was  as  dull,  solitary,  and  uncomfortable  on  ordinary  occa- 
sions as  an  unfortunate  young  man  could,  in  reason,  be.  It 
was  a  wretched  life,  he  said;  a  miserable  life.  He  thouglit 
of  getting  rid  of  the  chambers  as  soon  as  possible;  and 
meant,  in  fact,  to  put  a  bill  up  very  shortly. 

"  Well  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  "  I  don't  know  where  you  can 
go,  John,  to  be  more  comfortable.  That's  all  I  can  say. 
What  do  you  say,  Ruth  ?  " 

Ruth  trifled  with  the  cherries  on  her  plate,  and  said  that 
she  thought  Mr.  Westlock  ought  to  be  quite  happy,  and  that 
she  had  no  doubt  he  was. 

Ah,  foolish,  panting,  frightened  little  heart,  how  timidly 
she  said  it ! 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT,  687 

"  But  you  are  forgetting  what  you  have  to  tell,  Tom;  what 
occurred  this  morning,"  she  added  in  the  same  breath. 

"  So  I  am,"  said  Tom.  "  We  have  been  so  talkative  on 
other  topics,  that  I  declare  I  have  not  had  time  to  think  of 
it.  I'll  tell  it  you  at  once,  John,  in  case  I  should  forget  it 
altogether." 

On  Tom's  relating  what  had  passed  upon  the  wharf,  his 
friend  was  very  much  surprised,  and  took  such  a  great  inter- 
est in  the  narrative  as  Tom  could  not  quite  understand.  He 
believed  he  knew  the  old  lady  whose  acquaintance  they  had 
made,  he  said;  and  that  he  might  venture  to  say,  from  their 
description  of  her,  that  her  name  was  Gamp.  But  of  what 
nature  the  communication  could  have  been  which  Tom  had 
borne  so  unexpectedly;  why  its  delivery  had  been  intrusted 
to  him;  how  it  happened  that  the  parties  were  involved  to- 
gether; and  what  secret  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair; 
perplexed  him  very  much.  Tom  had  been  sure  of  his  taking 
some  interest  in  the  matter;  but  was  not  prepared  for  the 
strong  interest  he  showed.  It  held  John  Westlock  to  the 
subject,  even  after  Ruth  had  left  the  room  ;  and  evidently 
made  him  anxious  to  pursue  it  further  than  as  a  mere  subject 
of  conversation. 

"  I  shall  remonstrate  with  my  landlord,  of  course,"  said 
Tom;  "  though  he  is  a  very  singular,  secret  sort  of  man,  and 
not  likely  to  afford  me  much  satisfaction;  even  if  he  knew 
what  was  in  the  letter." 

"  Which  you  may  swear  he  did,"  John  interposed. 

"  You  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  of  it." 

"  Well  !  "  said  Tom,  ''  I  shall  remonstrate  with  him  when 
I  see  him  (he  goes  in  and  out  in  a  strange  way,  but  I  will  try 
to  catch  him  to-morrow  morning),  on  his  having  asked  me  to 
execute  such  an  unpleasant  commission.  And  I  have  been 
thinking,  John,  that  if  I  went  down  to  Mrs.  What's-her- 
name's  in  the  city,  where  I  was  before,  you  know — Mrs. 
Todgers's — to-morrow  morning,  I  might  find  poor  Mercy 
Pecksniff  there,  perhaps,  and  be  able  to  explain  to  her  how  I 
came  to  have  any  hand  in  the  business." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  Tom,"  returned  his  friend,  after 
a  short  interval  of  reflection.  "  You  can  not  do  better.  It  is 
quite  clear  to  me  that  whatever  the  business  is,  there  is  little 
good  in  it;  and  it  is  so  desirable  for  you  to  disentangle  your- 
self from  any  appearance  of  willful  connection  with  it,  that  I 
would  counsel  you  to  see  her  husband,  if  you  can,  and  wash 


05S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 

your  hands  of  it  by  a  plain  statement  of  the  facts.  I  have  a 
misgiving  that  there  is  something  dark  at  work  here,  Tom.  1 
will  tell  you  why,  at  another  time;  when  I  have  made  an  in- 
quiry or  two  myself." 

All  this  sounded  very  mysterious  to  Tom  Pinch.  But  as 
he  knew  he  could  rely  upon  his  friend,  he  resolved  to  follow 
this  advice. 

Ah,  but  it  would  have  been  a  good  thing  to  have  had  a 
coat  of  invisibility,  wherein  to  have  watched  little  Ruth,  when 
she  was  left  to  herself  in  John  Westlock's  chambers,  and 
John  and  her  brother  were  talking  thus,  over  their  wine  ! 
The  gentle  way  in  which  she  tried  to  get  up  a  little  conversa- 
tion with  the  fiery-faced  matron  in  the  crunched  bonnet,  who 
was  waiting  to  attend  her;  after  making  a  desperate  rally  in 
regard  of  her  dress  and  attiring  herself  in  a  washed-out  yellow 
gown  with  sprigs  of  the  same  upon  it,  so  that  it  looked  like 
a  tesselated  work  of  pats  of  butter.  That  would  have  been 
pleasant.  The  grim  and  griffin-like  inflexibility  with  which  the 
fiery-faced  matron  repelled  these  engaging  advances,  as  pro- 
ceeding from  a  hostile  and  dangerous  power,  who  could  have 
no  business  there,  unless  it  were  to  deprive  her  of  a  customer, 
or  suggest  what  became  of  the  self-consuming  tea  and  sugar, 
and  other  general  trifles.  That  would  have  been  agreeable. 
The  bashful,  winning,  glorious  curiosity,  with  which  little 
Ruth,  when  fiery-face  was  gone,  peeped  into  the  books  and 
nick-nacks  that  were  lying  about,  and  had  a  particular  inter- 
est in  some  delicate  paper-matches  on  the  chimney-piece  ; 
wondering  who  could  have  made  them.  That  would  have 
been  worth  seeing.  The  faltering  hand  with  which  she  tied 
those  flowers  together  ;  with  which,  almost  blushing  at  her 
own  fair  self  as  imaged  in  the  glass,  she  arranged  them  in 
her  breast,  and  looking  at  them  with  her  head  aside,  now 
half  resolved  to  take  them  out  again,  now  half  resolved  to 
leave  them  where  they  were.  That  would  have  been  delight- 
ful ! 

John  seemed  to  think  it  all  delightful  :  for  coming  in  with 
Tom  to  tea,  he  took  his  seat  beside  her  like  a  man  enchanted. 
And  when  the  tea-service  had  been  removed,  and  Tom,  sit- 
ting down  at  the  piano,  became  absorbed  in  some  of  his  old 
organ  tunes,  he  was  still  beside  her  at  the  open  window,  look- 
ing out  upon  the  twilight. 

There  is  little  enough  to  see,  in  Furnival's  Inn.  It  is  a 
shady,  quiet  place,  echoing  to  the  footsteps  of  the  stragglers 
who  have  business  there  ;  and  rather  monotonous  and  gloomy 


MARTIxH  CHUZZLEWIT.  689 

on  summer  evenings.  What  gave  it  such  a  charm  to  them, 
that  they  remained  at  the  window  as  unconscious  of  the  flight 
of  time  as  Tom  himself,  the  dreamer,  while  the  melodies 
Avhich  had  so  often  soothed  his  spirit  were  hovering  again 
about  him  !  What  power  infused  into  the  fading  light,  the 
gathering  darkness  ;  the  stars  that  here  and  there  appeared  ; 
the  evening  air,  the  city's  hum  and  stir,  the  very  chiming  of 
the  old  church  clocks  ;  such  exquisite  enthralment,  that  the 
divinest  regions  of  the  earth  spread  out  before  their  eyes 
could  not  have  held  them  captive  in  a  stronger  chain  "* 

The  shadows  deepened,  deepened,  and  the  room  became 
quite  dark.  Still  Tom's  fingers  wandered  over  the  keys  of 
the  piano  ;  and  still  the  window  had  its  pair  of  tenants. 

At  length,  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  her  breath 
upon  his  forehead,  roused  Tom  from  his  reverie. 

**  Dear  me  !  "  he  cried,  desisting  with  a  start.  "  I  am 
afraid  I  have  been  very  inconsiderate  and  unpolite." 

Tom  little  thought  how  much  consideration  and  politeness 
he  had  shown  ! 

"  Sing  something  to  us,  my  dear,"  said  Tom.  "  Let  us 
hear  your  voice.     Come." 

John  Westlock  added  his  entreaties  with  such  earnestness 
that  a  flinty  heart  alone  could  have  resisted  them.  Hers  was 
not  a  flinty  heart.     Oh  dear  no  !     Quite  another  thing. 

So  down  she  sat,  and  in  a  pleasant  voice  began  to  sing  the 
ballads  Tom  loved  well.  Old  rhyming  stories,  with  here 
and  there  a  pause  for  a  few  simple  chords,  such  as  a  harper 
might  have  sounded  in  the  ancient  time  while  looking  upward 
for  the  current  of  some  half-remembered  legend  ;  words  of 
old  poets,  wedded  to  such  measures  that  the  strain  of  music 
might  have  been  the  poet's  breath,  giving  utterance  and 
expression  to  his  thoughts  ;  and  now  a  melody  so  joyous  and 
light-hearted,  that  the  singer  seemed  incapable  of  sadness, 
until  in  her  inconstancy  (oh  wicked  little  singer  !)  she 
relapsed  and  broke  the  listeners'  hearts  again  ;  these  were 
the  simple  means  she  used  to  please  them.  And  that  these 
simple  means  prevailed,  and  she  ^/^  please  them,  let  the  still 
darkened  chamber,  and  its  long-deferred  illumination  witness. 

The  candles  came  at  last,  and  it  was  time  for  moving 
homeward.  Cutting  paper  carefully,  and  rolling  it  about  the 
stalks  of  those  same  flowers,  occasioned  some  delay  ;  but 
even  this  was  done  in  time,  and  Ruth  was  ready. 

"  Good-night  !  "  said  Tom.  "  A  memorable  and  delight- 
ful visit,  John  !     Good-night  !  " 


690  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

John  thought  he  would  walk  with  them. 

*'  No,  no.  Don't  !  "  said  Tom.  "What  nonsense  !  We 
can  get  home  very  well  alone.  I  couldn't  think  of  taking 
you  out." 

But  John  said  he  would  rather. 

''  Are  you  sure  you  would  rather  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  I  am 
afraid  you  only  say  so  out  of  politeness." 

John  being  quite  sure,  gave  his  arm  to  Ruth,  and  led  her 
out.  Fiery-face,  who  was  again  in  attendance,  acknowledged 
her  departure  with  so  cold  a  courtesy  that  it  was  hardly  visi- 
ble ;  and  cut  Tom,  dead. 

Their  host  was  bent  on  walking  the  whole  distance,  and 
would  not  listen  to  Tom's  dissuasions.  Happy  time,  happy 
walk,  happy  parting,  happy  dreams  !  But  there  are  some 
sweet  day-dreams,  so  there  are,  that  put  the  visions  of  the 
night  to  shame. 

Busily  the  Temple  fountain  murmured  in  the  moonlight, 
while  Ruth  lay  sleeping,  with  her  flowers  beside  her  ;  and 
John  Westlock  sketched  a  portrait — whose  ?— from  memory. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

IN    WHICH    MISS   PECKSNIFF    MAKES    LOVE,    MR.    JONAS  MAKES 
WRATH,  MRS.  GAMP    MAKES    TEA,  AND    MR.  CHUFFEY  MAKES 

BUSINESS. 

On  the  next  day's  official  duties  coming  to  a  close,  Tom 
hurried  home  without  losing  any  time  by  the  way  ;  and 
after  dinner  and  a  short  rest,  sallied  out  again,  accompanied 
by  Ruth,  to  pay  his  projected  visit  to  Todgers's.  Tom  took 
Ruth  with  him,  not  only  because  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to 
him  to  have  her  for  his  companion  whenever  he  could,  but 
because  he  wished  her  to  cherish  and  comfort  poor  Merry  ; 
which  she,  for  her  own  part  (having  heard  the  wretched  his- 
tory of  that  young  wife  from  Tom),  was  all  eagerness  to  do. 

"  She  was  so  glad  to  see  me,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  sure 
she  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Your  sympathy  is  certain  to 
be  much  more  delicate  and  acceptable  than  mine." 

"  I  am  very  far  from  being  certain  of  that,  Tom."  she 
replied  ;  "and  indeed  you  do  yourself  an  injustice.  Indeed 
you  do.     But  I  hope  she  may  like  me,  Tom." 

"  Oh,  she  is  sure  to  do  that  !  "  cried  Tom,  confidently. 

**  What  a  number  of  friends  I  should  have,  if  every  body 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWir.  691 

was  of  your  way  of  thinking.     Shouldn't   I,  Tom,  dear  ? " 
said  his  little  sister,  pinching  him  upon  the  cheek. 

Tom  laughed,  and  said  that  with  reference  to  this  particular 
case  he  had  no  doubt  at  all  of  finding  a  disciple  in  Merry. 
"  For  you  women,"  said  Tom,  *'  you  women,  my  dear,  are  so 
kind,  and  in  your  kindness  have  such  nice  perception  ;  you 
know  so  well  how  to  be  affectionate  and  full  of  solicitude 
without  appearing  to  be  ;  your  gentleness  of  feeling  is  like 
your  touch  :  so  light  and  easy,  that  the  one  enables  you  to 
deal  with  wounds  of  the  mind  as  tenderly  as  the  other  enables 
you  to  deal  with  wounds  of  the  body.     You  are  such " 

**  My  goodness,  Tom  !  "  his  sister  interposed.  "  You 
ought  to  fall  in  love  immediately." 

Tom  put  this  observation  off  good-humoredly,  but  some- 
what gravely  too  ;  and  they  were  soon  very  chatty  again  on 
some  other  subject. 

As  they  were  passing  through  a  street  in  the  City,  not 
very  far  from  Mrs.  Todgers's  place  of  residence,  Ruth 
checked  Tom  before  the  window  of  a  large  upholstery  and 
furniture  warehouse,  to  call  his  attention  to  something  very 
magnificent  and  ingenious,  displayed  there  to  the  best  advant- 
age, for  the  admiration  and  temptation  of  the  public.  Tom 
had  hazarded  some  most  erroneous  and  extravagantly  wrong 
guess  in  relation  to  the  price  of  this  article,  and  had  joined 
his  sister  in  laughing  heartily  at  his  mistake,  when  he  pressed 
her  arm  in  his,  and  pointed  to  two  persons  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, who  were  looking  in  at  the  same  window  with  a  deep 
interest  in  the  chests  of  drawers  and  tables. 

"  Hush  !  "  Tom  whispered.  "  Miss  Pecksniff,  and  the 
young  gentleman  to  whom  she  is  going  to  be  married." 

"  Why  does  he  look  as  if  he  was  going  to  be  buried,  Tom  ?'* 
inquired  his  little  sister. 

"  Why,  he  is  naturally  a  dismal  young  gentleman,  I 
believe,"  said  Tom  :  *'  but  he  is  very  civil  and  inoffensive." 

**  I  suppose  they  are  furnishing  their  house,"  whispered 
Ruth. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  they  are,"  replied  Tom.  *'  We  had  better 
avoid  speaking  to  them." 

They  could  not  very  well  avoid  looking  at  them,  however, 
especially  as  some  obstruction  on  the  pavement,  at  a  little 
distance,  happened  to  detain  them  where  they  were  for  a 
few  moments.  Miss  Pecksniff  had  quite  the  air  of  having 
taken  the  unhappy  Moddle  captive,  and  brought  him  up  to 
the  contemplation  of  the  furniture  like  a  Limb  to  the  altar. 


092  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

He  offered  no  resistance,  but  was  perfectly  resigned  and  quiet. 
The  melancholy  depicted  in  the  turn  of  his  languishing 
head,  and  in  his  dejected  attitude,  was  extreme  ;  and  though 
there  was  a  full-sized  four-post  bedstead  in  the  window, 
such  a  tear  stood  trembling  in  his  eye,  as  seemed  to  blot  it 
out. 

"  Augustus,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  ask  the  price 
of  the  eight  rose-wood  chairs,   and  the  loo-table." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  ordered  already,"  said  Augustus. 
*'  Perhaps  they  are  another's." 

"  They  can  make  more  like  them,  if  they  are,"  rejoined 
Miss  Pecksniff. 

''  No,  no,  they  can't,"  said  Moddle.     '*  It's  impossible  !  " 

He  appeared  for  the  moment,  to  be  quite  overwhelmed  and 
stupefied  by  the  prospect  of  his  approaching  happiness;  but 
recovering,  entered  the  shop.  He  returned  immediately  : 
saying  in  a  tone  of  despair  : 

"  Twenty-four  pound  ten  ! " 

Miss  Pecksniff,  turning  to  receive  this  announcement, 
became  conscious  of  the  observation  of  Tom  Pinch  and  his 
sister. 

"  Oh,  really  !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff^  glancing  about  her, 
as  if  for  some  convenient  means  of  sinking  into  the  earth. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I — there  never  was  such  a — to  think  that 
one  should  be  so  very — Mr.  Augustus  Moddle,  Miss  Pinch  !" 

Miss  Pecksniff  was  quite  gracious  to  Miss  Pinch  in  this 
triumphant  introduction;  exceedingly  gracious.  She  was 
more  than  gracious;  she  was  kind  and  cordial.  Whether  the 
recollection  of  the  old  service  Tom  had  rendered  her  in 
knocking  Mr.  Jonas  on  the  head,  had  wrought  this  change  in 
her  opinions;  or  whether  her  separation  from  her  parent  had 
reconciled  her  to  all  human-kind,  or  to  all  that  increasing 
portion  of  human-kind  which  was  not  friendly  to  him;  or 
whether  the  delight  of  having  some  new  female  acquaintance 
to  whom  to  communicate  her  interesting  prospects  was  para- 
mount to  every  other  consideration;  cordial  and  kind  Miss 
Pecksniff  was.  And  twice  Miss  Pecksniff  kissed  Miss  Pinch 
upon  the  cheek. 

"  Augustus — Mr.  Pinch,  you  know.  My  dear  girl  !  "  said 
Miss  Pecksniff,  aside.  *'  I  never  was  so  ashamed  in  my 
life." 

Ruth  begged  her  not  to  think  of  it. 

"  I  mind  your  brother  less  than  any  body  else,"  simpered 
Miss  Pecksniff.     "  But  the  indelicacy  of  meeting  any  gentle- 


IviARriiN   CHUZZLKWl'l'.  693 

man  under  such  circumstances  !     Augustus,  my  child,  did 
you " 

Here  Miss  Pecksniff  whispered  in  his  ear.  The  suffering 
Moddle  repeated: 

"  Twenty-four  pound  ten  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  silly  man  !  I  don't  mean  them,"  said  Miss 
Pecksniff.     "  I  am  speaking  of  the " 

Here  she  whispered  him  again. 

"  If  it's  the  same  patterned  chintz  as  that  in  the  window; 
thirty-two,  twelve,  six,"  said  Moddle,  with  a  sigh.  "  And 
very  dear." 

Miss  Pecksniff  stopped  him  from  giving  any  further  expla- 
nation by  laying  her  hand  upon  his  lips,  and  betraying  a  soft 
embarrassment.  She  then  asked  Tom  Pinch  which  way  he 
was  going. 

I  was  going  to  see  if  I  could  find  your  sister,"  answered 
Tom,  *'  to  whom  I  wished  to  say  a  few  words.  We  were  go- 
ing to  Mrs.  Todgers's,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her 
before." 

**  It's  of  no  use  your  going  on,  then,"  said  Cherry,  *'  for  we 
have  not  long  left  there  ;  and  I  know  she  is  not  at  home. 
But  I'll  take  you  to  my  sister's  house,  if  you  please.  Augus- 
tus— Mr.  Moddle,  I  mean — and  myself,  are  on  our  way  to 
tea  there,  now.  You  needn't  think  of  /;/;;/,"  she  added,  nod- 
ding her  head,  as  she  observed  some  hesitation  on  Tom's 
part.     "  He  is  not  at  home." 

"  Are  you  sure  } "  asked  Tom. 

'*  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that.  I  don't  want  any  more  re- 
venge," said  Miss  Pecksniff,  expressively.  "  But,  really,  I 
must  beg  you  two  gentlemen  to  walk  on,  and  allow  me  to 
follow  with  Miss  Pinch.  My  dear,  I  never  was  so  taken  by 
surprise  !  " 

In  furtherance  of  this  bashful  arrangement,  Moddle  gave 
his  arm  to  Tom;  and  Miss  Pecksniff  linked  her  own  in  Ruth's. 

"  Of  course,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  it  would  be 
useless  for  me  to  disguise,  after  what  you  have  seen,  that  I 
am  about  to  be  united  to  the  gentleman  who  is  walking  with 
your  brother.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  conceal  it.  What  do 
you  think  of  him  ?  Pray,  let  me  have  your  candid 
opinion." 

Ruth  intimated  that,  as  far  as  she  could  judge,  he  was  a 
very  eligible  swain. 

"  I  am  curious  to  know,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  lo- 
quacious frankness,  "  whether  you  have  observed,  or  fancied, 


694  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  this  very  short  space    of    time,   that   he   is  of    a  rather 
melancholy  turn  ?  " 

"  So  very  short  a  time,"  Ruth  pleaded. 

"  No,  no;  but  don't  let  that  interfere  with  your  answer," 
returned  Miss  Pecksniff.  **  1  am  curious  to  hear  what  you 
say." 

Ruth  acknowledged  that  he  had  impressed  her  at  first 
sight  as  looking  "  rather  low." 

"  No,  really  ?  "  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  Well  !  that  is  quite 
remarkable  !  Everybody  says  the  same  ;  Mrs.  Todgers  says 
the  same  ;  and  Augustus  informs  me  that  it  is  quite  a  joke 
among  the  gentlemen  in  the  house.  Indeed,  but  for  the  pos-. 
itive  commands  I  have  laid  upon  him,  I  believe  it  would  have 
been  the  occasion  of  loaded  fire-arms  being  resorted  to  more 
than  once.  What  do  you  think  is  the  cause  of  his  appearance 
of  depression  ?  " 

Ruth  thought  of  several  things  ;  such  as  his  digestion,  his 
tailor,  his  mother,  and  the  like.  But  hesitating  to  give  utter- 
ance to  any  of  them,  she  refrained  from  expressing  an 
opinion. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Miss  Pecksniif  ;  "  I  shouldn't  wish  it  to 
be  known,  but  I  don't  mind  mentioning  it  to  you,  having 
known  your  brother  for  so  many  years — I  refused  Augustus 
three  times.  He  is  of  a  most  amiable  and  sensitive 
nature  ;  always  ready  to  shed  tears,  if  you  look  at  him, 
which  is  extremely  charming  ;  and  he  has  never  recovered 
the  effect  of  that  cruelty.  For  it  was  cruel,"  said  Miss  Peck- 
sniff, with  a  self-convicting  candor  that  might  have  adorned 
the  diadem  of  her  own  papa.  "  There  is  no  doubt  of  it.  I 
look  back_ upon  my  conduct  now  with  blushes.  I  always 
liked  him.  1  felt  that  he  was  not  to  me  what  the  crowd 
of  young  men  who  made  proposals  had  been,  but  something 
very  different.  Then  what  right  had  I  to  refuse  him  three 
times?" 

*'  It  was  a  severe  trial  of  his  fidelity,  no  doubt,"  said  Ruth. 

"  My  dear,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  '*  it  was  wrong. 
But  such  is  the  caprice  and  thoughtlessness  of  our  sex  ! 
Let  me  be  a  warning  to  you.  Don't  try  the  feelings  of  any 
one  who  makes  you  an  offer,  as  I  have  tried  the  feelings  of 
Augustus  ;  but  if  you  ever  feel  toward  a  person  as  I  really 
felt  toward  him,  at  the  very  time  I  was  driving  him  to  dis- 
traction, let  that  feeling  find  expression,  if  that  person 
throws  himself  at  your  feet,  as  Augustus  Moddle  did  at 
mine.     Think,"    said  Miss    Pecksniff,    **  what    my   feelings 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  695 

would  have  been,  if  I  had  goaded  him  to  suicide,  and  it  had 
got  into  the  papers  !  " 

Ruth  observed  that  she  would  have  been  full  of  remorse, 
no  doubt. 

"  Remorse  !  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  in  a  sort  of  snug  and 
comfortable  penitence.  "  What  my  remorse  is  at  this  moment, 
even  after  making  reparation  by  accepting  him,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  tell  you  !  Looking  back  upon  my  giddy  self, 
my  dear,  now  that  I  am  sobered  down  and  made  thoughtful, 
by  treading  on  the  very  brink  of  matrimony  ;  and  contem- 
plating myself  as  I  was  when  I  was  like  you  are  now  ;  I  shud- 
der. I  shudder.  What  is  the  consequence  of  my  past  conduct  ? 
Until  Augustus  leads  me  to  the  altar  he  is  not  sure  of  me.  I 
have  blighted  and  withered  the  affections  of  his  heart  to 
that  extent  that  he  is  not  sure  of  me.  I  see  that  preying  on 
his  mind  and  feeding  on  his  vitals.  What  are  the  reproaches 
of  my  conscience,  when  I  see  this  in  the  man  I  love  !  " 

Ruth  endeavored  to  express  some  sense  of  her  unbounded 
and  flattering  confidence  ;  and  presumed  that  she  was  going 
to  be  married  soon. 

"  Very  soon  indeed,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  As  soon 
as  our  house  is  ready.  We  are  furnishing  now  as  fast  as 
we  can." 

In  the  same  vein  of  confidence.  Miss  Pecksniff  ran  through 
a  general  inventory  of  the  articles  that  were  already  bought, 
with  the  articles  that  remained  to  be  purchased  ;  what  gar- 
ments she  intended  to  be  married  in,  and  where  the  cere- 
mony was  to  be  performed  ;  and  gave  Miss  Pinch,  in  short 
(as  she  told  her),  early  and  exclusive  information  of  all 
points  of  interest  connected  with  the  event. 

While  this  was  going  forAvard  in  the  rear,  Tom  and  Mr. 
Moddle  walked  on  arm  in  arm,  in  the  front,  in  a  state  of 
profound  silence,  which  Tom  at  last  broke  :  after  thinking 
for  a  long  time  what  he  could  say  that  should  refer  to  an 
indifferent  topic,  in  respect  of  which  he  might  rely,  with 
some  degree  of  certainty,  on  Mr.  Moddle's  bosom  be- 
ing unruffled. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Tom,  **  that  in  these  crowded  streets, 
the  foot-passengers  are  not  oftener  run  over." 

Mr.  Moddle,  with  a  dark  look,  replied  : 

"  The  drivers  won't  do  it." 

**  Do  you  mean  ?  "     Tom  began — 

"  That  there  are  some  men,"  interrupted  Moddle,  with  a 
hollow  laugh,  "  who  can't  get  run  over.  They  live  a  charmed 


C96  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

life.  Coal  wagons  recoil  from  them,  and  even  cabs  refuse 
to  run  them  down.  Ah  !  "  said  Augustus,  marking  Tom's 
astonishment.  "  There  are  such  men.  One  of  'em  is  a 
friend  of  mine." 

"  Upon  my  word  and  honor,"  thought  Tom,  "  this  young 
gentleman  is  in  a  state  of  mind  which  is  very  serious  in- 
deed !  "  Abandoning  all  idea  of  conversation,  he  did  not 
venture  to  say  another  word  ;  but  he  was  careful  to  keep  a 
tight  hold  upon  Augustus's  arm,  lest  he  sh-  uld  fly  into  the 
road,  and  making  another,  and  a  more  successful  attempt, 
should  get  up  a  private  little  juggernaut  before  the  eyes  of 
his  betrothed.  Tom  was  so  afraid  of  his  committing  this 
rash  act,  that  he  had  scarcely  ever  experienced  such  mental 
relief  as  when  they  arrived  in  safety  at  Mrs.  Jonas  Chuzzle- 
wit's  house. 

''  Walk  up,  pray,  Mr,  Pinch,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff  :  for 
Tom  halted,  irresolutely,  at  the  door. 

"  I  am  doubtful  whether  I  should  be  welcome,"  replied 
Tom,  ''  or,  I  ought  rather  to  say,  I  have  no  doubt  about  it. 
I  will  send  up  a  message,  I  think." 

''  But  what  nonsense  that  is  !  "  returned  Miss  Pecksniff, 
speaking  apart  to  Tom.  *'  He  is  not  at  home,  I  am  certain; 
I  know  he  is  not;  and  Merry  hasn't  the  least  idea  that  you 
ever " 

"  No,"  interrupted  Tom.  "  Nor  would  I  have  her  know 
it,  on  any  account.  I  am  not  so  proud  of  that  scuffle,  I 
assure  you." 

*'  Ah,  but  then  you  are  so  modest,  you  see,"  returned  Miss 
Pecksniff,  with  a  smile.  "  But  pray  walk  up.  If  you  don't 
wish  her  to  know  it,  and  do  wish  to  speak  to  her,  pray  walk 
up.     Pray  walk  up,  Miss  Pinch.     Don't  stand  here." 

Tom  still  hesitated;  for  he  felt  that  he  was  in  an  awkward 
position.  But  Cherry  passing  him  at  this  juncture,  and  lead- 
ing his  sister  up  stairs,  and  the  house-door  being  at  the  same 
time  shut  behind  them,  he  followed  without  quite  knowing 
whether  it  was  well  or  ill-judged  so  to  do. 

"  Merry,  my  darling  !  "  said  the  fair  Miss  Pecksniff,  open- 
ing the  door  of  the  usual  sitting-room.  *'  Here  are  Mr.  Pinch 
and  his  sister  come  to  see  you  !  I  thought  we  should  find 
you  here,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Gamp  ? 
And  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Chuffey,  though  it's  of  no  use  ask- 
ing you  the  question,  I  am  well  aware." 

Honoring  each  of  these  parties,  as  she  severally  addressed 
them,  with  an  acid  smile,  Miss  Charity  presented  Mr.  Moddle 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  697 

"  I  believe  you  have  seen  him  before,"  she  pleasantly 
observed.  "  Augustus,  my  sweet  child,  bring  me  a 
chair." 

The  sweet  child  did  as  he  was  told;  and  was  then  about  to 
retire  into  a  corner  to  mourn  in  secret,  when  Miss  Charity, 
calling  him  in  an  audible  whisper  "  a  little  pet,"  gave  him 
leave  to  come  and  sit  beside  her.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  for  the 
general  cheerfulness  of  mankind,  that  such  a  doleful  little 
pet  was  never  seen  as  Mr.  Moddle  looked  when  he  complied. 
So  despondent  was  his  temper,  that  he  showed  no  outward 
thrill  of  ecstasy,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  placed  her  lily  hand 
in  his,  and  concealed  this  mark  of  her  favor  from  the  vulgar 
gaze,  by  covering  it  with  a  corner  of  her  shawl.  Indeed,  he 
was  infinitely  more  rueful  then  than  he  had  been  before;  and, 
sitting  uncomfortably  upright  in  his  chair,  surveyed  the 
company  with  watery  eyes,  which  seemed  to  say,  without  the 
aid  of  language,  "  Oh,  good  gracious  !  look  here  !  Won't 
some  kind  Christian  help  me  !  " 

But  the  ecstasies  of  Mrs.  Gamp  were  sufficient  to  have 
furnished  forth  a  score  of  young  lovers;  and  they  were 
chiefly  awakened  by  the  sight  of  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister. 
Mrs.  Gamp  was  a  lady  of  that  happy  temperament  which 
can  be  ecstatic  without  any  other  stimulating  cause  than  a 
general  desire  to  establish  a  large  and  profitable  connection. 
She  added  daily  so  many  strings  to  her  bow,  that  she  made  a 
perfect  harp  of  it  ;  and  upon  that  instrument  she  now  began 
to  perform  an  extemporaneous  concerto. 

^'  Why,  goodness  me  !  "  she  said,  **  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit  !  To 
think  as  I  should  see  beneath  this  blessed  ouse,  which  well  I 
know  it.  Miss  Pecksniff,  my  sweet  young  lady,  to  be  a  ouse 
as  there  is  not  a  many  like,  worse  luck,  and  wishin'  it  ware 
not  so,  which  then  this  tearful  walley  would  be  changed  into 
a  flowerin'  guardian,  Mr.  Chuffey;  to  think  as  I  should  see 
beneath  this  indiwidgle  roof,  identically  comin',  Mr.  Pinch 
(I  take  the  liberty,  though  almost  unbeknown),  and  do  assure 
you  of  it,  sir,  the  smilinest  and  sweetest  face  as  ever,  Mrs. 
Chuzzlewit,  I  see,  exceptin'  yourn,  my  dear  good  lady,  and 
your  good  lady's  too,  sir,  Mr.  Moddle,  if  I  may  make  so  bold 
as  speak  so  plain  of  what  is  plain  enough  to  them  as  needn't 
look  through  millstones,  Mrs.  Todgers,  to  find  out  wot  is 
wrote  UDon  the  wall  behind.  Which  no  offense  is  meant, 
ladies  and  gentlemen;  none  bein'  took,  I  hope.  To  think  as 
1  should  see  that  smilinest  and  sweetest  face  which  me  and 
another    friend  of  mine  took   notige  of  among  the  pack- 


698  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ages  down  London  Bridge,  in  this  promiscous  place,  is  a  sur- 
prige  in-deed  !  " 

Having  contrived,  in  this  happy  manner,  to  invest  every 
member  of  her  audience  with  an  individual  share  and  imme- 
diate personal  interest  in  her  address,  Mrs.  Gamp  dropped 
several  courtesies  to  Ruth,  and  smilingly  shaking  her  head  a 
great  many  times,  pursued  the  thread  of  her  discourse  : 

''  Now,  ain't  we  rich  in  beauty  this  here  joyful  afternoon, 
I'm  sure.  I  knows  a  lady,  which  her  name,  I'll  not  deceive 
you,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  is  Harris,  her  husband's  brother  bein' 
six  foot  three,  and  marked  with  a  mad  bull  in  Wellington 
boots  upon  his  left  arm,  on  account  of  his  precious  mother 
havin'  been  worrited  by  one  into  a  shoemaker's  shop,  when 
in  a  sitiwation  which  blessed  is  the  man  as  has  his  quiver 
full  of  sech,  as  many  times  I've  said  to  Gamp  when  words  has 
roge  betwixt  us  on  account  of  the  expense — and  often  have  I 
said  to  Mrs.  Harris,  *  Oh,  Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am  J  your  counte- 
nance is  quite  a  angel's  !  '  Which,  but  for  pimples,  it  would 
be.  '  No,  Sairey  Gamp,"  says  she,  *you  best  of  hard-work- 
ing and  industrious  creeturs  as  ever  was  underpaid  at  any 
price,  which  underpaid  you  are,  quite  diff'rent.  Harris  had 
it  done  afore  marriage  at  ten  and  six,*  she  says,  '  and  wore 
it  faithful  next  his  heart  'till  the  color  run,  when  the  money 
was  declined  to  be  give  back,  and  no  arrangement  could  be 
come  to.  But  we  never  said  it  was  a  angel's,  Sairey,  wotever 
lie  might  have  thought.'  If  Mrs.  Harris's  husband  was  here 
now,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  looking  round,  and  chuckling  as  she 
dropped  a  general  courtesy,  "  he'd  speak  out  plain,  he 
would,  and  his  dear  wife  would  be  the  last  to  blame  him  ! 
For  if  ever  a  woman  lived  as  know'd  not  wot  it  was  to  form 
a  wish  to  pizen  them  as  had  good  looks,  and  had  no  reagion 
give  her  by  the  best  of  husbands,  Mrs.  Harris  is  that  ev'nly 
dispogician  !  " 

With  these  words  the  worthy  woman,  who  appeared  to 
have  dropped  in  to  take  tea  as  a  delicate  little  attention, 
rather  than  to  have  any  engagement  on  the  premises  in  an 
official  capacity,  crossed  to  Mr.  Chuffey,  who  was  seated  in 
the  same  corner  as  of  old,  and  shook   him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Rouge  yourself,  and  look  up  !  Come  I  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Here's  company,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

*'  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  humbly 
round  the  room.  **  I  know  I'm  in  the  way.  1  ask  pa. don, 
but  I've  nowhere  else  to  go.     Where  is  she  ? " 

Merry  went  to  him. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWiT.  699 

"Ah!"  said  the  old  man,  patting  her  on  the  cheek. 
**  Here  she  is.  Here  she  is  I  She's  never  hard  on  poor  old 
Chuffey.     Poor  old  Chuff  !  " 

As  she  took  her  seat  upon  a  low  chair  by  the  old  man's 
side,  and  put  herself  within  the  reach  of  his  hand,  she 
looked  up  once  at  Tom.  It  was  a  sad  look  that  she  cast 
upon  him,  though  there  was  a  faint  smile  trembling  on  her 
face.  It  was  a  speaking  look,  and  Tom  knew  what  it  said. 
**  You  see  how  misery  has  changed  me.  I  can  feel  for  a 
dependent  nozu,  and  set  some' value  on  his  attachment." 

*'  Ay,  ay  !  "  cried  Chuffey  in  a  soothing  tone.  '*  Ay,  ay, 
ay  !  Never  mind  him.  It's  hard  to  bear,  but  never  mind 
him.  He'll  die  one  day.  There  are  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days  in  the  year — three  hundred  and  sixty-six  in 
leap  year — and  he  may  die  on  any  one  of  'em." 

"  You're  a  wearing  old  soul,  and  that's  the  sacred  truth," 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  contemplating  him  from  a  little  distance 
with  any  thing  but  favor,  as  he  continued  to  mutter  to  him- 
self. "  It's  a  pity  that  you  don't  know  wot  you  say,  for  you'd 
tire  your  own  patience  out  if  you  did,  and  fret  yourself  into 
a  happy  releague  for  all  as  knows  you." 

"  His  son  !  "  murmured  the  old  man  lifting  up  his  hand. 
''  His  son  !  " 

"  Well  I'm  sure  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  you're  a  settlin'  of 
it,  Mr.  Chuffey.  To  your  satigefaction,  sir,  I  hope.  But  I 
wouldn't  lay  a  new  pin-cushion  on  it  myself,  sir,  though  you 
are  so  well  informed.  Drat  the  old  creetur,  he's  a  layin' 
down  the  law  tolerable  confident,  too  !  A  deal  he  knows  of 
sons  !  Or  darters  either  !  Suppose  you  was  to  favor  us 
with  some  remarks  on  twins,  sir,  would  you  be  so  good  !  " 

The  bitter  and  indignant  sarcasm  which  Mrs.  Gamp  con- 
veyed into  these  taunts  was  altogether  lost  on  the  uncon- 
scious Chuffey,  who  appeared  to  be  as  little  cognizant  of 
their  delivery  as  of  his  having  given  Mrs.  Gamp  offense. 
But  that  high-minded  woman  being  sensitively  alive  to  any 
invasion  of  her  professional  province,  and  imagining  that 
Mr.  Chuffey  had  given  utterance  to  some  prediction  on  the 
subject  of  sons,  which  ought  to  have  emanated  in  the  first 
instance  from  herself  as  the  only  lawful  authority,  or  which 
should  at  least  have  been  on  no  account  proclaimed  without 
her  sanction  and  concurrence,  was  not  so  easily  appeased. 
She  continued  to  sidle  at  Mr.  Chuffey  with  looks  of  sharp 
hostility,  and  to  defy  him  with  many  other  ironical  remarks, 
uttered  in  that  low  key  which  commonly  denotes  suppressed 


700 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWrr. 


indignation  ;  until  the  entrance  of  the  tea-board,  and  a 
request  from  Mrs.  Jonas  that  she  would  make  tea  at  a  side- 
table  for  the  party  that  had  unexpectedly  assembled, 
restored  her  to  herself.  She  smiled  again,  and  entered  on 
her  ministration  with  her  own  particular  urbanity. 

*'  And  quite  a  family  it  is  to  make  tea  for,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp  ;  "  and  wot  a  happiness  to  do  it  !  My  good  young 
'ooman  " — to  the  servant  girl — "  p'raps  somebody  would  like 
to  try  a  new-laid  egg  or  two,  not  biled  too  hard.  Likeways, 
a  few  rounds  o'  buttered  toast,  first  cuttin'  off  the  crust,  in 
consequence  of  tender  teeth,  and  not  too  many  of  'em  ;  which 
Gamp  himself,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  at  one  blow,  being  in  liquor, 
struck  out  four,  two  single,  and  two  double,  as  was  took  by 
Mrs.  Harris  for  a  keepsake,  and  is  carried  in  her  pocket  at 
this  present  hour,  along  with  two  cramp-bones,  a  bit  o'  ginger, 
and  a  grater  like  a  blessed  infant's  shoe,  in  tin,  with  a  little 
heel  to  put  the  nutmeg  in  ;  as  many  times  I've  seen  and 
said,  and  used  for  caudel  when  required,  within  the  month." 

As  the  privileges  of  the  side-table — besides  including  the 
small  prerogatives  of  sitting  next  the  toast,  and  taking  two 
cups  of  tea  to  other  people's  one,  and  always  taking  them 
at  a  crisis,  that  is  to  say,  before  putting  fresh  water  into  the 
tea-pot,  and  after  it  had  been  standing  for  some  time — also 
comprehended  a  full  view  of  the  company,  and  an  oppor- 
tunity of  addressing  them  as  from  a  rostrum,  Mrs.  Gamp 
discharged  the  functions  intrusted  to  her  with  extreme 
good-humor  and  affability.  Sometimes,  resting  her  saucer 
on  the  palm  of  her  outspread  hand,  and  supporting  her 
elbow  on  the  table,  she  stopped  between  her  sips  of  tea  to 
favor  the  circle  with  a  smile,  a  wink,  a  roll  of  the  head,  or 
some  other  mark  of  notice  ;  and  at  those  periods,  her  coun- 
tenance was  lighted  up  with  a  degree  of  intelligence  and 
vivacity,  which  it  was  almost  impossible  to  separate  from  the 
benignant  influence  of  distilled  waters. 

But  for  Mrs.  Gamp,  it  would  have  been  a  curiously  silent 
party.  Miss  Pecksniff  only  spoke  to  her  Augustus,  and  to 
him  in  whispers.  Augustus  spoke  to  nobody,  but  sighed  for 
every  one,  and  occasionally  gave  himself  such  a  sounding 
slap  upon  the  forehead  as  would  make  Mrs.  Todgers,  who 
was  rather  nervous,  start  in  her  chair  with  an  involuntary 
exclamation.  Mrs.  Todgers  was  occupied  in  knitting,  and 
seldom  spoke.  Poor  Merry  held  the  hand  of  cheerful  little 
Ruth  between  her  own,  and  listening  with  evident  pleasure 
to  all  she  said,  but  raroiy  speaking  herself,  sometimes  smiled, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  701 

and  sometimes  kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  and  sometimes 
turned  aside  to  hide  the  tears  that  trembled  in  her  eyes. 
Tom  felt  this  change  in  her  so  much,  and  was  so  glad  to  see 
how  tenderly  Ruth  dealt  with  her,  and  how  she  knew  and 
answered  to  it,  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to  make  any  move- 
ment toward  their  departure,  although  he  had  long  since 
given  utterance  to  all  he  came  to  say. 

The  old  clerk,  subsiding  into  his  usual  state,  remained 
profoundly  silent,  while  the  rest  of  the  little  assembly  were 
thus  occupied,  intent  upon  the  dreams,  whatever  they  might 
be,  which  hardly  seemed  to  stir  the  surface  of  his  sluggish 
thoughts.  The  bent  of  these  dull  fancies  combining  prob- 
ably with  the  silent  feasting  that  was  going  on  about  him, 
and  some  struggling  recollection  of  the  last  approach  to 
revelry  he  had  witnessed,  suggested  a  strange  question  to  his 
mind.     He  looked  round  upon  a  sudden,  and  said, 

**  Who's  lying  dead  up-stairs  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  said  Merry,  turning  to  him.  '*  What  is  the 
matter?    We  are  all  here." 

**  All  here  !  "  cried  the  old  man.  "  All  here  !  Where  is  he 
then — my  old  master,  Mr.  Chuzzlev/it,  who  had  the  only  son? 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  Hush  !  "  said  Merry,  speaking  kindly  to  him. 
"That  happened  long  ago.     Don't  you  recollect  ?  " 

"  Recollect  !  "  rejoined  the  old  man,  with  a  cry  of  grief, 
"  as  if  I  could  forget  !     As  if  I  ever  could  forget  !  " 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  face  for  a  moment ;  and  then 
repeated,  turning  round  exactly  as  before. 

"  Who's  lying  dead  up-stairs  ? " 

"  No  one  !  "  said  Merry. 

At  first  he  gazed  angrily  upon  her,  as  upon  a  stranger  who 
endeavored  to  deceive  him  ;  but,  peering  into  her  face,  and 
seeing  that  it  was  indeed  she,  he  shook  his  head  in  sorrow- 
ful compassion. 

"  You  think  not.  But  they  don't  tell  you.  No,  no,  poor 
thing  !  They  don't  tell  you.  Who  are  these,  and  why  are 
they  merry-making  here,  if  there  is  no  one  dead  ?  Foul 
play  !     Go  see  who  it  is  !  " 

She  made  a  sign  to  them  not  to  speak  to  him,  which 
indeed  they  had  little  inclination  to  do  ;  and  remained 
silent  herself.  So  did  he  for  a  short  time  ;  but  then  he 
repeated  the  same  question  with  an  eagerness  that  had  a 
peculiar  terror  in  it. 

"  There's  some    one  dead,"  he    said,    "  or    dying  ;    and 


702  MARTIN  CHUZZLKVVTT. 

I  want  to  know  who  it  is.  Go  see,  go  see  !  Where's 
Jonas  ? " 

''  In  the  country,"  she  replied. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  her  as  if  he  doubted  what  she  said, 
or  had  not  heard  her  ;  and,  rising  from  his  chair,  walked 
across  the  room  and  up-stairs,  whispering  as  he  went,  "  Foul 
play  !  "  They  heard  his  footsteps  overhead,  going  up  into 
that  corner  of  the  room  in  which  the  bed  stood  (it  was  there 
old  Anthony  had  died)  ;  and  then  they  heard  him  coming 
down  again  immediately.  His  fancy  was  not  so  strong  or 
wild  that  it  pictured  to  him  any  thing  in  the  deserted  bed- 
chamber which  was  not  there  ;  for  he  returned  much 
calmer,  and  appeared  to  have  satisfied  himself. 

''They  don't  tell  you,"  he  said  to  Merry  in  his  quavering 
voice,  as  he  sat  down  again,  and  patted  her  upon  the  head. 
"They  don't  tell  me  either;  but  I'll  watch,  I'll  watch.  They 
shall  not  hurt  you,  don't  be  frightened.  When  you  have  sat 
up  watching,  I  have  sat  up  watching  too.  Ay,  ay,  I  have  !  " 
he  piped  out,  clenching  his  weak,  shriveled  hand.  "  Many 
a  night  I  have  been  ready  !  " 

He  said  this  with  such  trembling  gaps  and  pauses  in  his 
want  of  breath,  and  said  it  in  his  jealous  secrecy  so  closely 
in  her  ear,  that  little  or  nothing  of  it  was  understood  by  the 
visitors.  But  they  had  heard  and  seen  enough  of  the  old 
man  to  be  disquieted,  and  to  have  left  their  seats  and  gath- 
ered about  him;  thereby  affording  Mrs.  Gamp,  whose  pro- 
fessional coolness  was  not  so  easily  disturbed,  an  eligible 
opportunity  for  concentrating  the  whole  resources  of  her 
powerful  mind  and  appetite  upon  the  toast  and  butter,  tea 
and  eggs.  She  had  brought  them  to  bear  upon  those  viands 
with  such  vigor  that  her  face  was  in  the  highest  state  of 
inflammation,  when  she  now  (there  being  nothing  left  to  eat 
or  drink)  saw  fit  to  interpose. 

"Why,  highty,  tighty,  sir!"  cries  Mrs.  Gamp,  "is  these 
your  manners  ?  You  want  a  pitcher  of  cold  water  throw'd 
over  you  to  bring  you  round;  that's  my  belief;  and  if  you 
was  under  Betsey  Prig  you'd  have  it,  too,  I  do  assure  you, 
Mr.  Chuffey.  Spanish  flies  is  the  only  thing  to  draw  this 
nonsense  out  of  you;  and  if  any  body  wanted  to  do  you 
a  kindness,  they'd  clap  a  blister  of  'em  on  your  head,  and  put 
a  mustard  poultige  upon  your  back.  Who's  dead,  indeed  ! 
It  wouldn't  be  no  grievous  loss  if  some  one  was,  I  think  !  " 

"  He's  quiet  now,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Merry.  "  Don't  dis- 
turb him." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  703 

•*  Oh,  bother  the  old  wictim,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,"  replied 
that  zealous  lady,  "  I  ain't  no  patience  with  him.  You  give 
him  his  own  way  too  much,  by  half.  A  worritin'  wexagious 
creetur  !  " 

No  doubt  with  the  view  of  carrying  out  the  precepts  she 
enforced,  and  ''  bothering  the  old  wictim"  in  practice  as  well 
as  in  theory,  Mrs.  Gamp  took  him  by  the  collar  of  his  coat, 
and  gave  him  some  dozen  or  two  of  hearty  shakes  backward 
and  forward  in  his  chair;  that  exercise  being  considered  by 
the  disciples  of  the  Prig  school  of  nursing  (who  are  very 
numerous  among  professional  ladies)  as  exceedingly  condu- 
cive to  repose,  and  highly  beneficial  to  the  performance  of 
the  nervous  functions.  Its  effect  in  this  instance  was  to  ren- 
der the  patient  so  giddy  and  addle-headed,  that  he  could  say 
nothing  more  ;  w^hich  Mrs.  Gamp  regarded  as  the  triumph 
of  her  art. 

"  There  !  "  she  said,  loosening  the  old  man's  cravat,  in 
consequence  of  his  being  rather  black  in  the  face,  after  this 
scientific  treatment.  "  Now,  I  hope  you  are  easy  in  your 
mind.  If  you  should  turn  at  all  faint,  we  can  soon  rewive 
you,  sir,  I  promige  you.  Bite  a  person's  thumb,  or  turn  their 
fingers  the  wrong  way,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  smiling  with  the 
consciousness  of  at  once  imparting  pleasure  and  instruction 
to  her  auditors,  "  and  they  comes  to,  wonderful,  Lord  bless 
you  !  " 

As  this  excellent  woman  had  been  formally  intrusted  with 
the  care  of  Mr.  Chuffey  on  a  previous  occasion,  neither  Mrs. 
Jonas  nor  any  body  else  had  the  resolution  to  interfere 
directly  with  her  mode  of  treatment;  though  all  present  (Tom 
Pinch  and  his  sister  especially)  appeared  to  be  disposed  to 
differ  from  her  views.  For  such  is  the  rash  boldness  of  the 
uninitiated,  that  they  will  frequently  set  up  some  monstrous 
abstract  principle,  such  as  humanity,  or  tenderness,  or  the 
like  idle  folly,  in  obstinate  defiance  of  all  precedent  and 
usage;  and  will  even  venture  to  maintain  the  same  against  the 
persons  who  have  made  the  precedents  and  established  the 
usage,  and  who  must  therefore  be  the  best  and  most  impar- 
tial judges  of  the  subject. 

"  Ah  !  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  all  comes  of 
this  unfortunate  marriage.  If  my  sister  had  not  been  so  pre- 
cipitate, and  had  not  united  herself  to  a  wretch,  there  would 
have  been  no  Mr.  Chuffey  in  the  house." 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  She'll  hear  you." 

■'  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  she  did  hear  me,  Mr.  Pinch," 


704  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

said  Cherry,  /aising  her  voice  a  little;  "for  it  is  not  in  my 
nature  to  add  to  the  uneasiness  of  any  person,  far  less  of  my 
own  sister.  /  ki'ow  what  a  sister's  duties  are,  Mr.  Pinch, 
and  I  hope  I  always  showed  it  in  my  practice.  Augustus, 
my  dear  child,  find  my  pocket  handkerchief,  and  give 
it  to  me. 

Augustus  obeyed,  c*nd  took  Mrs.  Todgers  aside  to  pour  his 
griefs  into  her  friendly  oosom. 

''  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Charity,  looking  after  her 
betrothed  and  glancing  at  her  sister,  "  that  I  ought  to  be  very 
grateful  for  the  blessings  X  enjoy,  and  those  which  are  yet  in 
store  for  me.  When  I  co.itrast  Augustus" — here  she  was 
modest  and  embarrassed — '•  who,  I  don't  mind  saying  to  you, 
is  all  softness,  mildness,  and  devotion,  with  the  detestable 
man  who  is  my  sister's  husband  ;  and  when  I  think,  Mr. 
Pinch,  that  in  the  dispensations  of  this  world,  our  cases 
might  have  been  reversed,  I  have  much  to  be  thankful  for, 
indeed,  and  much  to  make  me  numble  and  contented." 

Contented  she  might  have  been,  but  humble  she  assur- 
edly was  not.  Her  face  and  manner  experienced  some- 
thing so  widely  different  from  humility,  that  Tom  could  not 
help  understanding  and  despising  the  base  motives  that  were 
working  in  her  breast.  He  turned  away,  and  said  to  Ruth, 
that  it  was  time  for  them  to  go. 

"  I  will  write  to  your  husband,"  said  Tom  to  Merry,  "  and 
explain  to  him,  as  I  would  have  done  if  I  had  met  him  here, 
that  if  he  has  sustained  any  inconvenience  through  my  means, 
it  is  not  my  fault :  a  postman  not  being  more  innocent  of  the 
news  he  brings  than  I  was  when  I  handed  him  that  letter." 

"  I  thank  you  !  "  said  Merry.     "  It  may  do  some  good." 

She  parted  tenderly  from  Ruth,  who  with  her  brother  was 
in  the  act  of  leaving  the  room,  when  a  key  was  heard  in  the 
lock  of  the  door  below,  and  immediately  afterward  a  quick 
footstep  in  the  passage.     Tom  stopped,  and  looked  at  Merry. 

It  was  Jonas,  she  said,  timidly. 

"  I  had  better  not  meet  him  on  the  stairs,  perhaps,"  said 
Tom,  drawing  his  sister's  arm  through  his,  and  coming  back 
a  step  or  two.     **  I'll  wait  for  him  here,  a  moment." 

He  had  scarcely  said  it  when  the  door  opened,  and  Jonas 
entered.  His  wife  came  forward  to  receive  him  ;  but  he  put 
her  aside  with  his  hand,  and  said,  in  a  surly  tone  : 

"  I  didn't  know  you'd  got  a  party." 

As  he  looked,  at  the  same  time,  either  by  accident  or 
design,  toward  Miss  Pecksniff  ;  and  as  Miss  Pecksniff  was 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  70s 

only  too  delighted  to  quarrel  with  him,  she  instantly  resented 
it. 

"Oh  dear!"  she  said  rising.  "  Pray  don't  let  us  intrude 
upon  your  domestic  happiness  !  That  would  be  a  pity.  We 
have  taken  tea,  sir,  in  your  absence  ;  but  if  you  will  have 
the  goodness  to  send  us  a  note  of  the  expense,  receipted,  we 
shall  be  happy  to  pay  it.  Augustus,  my  love,  we  will  go,  if 
you  please.  Mrs.  Todgers,  unless  you  wish  to  remain  here, 
we  shall  be  happy  to  take  you  with  us.  It  would  be  a  pity, 
indeed,  to  spoil  the  bliss  wliich  this  gentleman  always  brings 
with  him  ;  especially  into  his  own  home." 

"  Charity  !  Charity  I  "  remonstrated  her  sister,  in  such  a 
heartfelt  tone  that  she  might  have  been  imploring  her  to  show 
the  cardinal  virtue  whose  name  she  bore. 

"  Merry,  my  dear,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
advice,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  a  stately  scorn — by- 
the-way,  she  had  not  been  offered  any — "  but  /  am  not  his 
slave " 

"  No,  nor  wouldn't  have  been  if  you  could,"  interrupted 
Jonas.     "  We  all  know  about  it." 

''  JV/ia^  did  you  say,  sir  ?  "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff  sharply. 

"  Didn't  you  hear  ?  "  retorted  Jonas,  lounging  down  upon 
a  chair.  ''  I  am  not  agoing  to  say  it  again.  If  you  like  to 
stay,  you  may  stay.  If  you  like  to  go,  you  m^ay  go.  But  if 
you  stay,  please  to  be  civil." 

"Beast!"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  sweeping  past  him. 
"Augustus!  He  is  beneath  your  notice!  "  Augustus  had 
been  making  some  faint  and  sickly  demonstration  of  shaking 
his  fist.  "  Come  away,  child,"  screamed  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  I 
command  you  !  " 

The  scream  was  elicited  from  her  by  Augustus  mani- 
festing an  intention  to  return  and  grapple  with  him.  But 
Miss  Pecksniff  giving  the  fiery  youth  a  pull,  and  Mrs. 
Todgers  giving  him  a  push,  they  all  three  tumbled  out  of  the 
room  together,  to  the  music  of  Miss  Pecksniff's  shrill  remon- 
strances. 

All  this  time,  Jonas  had  seen  nothing  of  Tom  and  his 
sister  ;  for  they  were  almost  behind  the  door  when  he 
opened  it,  and  he  had  sat  down  with  his  back  toward  them,  and 
had  purposely  kept  his  eyes  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
during  his  altercation  with  Miss  Pecksniff,  in  order  that  his 
seeming  carelessness  might  increase  the  exasperation  of  that 
wronged  young  damsel.  His  wife  now  faltered  out  that  Tom 
had  been  waiting  to  see  him  ;  and  Tom  advanced. 


7o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  instant  he  presented  himself.  Jonas  got  up  from  his 
chair,  and  swearing  a  great  oath,  caught  it  in  his  grasp,'  as  if 
he  would  have  felled  Tom  to  the  ground  with  it.  As  he 
most  unquestionably  would  have  done,  but  that  his  very  pas- 
sion and  surprise  made  him  irresolute,  and, gave  Tom,  in  his 
calmness,  an  opportunity  of  being  heard. 

"You  have  no  cause  to  be  violent,  sir,"  said  Tom. 
"  Though  what  I  wish  to  say  relates  to  your  own  affairs,  I 
know  nothing  of  them,  and  desire  to  know  nothing  of  them." 

Jonas  was  too  enraged  to  speak.  He  held  the  door  open  ; 
and  stamping  his  foot  upon  the  ground,  motioned  Tom 
away. 

"As  you  can  not  suppose,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  here, 
with  any  view  of  conciliating  you,  or  pleasing  myself,  I  am 
quite  indifferent  to  your  reception  of  me,  or  your  dismissal  of 
me.  Hear  what  I  have  to  say,  if  you  are  not  a  madman  !  I 
gave  you  a  letter  the  other  day,  when  you  were  about  to  go 
abroad." 

"  You  thief,  you  did  !  "  retorted  Jonas.  "  I'll  pay  you  for 
the  carriage  of  it  one  day,  and  settle  an  old  score  besides. 
I  will  !  " 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tom  ;  "  you  needn't  waste  words  or 
threats.  I  wish  you  to  understand — plainly  because  I  would 
rather  keep  clear  of  you  and  every  thing  that  concerns  you  ; 
not  because  I  have  the  least  apprehension  of  your  doing  me 
any  injury,  v/hich  would  be  weak  indeed — that  I  am  no  party 
to  the  contents  of  that  letter.  That  I  know  nothing  of  it. 
That  I  was  not  even  aware  that  it  was  to  be  delivered  to  you  ; 
and  that  I  had  it  from " 

"  By  the  Lord  ! "  cried  Jonas,  fiercely  catching  up  the 
chair,  "  I'll  knock  your  brains  out,  if  you  speak  another 
word." 

Tom,  nevertheless,  persisting  in  his  intention,  and  opening 
his  lips  to  speak  again,  Jonas  set  upon  him  like  a  savage  ; 
and  in  the  quickness  and  ferocity  of  his  attack  would  have 
surely  done  him  some  grievous  injury,  defenseless  as  he  was, 
and  embarrassed  by  having  his  frightened  sister  clinging  to 
his  arm,  if  Merry  had  not  run  between  them,  crying  to  Tom 
for  the  love  of  Heaven  to  leave  the  house.  The  agony  of 
this  poor  creature,  the  terror  of  his  sister,  the  impossibility 
of  making  himself  audible,  and  the  ecpial  impossibility  of 
bearing  up  against  Mrs.  Gamp,  who  threw  lierself  upon  him 
like  a  feather-bed,  and  forced  him  backward  down  the  stairs 
by  the  mere  oppression  of  her  dead-weight,  prevailed.     Tom 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  707 

shook   the   dust  of  that   house  off  his  feet,  without  having 
mentioned  Nadgett's  name. 

If  the  name  could  have  passed  his  lips  ;  if  Jonas,  in  the 
insolence  of  his  vile  nature,  had  never  roused  him  to  do  that 
old  act  of  manliness,  for  Avhich  (and  not  for  his  last  offenSe) 
he  hated  him  with  such  malignity  ;  if  Jonas  could  have 
learned,  as  then  he  could  and  would  have  learned,  through 
Tom's  means,  what  unsuspected  spy  there  was  upon  him  ;  he 
would  have  been  saved  from  the  commission  of  a  guilty 
deed,  then  drawing  on  toward  its  black  accomplishment. 
But  the  fatality  was  of  his  own  working  ;  the  pit  was  of  his 
own  digging  ;  the  gloom  that  gathered  round  him,  was  the 
shadow  of  his  own  life. 

His  wife  had  closed  the  door,  and  thrown  herself  before  it 
on  the  ground,  upon  her  knees.  She  held  up  her  hands  to 
him  now,  and  besought  him  not  to  be  harsh  with  her,  for 
she  had  interposed  in  fear  of  bloodshed. 

"  So,  so  !  "  said  Jonas,  looking  down  upon  her,  as  he 
fetched  his  breath.  "  These  are  your  friends,  are  they,  when 
I  am  away  ?  You  plot  and  tamper  with  this  sort  of  people, 
do  you  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  have  no  knowledge  of  these  secrets,  and 
no  clew  to  their  meaning.  I  have  never  seen  him  since  I  left 
home  but  once — but  twice — before  to-day." 

"  Oh  !  "  sneered  Jonas,  catching  at  this  correction.  "  But 
once,  but  twice,  eh  ?  Which  do  you  mean  ?  Twice  and 
once,  perhaps.  Three  times  !  How  many  more,  you  lying 
jade?"' 

As  he  made  an  angry  motion  wnth  his  hand,  she  shrunk 
down  hastily.     A  suggestive  action  !     Full  of  a  cruel  truth! 

"  How  many  more  times  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  No  more.  The  other  morning,  and  to-day,  and  once 
besides." 

He  was  about  to  retort  upon  her,  when  the   clock  struck. 

He  started,  stopped,  and  listened  ;  appearing  to  revert  to 
some  engagement,  or  to  some  other  subject,  a  secret  within 
his  own  breast,  recalled  to  him  by  this  record  of  the  progress 
of  the  hours. 

"  Don't  lie  there  !     Get  up  !  " 

Having  helped  her  to  rise,  or  rather  hauled  her  up  by  the 
arm,  he  went  on  to  say  : 

''  Listen  to  me,  young  lady  ;  and  don't  whine  when  you 
have  no  occasion,  or  I  may  make  some  for  you.  If  I  find 
him  in  my  house  again,  or  find   that  you  have  seen  him  in 


7o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

any  body  else's  liouse,  you'll  repent  it.  If  you  are  not  deaf 
and  dumb  to  every  thing  that  concerns  me,  unless  you  have 
my  leave  to  hear  and  speak,  you'll  repent  it.  If  you  don't 
obey  exactly  what  I  order,  you'll  repent  it.  Now,  attend. 
What's  the  time  ?  " 

"  It  struck  eight  a  minute  ago." 

He  looked  toward  her  intently  ;  and  said,  with  a  labored 
distinctness,  as  if  he  had  got  the  words  off  by  heart  : 

*'  I  have  been  traveling  day  and  night,  and  am  tired.  I 
have  lost  some  money,  and  that  don't  improve  me.  Put  my 
supper  in  the  little  off-room  below,  and  have  the  truckle-bed 
made.  I  shall  sleep  there  to-night,  and  may  be  to-morrow 
night  ;  and  if  I  can  sleep  all  day  to-morrow,  so  much  the 
better,  for  I've  got  trouble  to  sleep  off,  if  I  can.  Keep  the 
house  quiet,  and  don't  call  me.  Mind  !  Don't  call  me  ! 
Don't  let  any  body  call  me.     Let  me  lie  there." 

She  said  it  should  be  done.     Was  that  all  ? 

"  All  what !  You  must  be  prying  and  questioning  ?  "  he 
angrily  retorted.     *'  What  more  do  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

*'  I  want  to  know  nothing,  Jonas,  but  what  you  tell  me. 
All  hope  of  confidence  between  us  has  long  deserted  me." 

"  Ecod,  I  should  hope  so  !  "  he  muttered. 

*'  But  if  you  will  tell  me  what  you  wish,  I  will  be  obedient 
and  will  try  to  please  you.  I  make  no  merit  of  that,  for  I  have 
no  friend  in  my  father  or  my  sister,  but  am  quite  alone.  I 
am  very  humble  and  submissive.  You  told  me  you  would 
break  my  spirit,  and  you  have  done  so.  Do  not  break  my 
heart,  too." 

She  ventured,  as  she  said  these  words,  to  lay  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  He  suffered  it  to  rest  there,  in  his  ex- 
ultation ;  and  the  whole  mean,  abject,  sordid,  pitiful  soul 
of  the  man  looked  at  her,  for  the  moment,  through  his 
wicked  eyes. 

For  the  moment  only  ;  for,  with  the  same  hurried  return 
to  something  within  himself,  he  bade  her,  in  a  surly  tone, 
show  her  obedience  by  executing  his  commands  without  de- 
lay. When  she  had  withdrawn,  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
room  several  times  ;  but  always  with  his  right  hand  clenched, 
as  if  it  held  something  ;  which  it  did  not,  being  empty. 
When  he  was  tired  of  this,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair, 
and  thoughtfully  turned  up  the  sleeve  of  his  right  arm,  as  if 
he  were  rather  musing  about  his  strength  than  examining  it  ; 
but,  even  then,  he  kept  the  hand  clenched. 

He  was  brooding  in    this  chair,  with  his  eyes  cast  down 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  709 

upon  the  ground,  when  Mrs.  Gamp  came  in  to  tell  him  that 
the  little  room  was  ready.  Not  being  quite  sure  of  her  re- 
ception after  interfering  in  the  quarrel,  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  a 
means  of  interesting  and  propitiating  her  patron,  affected  a 
deep  solicitude  in  Mr.  Chuffey. 

"  How  is  he  now,  sir  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Who  ?  "  cried  Jonas,  raising  his  head  and  staring  at  her. 

"  To  be  sure  !  "  returned  the  matron,  with  a  smile  and  a 
courtesy.  "  What  am  I  thinking  of  !  You  wasn't  here,  sir, 
when  he  was  took  so  strange.  I  never  see  a  poor  dear 
creetur  took  so  strange  in  all  my  life,  except  a  patient  much 
about  the  same  age,  as  I  once  nussed,  which  his  calling  was 
custom'us,  and  his  name  was  Mrs.  Harris's  own  father,  as 
pleasant  a  singer,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  ever  you  heard,  with  a 
voice  like  a  Jew's-harp  in  the  bass  notes,  that  it  took  six  men 
to  hold  at  sech  times,  foaming  frightful." 

''  Chuffey,  eh  ?  "  said  Jonas  carelessly,  seeing  that  she 
went  up  to  the  old  clerk,  and  looked  at  him.     "  Ha  !  " 

"  The  creetur's  head's  so  hot,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  that  you 
might  'eat  a  flat-iron  at  it.  And  no  wonder,  I'm  sure,  con- 
siderin'  the  things  he  said  !  " 

"  Said  !"  cried  Jonas.     "  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

Mrs.  Garnp  laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  to  put  some 
check  upon  its  palpitations,  and  turning  up  her  eyes  replied 
in  a  faint  voice  : 

"  The  awfulest  things,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  ever  I  heerd  ! 
Which  Mrs.  Harris's  father  never  spoke  a  word  when 
took  so,  some  does  and  some  don't,  except  sayin',  when  he 
come  round,  '  Where  is  Sairey  Gamp  ? '  But  raly,  sir,  when 
Mr.  Chuffey  comes  to  ask  who's  lyin'  dead  up-stairs,  and — " 

"  Who's  lying  dead  up-stairs  !  "  repeated  Jonas,  standing 
aghast. 

Mrs.  Gamp  nodded,  made  as  if  she  were  swallowing,  and 
went  on. 

"Who's  lying  dead  up-stairs;  such  was  his  Bible  lan- 
guage ;  and  where  was  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  as  had  the  only  son; 
and  when  he  goes  up  stairs  a-looking  in  the  beds,  and 
wandering  about  the  rooms,  and  comes  down  again  a  whis- 
perin'  softly  to  hisself  about  foul  play  and  that;  it  give  me 
sich  a  turn,  I  don't  deny  it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  that  I  never 
could  have  kep  myself  up  but  for  a  little  drain  o'  spirits, 
which  I  seldom  touches,  but  could  always  wish  to  know 
where  to  find,  if  so  dispoged,  never  knowin'  wot  may  hap- 
pen next,  the  world  bein'  so  uncertain." 


7IO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Why,  the  old  fool's  mad  ! "  cried  Jonas,  much  dis- 
turbed. 

'*  That's  my  opinion,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and  I  will 
not  deceive  you,  I  believe  as  Mr.  Chuffey,  sir,  rekwires 
attention  (if  I  may  make  so  bold),  and  should  not  have  his 
liberty  to  wex  and  worry  your  sweet  lady  as  he  does." 

"  Why,  who  minds  what  he  says  ?  "  retorted  Jonas. 

"Still  he  is  worriting,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  No  one  don't 
mind  him,  but  he  is  a  ill  conwenience." 

"Ecod,  you're  right,"  said  Jonas,  looking  doubtfully  at  the 
subject  of  this  conversation.  "  I  have  half  a  mind  to  shut 
him  up." 

Mrs.  Gamp  rubbed  her  hands,  and  smiled,  and  shook  her 
head,  and  sniffed  expressively,  as  scenting  a  job. 

"  Could  you — could  you  take  care  of  such  an  idiot  now, 
in  some  spare  room  up-stairs  ? "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Me  and  a  friend  of  mine,  one  off,  one  on,  could  do  it, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  replied  the  nurse;  **  our  charges  not.  bein' 
high  but  wishin'  they  was  lower,  and  allowance  made  con- 
siderin'  not  strangers.  Me  and  Betsey  Prig,  sir,  would  under- 
take Mr.  Chuffey,  reasonable,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  looking  at 
him  with  her  head  on  one  side,  as  if  he  had  been  a  piece  of 
goods,  for  which  she  was  driving  a  bargain;  ''  and  give  every 
satigefaction.  Betsey  Prig  has  nussed  a  many  lunacies,  and 
well  she  knows  their  ways,  Vv^hich  puttin'  'em  right  close  afore 
the  fire,  when  fractious,  is  the  certainest  and  most  compog- 
ing." 

While  Mrs.  Gamp  discoursed  to  this  effect,  Jonas  was 
walking  up  and  down  the  room  again,  glancing  covertly  at 
the  old  clerk,  as  he  did  so.     He  now  made  a  stop,  and  said: 

"I  must  look  after  him,  I  suppose,  or  I  may  have  him 
doing  some  mischief.     What  say  you  ?" 

"  Nothin'  more  likely  !  "  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  As  well  I 
have  experienged,  I  do  assure  you,  sir." 

"  Well !  Look  after  him  for  the  present,  and — let  me  see 
— three  days  from  this  time  let  the  other  woman  come  here, 
and  we'll  see  if  we  can  make  a  bargain  of  it.  About  nine 
or  ten  o'clock  at  night,  say.  Keep  your  eye  upon  him  in 
the  meanwhile,  and  don't  talk  about  it.  He's  as  mad  as  a 
March  hare  !  " 

''  Madder  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  A  deal  madder  !  " 

"See  to  him,  then;  take  care  that  he  does  no  harm;  and 
recollect  what  I  have  told  you." 

Leaving  Mrs.  Gamp  in  the  act  of  repeating  all  she  had 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  711 

been  told,  and  of  producing  in  support  of  her  memory  and 
trustworthiness,  many  commendations  selected  from  among 
the  most  remarkable  opinions  of  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Harris, 
he  descended  to  the  little  room  prepared  for  him,  and  pull- 
ing off  his  coat  and  his  boots,  put  them  outside  the  door 
before  he  locked  it.  In  locking  it,  he  was  careful  so  to  adjust 
the  key,  as  to  baffle  any  curious  person  who  might  try  to 
peep  in  through  the  keyhole;  and  when  he  had  taken  these 
precautions,  he  sat  down  to  his  supper. 

"  Mr.  Chuff,"  he  muttered,  "it'll be  pretty  easy  to  be  even 
with  you.  It's  of  no  use  doing  things  by  halves,  and  as  long 
as  I  stop  here,  I'll  take  good  care  of  you.  When  I'm  off  you 
may  say  what  you  please.  But  it's  a  d — d  strange  thing,"  he 
added,  pushing  away  his  untouched  plate,  and  striding 
moodily  to  and  fro,  "  that  his  drivelings  should  have  taken 
this  turn  just  now." 

After  pacing  the  room  from  end  to  end  several  times,  he 
sat  down  in  another  chair. 

*'  I  say  just  now,  but  for  any  thing  I  know,  he  may  have 
been  carrying  on  the  same  game  all  along.  Old  dog  !  He 
shall  be  gagged  !  " 

He  paced  the  room  again  in  the  same  restless  and 
unsteady  way;  and  then  sat  down  upon  the  bedstead,  lean- 
ing his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and  looking  at  the  table.  .When 
he  had  looked  at  it  for  a  long  time,  he  remembered  his  sup- 
per; and  resuming  the  chair  he  had  first  occupied,  began  to 
eat  with  great  rapacity,  not  like  a  hungry  man,  but  as  if  he 
were  detei mined  to  do  it.  He  drank  too,  roundly;  some- 
times stopping  in  the  middle  of  a  draught  to  walk,  and 
change  his  seat  and  walk  again,  and  dart  back  to  the  table 
and  fall  to,  in  a  ravenous  hurry,  as  before. 

It  was  now  growing  dark.  As  the  gloom  of  evening, 
deepening  into  night,  came  on,  another  dark  shade  emerg- 
ing from  within  him  seemed  to  overspread  his  face,  and 
slowly  change  it.  Slowly,  slowly;  darker  and  darker;  more 
and  more  haggard;  creeping  over  him  by  little  and  little; 
until  it  was  black  night  within  him  and  without. 

The  room  in  which  he  had  shut  himself  up,  was  on  the 
ground  floor,  at  the  back  of  the  house.  It  was  lighted  by  a 
dirty  sky-light,  and  had  a  door  in  the  wall,  opening  into  a 
narrow-covered  passage  or  blind-alley,  very  little  frequented 
after  five  or  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  not  in  much  use 
as  a  thoroughfare  at  any  hour.  But  it  had  an  outlet  in  a 
neighboring  street. 


712  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  ground  on  which  this  chamber  stood,  had,  at  one 
time,  not  within  his  recollection,  been  a  yard;  and  had  been 
converted  to  its  present  purpose,  for  use  as  an  office.  But 
the  occasion  for  it  died  with  the  man  who  built  it;  and  sav- 
ing that  it  had  sometimes  served  as  an  apology  for  a  spare 
bed-room,  and  that  the  old  clerk  had  once  held  it  (but  that 
was  years  ago)  as  his  recognized  apartment,  it  had  been  lit- 
tle troubled  by  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  son.  It  was  a  blotched, 
stained,  moldering  room,  like  a  vault;  and  there  were  water- 
pipes  running  through  it,  which  at  unexpected  times  in  the 
night,  when  other  things  were  quiet,  clicked  and  gurgled 
suddenly,  as  if  they  were  choking. 

The  door  into  the  court  had  not  been  opened  for  a  long, 
long  time;  but  the  key  had  always  hung  in  one  place,  and 
there  it  hung  now.  He  was  prepared  for  its  being  rusty;  for 
he  had  a  little  bottle  of  oil  in  his  pocket  and  the  feather  of  a 
pen,  with  which  he  lubricated  the  key,  and  the  lock  too, 
carefully.  All  this  while  he  had  been  without  his  coat,  and 
had  nothing  on  his  feet  but  his  stockings.  He  now  got 
softly  into  bed,  in  the  same  state,  and  tossed  from 
side  to  side  to  tumble  it.  In  his  restless  condition,  that  was 
easily  done. 

When  he  arose,  he  took  from  his  portmanteau,  which  he 
had  caused  to  be  carried  into  that  place  when  he  came  home, 
a  pair  of  clumsy  shoes,  and  put  them  on  his  feet;  also  a  pair 
of  leather  leggings,  such  as  countrymen  are  used  to  wear, 
with  straps  to  fasten  them  to  the  waistband.  In  these  he 
dressed  himself  at  leisure.  Lastly,  he  took  out  a  common 
frock  of  coarse  dark  jean,  which  he  drew  over  his  own  un- 
derclothing; and  felt  hat — he  had  purposely  left  his  own  up- 
stairs. He  then  sat  doAvn  by  the  door,  with  the  key  in  his 
hand,  waiting. 

He  had  no  light ;  the  time  was  dreary,  long,  and  awful. 
The  ringers  were  practicing  in  a  neighboring  church,  and 
the  clashing  of  the  bells  was  almost  maddening.  Curse  the 
clamoring  bells,  they  seemed  to  know  that  he  was  listening 
at  the  door,  and  to  proclaim  it  in  a  crowd  of  voices  to  all  the 
town  !     Would  they  never  be  still  ? 

They  ceased  at  last,  and  then  the  silence  was  so  new  and 
terrible  that  it  seemed  the  prelude  to  some  dreadful  noise. 
Footsteps  in  the  court !  Two  men  !  He  fell  back  from  the 
door  on  tii)toe,  as  if  they  could  have  seen  him  through  its 
wooden  panels. 

They  passed  on,  talking   (he   could   make  out)  about  a 


i 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  713 

skeleton  which  had  been  dug  up  yesterday,  in  some  work  of 
excavation  near  at  hand,  and  was  supposed  to  be  that  of  a 
murdered  man.  *'  So  murder  is  not  ahvays  found  out,  you 
see,"  they  said  to  one  another  as  they  turned  the  corner. 

Hush  ! 

He  put  the  key  into  the  lock  and  turned  it.  The  door 
resisted  for  a  while,  but  soon  came  stiffly  open;  mingling  with 
the  sense  of  fever  in  his  mouth,  a  taste  of  rust,  and  dust,  and 
earth,  and  rotten  wood.  He  looked  out;  passed  out  ;  locked 
it  after  him. 

All  was  clear  and  quiet,  as  he  fled  away. 


CHAPTER    XLVH. 

CONCLUSION     OF     THE     ENTERPRISE    OF    MR.     JONAS    AND    HIS 

FRIEND. 

Did  no  men  passing  through  the  dim  streets  shrink  without 
knowing  why,  when  he  came  stealing  up  behind  them  ?  As 
he  glided  on,  had  no  child  in  its  sleep  an  indistinct  percep- 
tion of  a  guilty  shadow  falling  on  its  bed,  that  troubled  its 
innocent  rest  ?  Did  no  dog  hovW,  and  strive  to  break 
its  rattling  chain,  that  it  might  tear  him;  no  burrowing  rat, 
scenting  the  work  he  had  in  hand,  essay  to  gnaw  a  passage 
after  him,  that  it  might  hold  a  greedy  revel  at  the  feast  of  his 
providing  ?  When  he  looked  back,  across  his  shoulder,  was 
it  to  see  if  his  quick  footsteps  still  fell  dry  upon  the  dusty 
pavement,  or  were  already  moist  and  clogged  with  the  red 
mire  that  stained  the  naked  feet  of  Cain  ? 

He  shaped  his  course  for  the  main  western  road,  and  soon 
reached  it,  riding  a  part  of  the  way,  then  alighting  and  walk- 
ing on  again.  He  traveled  for  a  considerable  distance  upon 
the  roof  o(  \  stage-coach,  which  came  up  while  he  was  a  foot; 
and  when  r\  turned  out  of  his  road,  bribed  the  driver  of  a 
return  posi  chaise  to  take  him  on  with  him  ;  and  then  made 
across  the  'Country  at  a  run,  and  saved  a  mile  or  two  before 
he  struck  ap^ain  into  the  road.  At  last,  as  his  plan  was,  he 
came  up  with  a  certain  lumbering,  slow,  night-coach,  which 
stopped  whenever  it  could,  and  was  stopping  then  at  a  public- 
house,  while  the  guard  and  coachman  ate  and  drank  within. 

He  barga'ned  for  a  seat  outside  this  coach,  and  took  it. 
And  he  quitted  it  no  more  until  it  was  within  a  few  miles  of 
its  destinatic  Hj  but  occupied  the  game  place  all  night, 


714  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

All  night !  It  is  a  common  fancy  that  nature  seems  to 
sleep  by  night.  It  is  a  false  fancy,  as  who  should  know  bet- 
ter than  he  ? 

The  fishes  slumbered  in  the  cold,  bright,  glistening  streams 
and  rivers,  perhaps;  and  the  birds  roosted  on  the  branches  of 
the  trees;  and  in  their  stalls  and  pastures  beasts  were  quiet; 
and  human  creatures  slept.  But  what  of  that,  when  the  solemn 
night  was  watching,  when  it  never  winked,  when  its  darkness 
watched  no  less  than  its  light!  The  stately  trees,  the  moon, 
and  shining  stars,  the  softly-stirring  wind,  the  over-shadowed 
lane,  the  broad,  bright  country-side,  they  all  kept  watch. 
There  was  not  a  blade  of  growing  grass  or  corn,  but  watched  ; 
and  the  quieter  it  was,  the  more  intent  and  fixed  its  watch 
upon  him  seemed  to  be. 

And  yet  he  slept.  Riding  on  among  these  sentinels  of 
God,  he  slept,  and  did  not  change  the  purpose  of  his  journey. 
If  he  forgot  it  in  his  troubled  dreams,  it  came  up  steadily, 
and  woke  him.  But  it  never  woke  him  to  remorse,  or  to 
abandonment  of  his  design. 

He  dreamed  at  one  time  that  he  was  lying  calmly  in  his 
bed,  thinking  of  a  moonlight  night  and  the  noise  of  wheels, 
when  the  old  clerk  put  his  head  in  at  the  door  and  beckoned 
him.  At  this  signal  he  arose  immediately — being  already 
dressed,  in  the  clothes  he  actually  wore  at  that  time — and 
accompanied  him  into  a  strange  city,  where  the  names  of 
the  streets  were  written  on  the  walls  in  characters  quite  new 
to  him  ;  which  gave  him  no  surprise  or  uneasiness,  for  he  re- 
membered in  his  dream  to  have  been  there  before.  Al- 
though these  streets  were  very  precipitous,  insomuch  that  to 
get  from  one  to  another,  it  was  necessary  to  descend  great 
heights  by  ladders  that  were  too  short,  and  ropes  that  moved 
deep  bells,  and  swung  and  swayed  as  they  were  clung  to, 
the  danger  gave  him  little  emotion  beyond  the  first  thrill  of 
terror  :  his  anxieties  being  concentrated  on  his  dress,  which 
was  quite  unfitted  for  some  festival  that  was  about  to  be 
holden  there,  and  in  which  he  had  come  to  take  a  part.  Al- 
ready, great  crowds  began  to  fill  the  streets,  and  in  one  di- 
rection myriads  of  people  came  rushing  down  an  intermina- 
ble perspective,  strewing  flowers  and  making  way  for  others 
on  white  horses,  when  a  terrible  figure  started  from  the 
throng,  and  cried  out  that  it  was  the  last  day  for 
all  the  world.  The  cry  being  spread,  there  was  a  wild  hur- 
rying on  to  judgment  ;  and  the  press  became  so  great  that 
he  and  his  companion  (who  was  constantly  changing,  and 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  715 

was  never  the  same  man  two  minutes  together,  though  he 
never  saw  one  man  come  or  another  go),  stood  aside  in  a 
porch,  fearfully  surveying  the  multitude  ;  in  which  there 
were  many  faces  that  he  knew,  and  many  that  he  did  not 
know,  but  dreamed  he  did  ;  when  all  at  once  a  struggling 
head  rose  up  among  the  rest — livid  and  deadly,  but  the  same 
as  he  had  known  it — and  denounced  him  as  having  appointed 
that  direful  day  to  happen.  They  closed  together.  As  he 
strove  to  free  the  hand  in  which  he  held  a  club,  and  strike 
the  blow  he  had  so  often  thought  of,  he  started  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  waking  purpose  and  the  rising  of  the  sun. 

The  sun  was  welcome  to  him.  There  were  life  and  mo- 
tion, and  a  world  astir,  to  divide  the  attention  of  day. 
It  was  the  eye  of  night  :  of  wakeful,  watchful,  silent,  and 
attentive  night,  with  so  much  leisure  for  the  observation  of 
his  wicked  thoughts  ;  that  he  dreaded  most.  There  is  no 
glare  in  the  night.  Even  glory  shows  to  small  advantage  in 
the  night,  upon  a  crowded  battle-field.  How  then  shows 
glory's  blood  relation,  bastard  murder  ! 

Ay  !  He  made  no  compromise,  and  held  no  secret  with 
himself  now.     Murder.     He  had  come  to  do  it. 

"  Let  me  get  down  here,"  he  said. 

"  Short  of  the  town,  eh  ?  "  observed  the  coachman. 

"  I  ma}^  get  down  where  I  please,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  You  got  up  to  please  yourself,  and  may  get  down  to 
please  yourself.  It  won't  break  our  hearts  to  lose  you,  and 
it  wouldn't  have  broken  'em  if  we'd  never  found  you. 
Be  a  little  quicker.     That's  all." 

The  guard  had  alighted,  and  was  waiting  in  the  road  to 
take  his  money.  In  the  jealousy  and  distrust  of  what  he 
contemplated,  he  thought  this  man  looked  at  him  with  more 
than  common  curiosity. 

"  What  are  you  staring  at  ?  "  said  Jonas. 

''  Not  at  a  handsone  man,"  returned  the  guard.  "  If  you 
want  your  fortune  told,  I'll  tell  you  a  bit  of  it.  You  won't 
be  drowned.     That's  a  consolation  for  you." 

Before  he  could  retort  or  turn  away,  the  coachman  put 
an  end  to  the  dialogue  by  giving  him  a  cut  with  his  whip, 
and  bidding  him  get  out  for  a  surly  dog.  The  guard  jumped 
up  to  his  seat  at  the  same  moment,  and  they  drove  off,  laugh- 
ing ;  leaving  him  to  stand  in  the  road,  and  shake  his  fist  at 
them.  He  was  not  displeased  though,  on  second  thoughts, 
to  have  been  taken  for  an  ill-conditioned  common  country- 
fellow  ;  but  rather  congratulated  himself  upon  it  as  a  proof 
that  he  was  well  disguised. 


7i6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Wandering  into  a  copse  by  the  road-side — but  not  in  that 
place  :  two  or  three  miles  off — he  tore  out  from  a  fence  a 
thick,  hard,  knotted  stick  ;  and,  sitting  down  beneath  a  hay- 
rick, spent  some  time  in  shaping  it,  in  peeUng  off  the  bark, 
and  fashioning  its  jagged  head,  with  his  knife. 

The  day  passed  on.     Noon,  afternoon,  evening.     Sunset. 

At  that  serene  and  peaceful  time  two  men,  riding  in  a  gig, 
came  out  of  the  city  by  a  road  not  much  frequented.  It 
was  the  day  on  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  agreed  to  dine 
with  Montague.  He  had  kept  his  appointment,  and  was 
now  going  home.  His  host  was  riding  with  him  for  a  short 
distance  ;  meaning  to  return  by  a  pleasant  track,  which  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  engaged  to  show  him,  through  some  fields. 
Jonas  knew  their  plans.  He  had  hung  about  the  inn-yard 
while  they  were  at  dinner  and  had  heard  their  orders  given. 

They  were  loud  and  merry  in  their  conversation,  and 
might  have  been  heard  at  some  distance  :  far  above  the 
'sound  of  their  carriage  wheels  or  horses*  hoofs.  They 
came  on  noisily,  to  where  a  stile  and  footpath  indicated 
their  point  of  separation.     Here  they  stopped. 

"  It's  too  soon.  Much  too  soon,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
'^  But  this  is  the  place,  my  dear  sir.  Keep  the  path,  and  go 
straight  through  the  little  wood  you'll  come  to.  The  path  is 
narrow  there,  but  you  can't  miss  it.  When  shall  I  see  you 
again  ?     Soon  I  hope  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Montague. 

"  Good-night  !  " 

*'  Good-night,  and  a  pleasant  ride  ! " 

So  long  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  sight,  and  turned  his 
head,  at  intervals,  to  salute  him,  Montague  stood  in  the 
road  smiling,  and  waving  his  hand.  But  when  his  new 
partner  had  disappeared,  and  this  show  was  no  longer  neces- 
sary, he  sat  down  on  the  stile  with  looks  so^  altered,  that  he 
might  have  grown  ten  years  older  in  the  meantime. 

He  was  flushed  with  wine,  but  not  gay.  Plis  scheme  had 
succeeded,  but  he  showed  no  triumph.  The  effort  of  sustain- 
ing his  difficult  part  before  his  late  companion  had  fatigued 
him,  perhaps,  or  it  may  be,  that  the  evening  whispered  to 
his  conscience,  or  it  may  be  (as  it  has  been)  that  a  shadowy 
veil  was  dropping  round  him,  closing  out  all  thoughts  but 
the  presentiment  and  vague  foreknowledge  of  impending 
doom. 

If  there  be  fluids,  as  we  know  there  are,  which,  conscious 
of  a  coming  wind,  or  rain  or  frost,  will  shrink  and  strive  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  717 

hide  themselves  in  their  glass  arteries  ;  may  not  that  subtle 
liquor  of  the  blood  perceive,  by  properties  within  itself,  that 
hands  are  raised  to  waste  and  spill  it  ;  and  in  the  veins  of 
men  run  cold  and  dull  as  his  did,  in  that  hour  ! 

So  cold,  although  the  air  was  warm  :  so  dull,  although  the 
sky  was  bright  :  that  he  rose  up  shivering,  from  his  seat,  and 
hastily  resumed  his  walk.  He  checked  himself  as  hastily  : 
undecided  whether  to  pursue  the  footpath  which  was  lonely 
and  retired,  or  to  go  back  by  the  road. 

He  took  the  footpath. 

The  glory  of  the  departing  sun  was  on  his  face.  The 
music  of  the  birds  was  in  his  ears.  Sweet  wild  flowers 
bloomed  about  him.  Thatched  roofs  of  poor  men's  homes 
were  in  the  distance  ;  and  an  old  gray  spire,  surmounted  by 
a  cross,  rose  up  between  him  and  the  coming  night. 

He  had  never  read  the  lesson  which  these  things  con- 
veyed ;  he  had  ever  mocked  and  turned  away  from  it  ;  but, 
before  going  down  into  a  hollow  place,  he  looked  round, 
once,  upon  the  evening  prospect,  sorrowfully.  Then  He  went 
down,  down,  into  the  dell. 

It  brought  him  to  the  wood  ;  a  close,  thick,  shadowy 
wood,  through  which  the  path  went  winding  on,  dwindling 
away  into  a  slender  sheep-track.  He  paused  before  enter- 
ing ;  for  the  stillness  of  this  spot  almost  daunted  him. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  in,  aslant,  making 
a  path  of  golden  light  along  the  stems  and  branches  in  its 
range,  which,  even  as  he  looked,  began  to  die  away,  yielding 
gently  to  the  twilight  that  came  creeping  on.  It  was  so 
very  quiet  that  the  soft  and  stealthy  moss  about  the  trunks 
of  some  old  trees,  seemed  to  have  grown  out  of  the  silence, 
and  to  be  its  proper  offspring.  Those  other  trees  which 
were  subdued  by  blasts  of  wind  in  winter  time,  had  not 
quite  tumbled  down,  but  being  caught  by  others,  lay  all 
bare  and  scathed  across  their  leafy  arms,  as  if  unwilling  ^to 
disturb  the  general  repose  by  the  crash  of  their  fall.  Vistas 
of  silence  opened  everywhere,  into  the  heart  and  innermost 
recesses  of  the  wood  :  beginning  with  the  likeness  of  an 
aisle,  a  cloister,  or  a  ruin  open  to  the  sky  :  then  tangling 
off  into  a  deep  green  rustling  mystery,  through  which 
gnarled  trunks,  and  twisted  boughs,  and  ivy-colored  stems, 
and  trembling  leaves,  and  bark-stripped  bodies  of  old  trees 
stretched  out  at  length,  were  faintly  seen  in  beautiful  con- 
fusion. 

As   the  sunlight  died  away,   and  evening  fell  upon  the 


7i8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

wood,  he  entered  it.  Moving  here  and  there,  a  bramble  or 
a  drooping  bough  which  stretched  across  his  path,  he 
slowly  disappeared.  At  intervals  a  narrow  opening  showed 
him  passing  on,  or  the  sharp  cracking  of  some  tender  branch 
denoted  where  he  went :  then,  he  was  seen  or  heard  no  more. 

Never  more  beheld  by  mortal  eye  or  heard  by  mortal  ear;- 
one  man  excepted.  That  man,  parting  the  leaves  and  branches 
on  the  other  side,  near  where  the  path  emerged  again,  came 
leaping  out  soon  afterward. 

What  had  he  left  within  the  wood,  that  he  sprang  out  of 
it,  as  if  it  were  a  hell ! 

The  body  of  a  murdered  man.  In  one  thick  solitary 
spot,  it  lay  among  the  last  year's  leaves  of  oak  and  beech, 
just  as  it  had  fallen  headlong  down.  Sopping  and  soaking 
in  among  the  leaves  that  formed  its  pillow  :  oozing  down 
into  the  boggy  ground,  as  if  to  cover  itself  from  human 
sight  ;  forcing  its  way  between  and  through  the  curling 
leaves,  as  if  those  senseless  things  rejected  and  foreswore  it, 
and  we're  coiled  up  in  abhorrence  ;  went  a  dark,  dark  stain 
that  dyed  the  whole  summer  night  from  earth  to  heaven. 

The  doer  of  this  deed  came  leaping  from  the  wood  so 
fiercely,  that  he  cast  into  the  air  a  shower  of  fragments  of 
young  boughs,  torn  away  in  his  passage,  and  fell  with  vio- 
lence upon  the  grass.  But  he  quickly  gained  his  feet  again, 
and  keeping  underneath  a  hedge  with  his  body  bent  went 
running  on  toward  the  road.  The  road  once  reached,  he 
fell  into  a  rapid  walk,  and  set  on  toward  London. 

And  he  was  not  sorry  for  what  he  had  done.  He  was 
frightened  when  he  thought  of  it — when  did  he  not  think  of 
it  ! — but  he  was  not  sorry.  He  had  had  a  terror  and  dread 
of  the  wood  when  he  was  in  it ;  but  being  out  of  it,  and 
having  committed  the  crime,  his  fears  were  now  diverted 
strangely,  to  the  dark  room  he  had  left  shut  up  at  home. 
He  had  a  greater  horror,  infinitely  greater,  of  that  room 
than  of  the  wood.  Now  that  he  was  on  his  return  to  it,  it 
seemed  beyond  comparison  more  dismal  and  more  dreadful 
than  the  wood.  His  hideous  secret  was  shut  up  in  the  room, 
and  all  its  terrors  were  there;  to  his  thinking  it  was  not  in 
the  wood  at  all. 

He  walked  on  for  ten  miles  ;  and  then  stopped  at  an  ale- 
house for  a  coach,  which  he  knew  would  pass  through  on  its 
way  to  London,  before  long;  and  which  he  also  knew  was 
not  the  coach  he  had  traveled  down  by,  for  it  came  from 
another  place.     He   sat  down  outside  the  door  here,  on  a 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  719 

bench,  beside  a  man  who  was  smoking  his  pipe.  Having 
called  for  some  beer,  and  drunk,  he  offered  it  to  his  com- 
panion, who  thanked  him,  and  took  a  draught.  He  could 
not  help  thinking  that,  if  the  man  had  known  all,  he  might 
scarcely  have  relished  drinking  out  of  the  same  cup  with 
him. 

"A  fine  night,  master  !  "  said  this  person.  "And  a  rare 
sunset." 

"  I  didn't  see  it,"  was  his  hasty  answer. 

"  Didn't  see  it  ?  "  returned  the  man. 

"  How  the  devil  could  I  see  it  if  I  was  asleep  ?  " 

"Asleep  !  Ay,  ay!"  The  man  seemed  surprised  by  his 
unexpected  irritability,  and  saying  no  more,  smoked  his  pipe 
in  silence.  They  had  not  sat  very  long,  when  there  was  a 
knocking  within. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  Jonas. 

"Can't  say,  I'm  sure,"  replied  the  man. 

He  made  no  further  inquiry,  for  the  last  question  had  es- 
caped him  in  spite  of  himself.  But  he  was  thinking,  at  the 
moment,  of  the  closed-up  room  ;  of  the  possibility  of  their 
knocking  at  the  door  on  some  special  occasion  ;  of  their  be- 
ing alarmed  at  receiving  no  answer  ;  of  their  bursting  it 
open  ;  of  their  finding  the  room  empty  ;  of  their  fastening 
the  door  into  the  court,  and  rendering  it  impossible  for  him 
to  get  into  the  house,  without  showing  himself  in  the  garb 
he  wore  ;  which  would  lead  to  rumor,  rumor  to  detection, 
detection  to  death.  At  that  instant,  as  if  by  design  and 
order  of  circumstances,  the  knocking  had  come. 

It  still  continued;  like  a  warning  echo  of  the  dread  reality 
he  had  conjured  up.  As  he  could  not  sit  and  hear  it,  he 
paid  for  his  beer  and  walked  on  again.  And  having  slunk 
about,  in  places  unknown  to  him,  all  day  ;  and  being  out  at 
night  in  a  lonely  road,  in  an  unusual  dress,  and  in  that  wan- 
dering and  unsettled  frame  of  mind  ;  he  stopped  more  than 
once  to  look  about  him,  hoping  he  might  be  in  a  dream. 

Still  he  was  not  sorry.  No.  He  had  hated  the  man  too 
much,  and  had  been  bent,  too  desperately  and  too  long,  on 
setting  himself  free.  If  the  thing  could  have  come  over 
again,  he  would  have  done  it  again.  His  malignant  and  re- 
vengeful passions  were  not  so  easily  laid.  There  was  no 
more  penitence  or  remorse  within  him  now,  than  there  had 
been  while  the  deed  was  brewing. 

Dread  and  fear  were  upon  him.  To  an  extent  he  had 
never  counted  on,  and  could  not  manage  in  the  least  degree. 


720  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

He  was  so  horribly  afraid  of  that  infernal  room  at  home. 
This  made  him  in  a  gloomy,  murderous,  mad  way,  not  only 
fearful/(?/-  himself  but  of  himself  ;  for  being,  as  it  were,  a  part 
of  the  room  :  a  something  supposed  to  be  there,  yet  missing 
from  it:  he  invested  himself  with  its  mysterious  terrors;  and 
when  he  pictured  in  his  mind  the  ugly  chamber,  false  and 
quiet,  false  and  quiet,  through  the  dark  hours  of  two  nights; 
and  the  tumbled  bed,  and  he  not  in  it,  though  believed  to 
be  ;  he  became  in  a  manner  his  own  ghost  and  phantom, 
and  was  at  once  the  haunting  spirit  and  the  haunted  man. 
When  the  coach  came  up,  which  it  soon  did,  he  got  a 
place  outside,  and  was  carried  briskly  onward  toward  home. 
Now,  in  taking  his  seat  among  the  people  behind,  who  were 
chiefly  country  people,  he  conceived  a  fear  that  they  knew 
of  the  murder,  and  would  te/l  Aim  that  the  body  had  been 
found  ;  which,  considering  the  time  and  place  of  the  com- 
mission of  the  crime,  were  events  almost  impossible  to  have 
happened  yet,  as  he  very  well  knew.  But,  although  he  did 
know  it,  and  had  therefore  no  reason  to  regard  their  igno- 
rance as  any  thing  but  the  natural  sequence  to  the  facts,  still 
this  very  ignorance  of  theirs  encouraged  him.  So  far  en- 
couraged him,  that  he  began  to  believe  the  body  never  would 
be  found,  and  began  to  speculate  on  that  probability.  Set- 
ting off  from  this  point,  and  measuring  time  by  the  rapid 
hurry  of  his  guilty  thoughts,  and  what  had  gone  before  the 
bloodshed,  and  the  troops  of  incoherent  and  disordered 
images,  of  which  he  was  the  constant  prey  ;  he  came  by  day- 
light to  regard  the  murder  as  an  old  murder,  and  to  think 
himself  comparatively  safe,  because  it  had  not  been  discov- 
ered yet.  Yet !  When  the  sun  which  looked  into  the  wood, 
and  gilded  with  its  rising  light  a  dead  man's  face,  had  seen 
that  man  alive,  and  sought  to  win  him  to  a  thought  of  heaven, 
on  its  going  down  last  night  ! 

But  here  were  London  streets  again.  Hush  !  ' 
It  was  but  five  o'clock.  He  had  time  enough  to  reach  his 
own  house  unobserved,  and  before  there  were  many  people 
in  the  streets,  if  nothing  had  happened  so  far,  tending  to  his 
discovery.  He  slipped  down  from  the  coach  without  troub- 
ling the  driver  to  stop  his  horses  :  and  hurrying  across  the 
road,  and  in  and  out  of  every  by-way  that  kiy  near  his  course, 
at  length  approached  his  own  dwelling.  He  used  additional 
caution  in  his  immediate  neighborhood  ;  halting  first  to  look 
all  down  the  street  before  him  ;  then  gliding  swiftly  through 
that  one,  and  stopping  to  survey  the  next  ;  and  so  on. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  721 

The  passage-way  was  empty  when  his  murderer's  face 
looked  into  it.  He  stole  on  to  the  door,  on  tiptoe,  as  if  he 
dreaded  to  disturb  his  own  imaginary  rest. 

He  listened.  Not  a  sound.  As  he  turned  the  key  with  a 
trembling  hand,  and  pushed  the  door  softly  open  with  his 
knee,  ?,  monstrous  fear  beset  his  mind. 

What  if  the  murdered  man  were  there  before  him  ! 

He  cast  a  fearful  glance  all  round.  But  there  was  noth- 
ing there. 

He  went  in,  locked  the  door,  drew  the  key  through  and 
through  the  dust  and  damp  in  the  fire-place  to  sully  it  again, 
and  hung  it  up  as  of  old.  He  took  off  his  disguise,  tied  it 
up  in  a  bundle  ready  for  carrying  away  and  sinking  in  the 
river  before  night,  and  locked  it  up  in  a  cupboard.  These 
precautions  taken,  he  undressed,  and  went  to  bed. 

The  raging  thirst,  the  fire  that  burned  within  him  as  he  lay 
beneath  the  clothes,  the  augmented  horror  of  the  room,  when 
they  shut  it  out  from  his  view  ;  the  agony  of  listening,  in 
which  he  paid  enforced  regard  to  every  sound,  and  thought 
the  most  unlikely  one  the  prelude  to  that  knocking  which 
should  bring  the  news  ;  the  starts  with  which  he  left  his 
couch,  and  looking  in  the  glass,  imagined  that  his  deed  was 
broadly  written  in  his  face,  and  lying  down  and  burying  him- 
self once  more  beneath  the  blankets,  heard  his  own  heart 
beating  murder,  murder,  murder,  in  the  bed  ;  what  words 
can  paint  tremendous  truths  like  these  ! 

The  morning  advanced.  There  were  footsteps  in  the 
house.  He  heard  the  blinds  drawn  up,  and  shutters  opened; 
and  now  and  then  a  stealthy  tread  outside  his  own  door. 
He  tried  to  call  out,  more  than  once,  but  his  mouth  was  dry 
as  if  it  had  been  filled  with  sand.  At  last  he  sat  up  in  his 
bed,  and  cried  : 

"  Who's  there  ?  " 

It  was  his  wife. 

He  asked  her  what  it  was  o'clock  ?     Nine. 

*'  Did — did  no  one  knock  at  my  door  yesterday  ? "  he  fal- 
tered. "  Something  disturbed  me  ;  but  unless  you  had 
knocked  the  door  down,  you  would  have  got  no  notice  from 
me." 

"  No  one,"  she  replied.  That  was  well.  He  had  waited, 
almost  breathless,  for  her  answer.  It  was  a  relief  to  him,  if 
any  thing  could  be. 

"  Mr.  Nadgett  wanted  to  see  you,"  she  said,  ''but  I  tcJtd 
him  you  were  tired,  and  had  requested  not  to  be  disturbed. 


7*4—  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

BEARS  TIDINGS  OF  MARTIN,  AND  OF  MARK,  AS  WELL  AS  OF  A 
THIRD  PERSON  NOT  QUITE  UNKNOWN  TO  THE  READER. 
EXHIBITS  FILIAL  PIETY  IN  AN  UGLY  ASPECT  ;  AND  CASTS 
A    DOUBTFUL    RAY    OF  LIGHT     UPON  A  VERY  DARK  PLACE. 

Tom  Pinch  and  Ruth  were  sitting  at  their  early  breakfast, 
with  the  window  open,  and  a  row  of  the  freshest  little  plants 
ranged  before  it  on  the  inside  by  Ruth's  own  hands  ;  and 
Ruth  had  fastened  a  sprig  of  geranium  in  Tom's  button-hole, 
to  make  him  very  smart  and  summer-like  for  the  day  (it 
was  obliged  to  be  fastened  in,  or  that  dear  old  Tom  was  cer- 
tain to  lose  it )  ;  and  people  were  crying  flowers  up  and 
down  the  street  ;  and  a  blundering  bee,  who  had  got  him- 
self in  between  the  two  sashes  of  the  window,  was  bruising 
his  head  against  the  glass,  endeavoring  to  force  himself  out 
into  the  fine  morning,  and  considering  himself  enchanted 
because  he  couldn't  do  it  ;  and  the  morning  was  as  fine  a 
morning,  as  ever  was  seen  ;  and  the  fragrant  air  was  kissing 
Ruth  and  rustling  about  Tom,  as  if  it  said,  "  How  are  you, 
my  dears  ?  I  came  all  this  way  on  purpose  to  salute  you  ;  " 
and  it  was  one  of  those  glad  times  when  we  form,  or  ought 
to  form,  the  wish  that  every  one  on  earth  were  able  to  be 
happy,  and  catching  glimpses  of  the  summer  of  the  heart,  to 
feel  the  beauty  of  the  summer  of  the  year. 

It  was  even  a  pleasanter  breakfast  than  usual  ;  and  it  was 
always  a  pleasant  one.  For  little  Ruth  had  now  two  pupils 
to  attend,  each  three  times  a  week,  and  each  two  hours  at  a 
time  ;  and  besides  this,  she  had  painted  some  screens  and 
card-racks,  and,  unknown  to  Tom  (was  there  ever  any  thing 
so  delightful  !  )  had  walked  into  a  certain  shop  which  dealt 
in  such  articles,  after  often  peeping  through  the  window  ; 
and  had  taken  courage  to  ask  the  mistress  of  that  shop 
whether  she  would  buy  them.  And  the  mistress  had  not 
only  bought  them,  but  had  ordered  more  ;  and  that  very 
morning  Ruth  had  made  confession  of  these  facts  to  Tom, 
and  had  handed  him  the  money  in  a  little  purse  she  had 
worked  expressly  for  the  purpose.  They  had  been  in  a 
flutter  about  this,  and  perhaps  had  shed  a  happy  tear  or  two 
for  any  thing  the  history  knows  to  the  contrary  ;  but  it  was 
all  over  now  ;  and  a  brighter  face  than  Tom's  or  a  brighter 
face  than  Ruth's  tlie  bright  sun  had  not  looked  on,  since  he 
went  to  bed  last  night. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  -^jo^ 

He  said  it  was  of  little  consequence,  and  went  away.  As  I 
was  opening  my  window,  to  let  in  the  cool  air,  I  saw  him 
passing  through  the  street  this  morning,  very  early  ;  but  he 
hasn't  been  again." 

Passing  through  the  street  that  morning  ?  Very  early  ! 
Jonas  trembled  at  the  thought  of  having  had  a  narrow  chance 
of  seeing  him  himself  :  even  him,  who  had  no  object  but  to 
avoid  people,  and  sneak  on  observed,  and  keep  his  own 
secrets  ;  and  who  saw  nothing. 

He  called  to  her  to  get  his  breakfast  ready,  and  prepared 
to  go  up  stairs  :  attiring  himself  in  the  clothes  he  had  taken 
off  when  he  came  into  that  room,  which  had  been,  ever  since, 
outside  the  door.  In  his  secret  dread  of  meeting  the  house- 
hold for  the  first  time,  after  what  he  had  done,  he  lingered 
at  the  door  on  slight  pretexts  that  they  might  see  him  without 
looking  in  his  face  ;  and  left  it  ajar  while  he  dressed  ;  and 
called  out  to  have  the  windows  opened,  and  the  pavement 
watered,  that  they  might  become  accustomed  to  his  voice. 
Even  when  he  had  put  off  the  time,  by  one  means  or  other, 
so  that  he  had  seen  or  spoken  to  them  all,  he  could  not 
muster  courage  for  a  long  while  to  go  in  among  them,  but 
stood  at  his  own  door  listening  to  the  murmur  of  their  dis- 
tant conversation. 

He  could  not  stop  there  forever,  and  so  joined  them. 
His  last  glance  at  the  glass  had  seen  a  tell-tale  face,  but 
that  might  have  been  because  of  his  anxious  looking  in  it. 
He  dared  not  look  at  them  to  see  if  they  observed  him,  but 
he  thought  them  very  silent. 

And  whatsoever  guard  he  kept  upon  himself,  he  could  not 
help  listening,  and  showing  that  he  listened.  Whether  he 
attended  to  their  talk,  or  tried  to  think  of  other  things,  or 
talked  himself,  or  held  his  peace,  or  resolutely  counted  the 
dull  tickings  of  a  hoarse  clock,  at  his  back,  he  always  lapsed 
as  if  a  spell  were  on  him,  into  eager  listening  ;  for  he  knew 
it  must  come  ;  and  his  present  punishment,  and  torture,  and 
distraction,  were,  to  listen  for  its  coming. 

Hush  ! 


724  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Tom,  coming  so  abruptly  on  the 
subject  that  he  interrupted  himself  in  the  act  of  cutting  a 
slice  of  bread,  and  left  the  knife  sticking  in  the  loaf,  *'  what 
a  queer  fellow  our  landlord  is  !  I  don't  believe  he  has  been 
home  once,  since  he  got  me  into  that  unsatisfactory  scrape. 
I  begin  to  think  he  will  never  come  home  again.  What  a 
mysterious  life  that  man  does  lead,  to  be  sure  !  " 

"  Very  strange.     Is  it  not,  Tom  ? " 

**  Really,"  said  Tom.  ''  I  hope  it  is  only  strange.  I  hope 
there  may  be  nothing  wrong  in  it.  Sometimes  I  begin  to  be 
doubtful  of  that.  I  must  have  an  explanation  with  him," 
said  Tom,  shaking  his  head  as  if  this  were  a  most  tremen- 
dous threat,  ''  when  I  can  catch  him  !  " 

A  short  double  knock  at  the  door  put  Tom's  menacing 
looks  to  flight,  and  awakened  an  expression  of  surprise 
instead. 

"  Heyday  !  "  said  Tom.  "  An  early  hour  for  visitors  !  It 
must  be  John,  I  suppose." 

^'  I — I — don't  think  it  was  his  knock,  Tom,"  observed  his 
little  sister. 

"  No  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  It  surely  can't  be  my  employer, 
suddenly  arrived  in  town  ;  directed  here  by  Mr.  Fips  ;  and 
come  for  the  key  of  the  office.  It's  somebody  inquiring  for 
me,  I  declare  !     Come  in,  if  you  please  !  " 

But  when  the  person  came  in,  Tom  Pinch,  instead  of  say- 
ing, "  Did  you  wnsh  to  speak  with  me,  sir  ?"  or,  ''  My  name 
is  Pinch,  sir  :  what  is  your  business,  may  I  ask  ?  "  or  address- 
ing him  in  any  such  distant  terms  ;  cried  out,  "  Good  gra- 
cious Heaven  !  "  and  seized  him  by  both  hands,  with  the  live- 
liest manifestations  of  astonishment  and  pleasure. 

The  visitor  was  not  less  moved  than  Tom  himself,  and 
they  shook  hands  a  great  many  times,  without  another  word 
being  spoken  on  either  side.  Tom  was  the  first  to  find  his 
voice. 

"  Mark  Tapley,  too  !  "  said  Tom,  running  toward  the 
door,  and  shaking  hands  with  somebody  else.  "  My  dear 
Mark,  come  in.  How  are  you,  Mark?  He  don't  look  a  day 
older  than  he  used  to  do,  at  the  Dragon.  How  are  you, 
Mark  !  " 

"  Uncommonly  jolly,  sir,  thank'ee,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley, 
all  smiles  and  bows.     *'  I  hope  I  see  you  well,  sir." 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom,  patting  him  tenderly 
on  the  back.  "  How  delightful  it  is  to  hear  his  old  voice 
again  !     My  dear  Martin,  sit  down.    My  sister,  Martin,    Mr. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  725 

Chuzzlewit,  my  love.  Mark  Tapley  from  the  Dragon,  my 
dear,  (iood  gracious  me,  what  a  surprise  this  is!  Sit  down. 
Lord  bless  me  !  " 

Tom  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  he  couldn't 
keep  himself  still  for  a  moment,  but  was  constantly  running 
between  Mark  and  Martin,  shaking  hands  with  them 
alternately,  and  presenting  them  over  and  over  again  to  his 
sister. 

"  I  remember  the  day  we  parted,  Martin,  as  well  as  if  it 
were  yesterday,"  said  Tom.  "  What  a  day  it  was  !  and  what 
a  passion  you  were  in  !  And  don't  you  remember  my  over- 
taking you  in  the  road  that  morning,  Mark,  when  I  was  going 
to  Salisbury  in  the  gig  to  fetch  him,  and  you  were  looking 
out  for  a  situation  !  And  don't  you  recollect  the  dinner  we 
had  at  Salisbury,  Martin,  with  John  Westlock,  eh  ?  Good 
gracious  me  !  Ruth,  my  dear,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Mark  Tap- 
ley,  my  love,  from  the  Dragon,  More  cups  and  saucers,  if 
you  please.  Bless  my  soul  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you 
both  !  " 

And  then  Tom  (as  John  Westlock  had  done  on  his  arrival) 
ran  off  to  the  loaf  to  cut  some  bread  and  butter  for  them  ; 
and  before  he  had  spread  a  single  slice,  remembered  some- 
thing else,  and  came  running  back  again  to  tell  it ;  and  then 
he  shook  hands  with  them  again  ;  and  then  he  introduced 
his  sister  again  ;  and  then  he  did  every  thing  he  had  done 
already  all  over  again  ;  and  nothing  Tom  could  do,  and 
nothing  Tom  could  say,  was  half  sufficient  to  express  his  joy 
at  their  safe  return. 

Mr.  Tapley  was  the  first  to  resume  his  composure.  In  a 
very  short  space  of  time,  he  was  discovered  to  have  somehow 
installed  himself  in  office  as  waiter,  or  attendant  upon  the 
party  ;  a  fact  which  was  first  suggested  to  them  by  his  tempo- 
rary absence  in  the  kitchen,  and  speedy  return  with  a  kettle 
of  boiling  water,  from  which  he  replenished  the  tea-pot  with 
a  self-possession  that  was  quite  his  own. 

"  Sit  down  and  take  your  breakfast,  Mark,"  said  Tom. 
"  Make  him  sit  down  and  take  his  breakfast,  Martin."  , 

'*  Oh  !  I  gave  him  up  long  ago,  as  incorrigible,"  Martin 
replied.  "  He  takes  his  own  way,  Tom.  You  would  excuse 
him.  Miss  Pinch,  if  you  knew  his  value." 

"  She  knows  it,  bless  you  !  "  said  Tom.  "  I  have  told  her 
all  about  Mark  Tapley.     Have  I  not,  Ruth  ?  " 

"Yes,  Tom." 

*'  Not  all/'  returned  Martin,  in  alow  voice,     "  The  best  of 


726  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mark  Tapley  is  only  known  to  one  man,  Tom  ;  and  but  for 
Mark  he  would  hardly  be  alive  to  tell  it." 

"  Mark  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch  energetically,  *'  if  you  don't  sit 
down  this  minute,  I'll  swear  at  you  !  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  "  sooner  than  you  should 
do  that,  I'll  com-ply.  It's  a  considerable  invasion  of  a  man's 
jollity  to  be  made  so  partickler  welcome,  but  a  werb  is  a  word 
as  signifies  to  be,  to  do,  or  to  suffer  (which  is  all  the  grammar, 
and  enough  too,  as  ever  I  was  taught)  ;  and  if  there's  a  werb 
alive,  I'm  it.  For  I'm  always  a  bein',  sometimes  a  doin', 
and  continually  a  sufferin'." 

"  Not  jolly  yet  ? "  asked  Tom,  with  a  smile. 

"Why,  I  was  rather  so,  over  the  water,  sir,"  returned  Mr. 
Tapley ;  "  and  not  entirely  without  credit.  But  human 
natur'  is  in  a  conspiracy  again'  me  ;  I  can't  get  on.  I  shall 
have  to  leave  it  in  my  will,  sir,  to  be  wrote  upon  my  tomb  : 
*  He  was  a  man  as  might  have  come  out  strong  if  he  could 
have  got  a  chance.     But  it  was  denied  him.'  " 

Mr.  Tapley  took  this  occasion  of  looking  about  him  with 
a  grin,  and  subsequently  attacking  the  breakfast  with  an 
appetite  not  at  all  expressive  of  blighted  hopes,  or  insur- 
mountable despondency. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Martin  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer  to 
Tom  and  his  sister,  and  related  to  them  what  had  passed  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  ;  adding  in  a  few  words  a  general  sum- 
mary of  the  distresses  and  disappointments  he  had  under- 
gone since  he  left  England. 

"  For  your  faithful  stewardship  in  the  trust  I  left  with  you, 
Tom,"  he  said,  "  and  for  all  your  goodness  and  disinterest- 
edness, I  can  never  thank  you  enough.  When  I  add  Mary's 
thanks  to  mine " 

Ah,  Tom  !  The  blood  retreated  from  his  cheeks,  and 
came  rushing  back,  so  violently,  that  it  was  pain  to  feel  it  ; 
ease  though,  ease,  compared  with  the  aching  of  his  wounded 
heart. 

"  When  I  add  Mary's  thanks  to  mine,"  said  Martin,  "  I 
have  made  the  only  poor  acknowledgment  it  is  in  our  power 
to  offer  ;  but  if  you  knew  how  much  we  feel,  Tom,  you 
would  set  some  store  by  it,  I  am  sure." 

And  if  they  had  known  liow  much  Tom  felt — but  that  no 
human  creature  ever  knew — they  would  have  set  some  store 
by  him.     Indeed  they  would. 

Tom  changed  the  toj.uc  of  discourse.  He  was  sorry  he 
could  not  pursue  it,  as  it  gave  Martin  pleasure  ;  but  he  was 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  727 

unable,  at  that  moment.  No  drop  of  envy  or  bitternes,  was 
in  his  soul ;  but  he  could  not  master  the  firm  utterance  of 
her  name. 

He  inquired  what  Martin's  projects  were. 
"  No  longer  to  make  your  fortune,  Tom,"  said  Martin, 
**  but  to  try  to  live.  I  tried  that  once  in  London,  Tom  ; 
and  failed.  If  you  will  give  me  the  benefit  of  your  advice 
and  friendly  counsel,  I  may  succeed  better  under  your  guid- 
ance. I  will  do  any  thing,  Tom,  any  thing,  to  gain  a  liveli- 
hood by  my  own  exertions.  My  hopes  do  not  soar  above 
that,  now." 

High-hearted,  noble  Tom  !  Sorry  to  find  the  pride  of  his 
old  companion  humbled,  and  to  hear  him  speaking  in  this 
altered  strain,  at  once,  at  once,  he  drove  from  his  breast  the 
inability  to  contend  with  its  deep  emotions,  and  spoke  out 
bravely. 

"  Your  hopes  do  not  soar  above  that  ! "  cried  Tom. 
"  Yes,  they  do.  How  can  you  talk  so  !  They  soar  up  to  the 
time  when  you  will  be  happy  with  her,  Martin.  They  soar 
up  to  the  time  when  you  will  be  able  to  claim  her,  Martin.  They 
soar  up  to  the  time  when  you  will  not  be  able  to  believe  that 
you  were  ever  cast  down  in  spirit,  or  poor  in  pocket,  Mar- 
tin. Advice,  and  friendly  counsel  !  Why,  of  course.  But 
you  shall  have  better  advice  and  counsel  (though  you  can 
not  have  more  friendly)  than  mine.  You  shall  consult  John 
Westlock.  We'll  go  there  immediately.  It  is  yet  so  early 
that  I  shall  have  time  to  take  you  to  his  chambers  before  I 
go  to  business  ;  they  are  in  my  way  ;  and  I  can  leave  you 
there,  to  talk  over  your  affairs  with  him.  So  come  along. 
Come  along.  I  am  a  man  of  occupation  now,  you  know," 
said  Tom,  with  his  pleasantest  smile  ;  ''  and  have  no  time  to 
lose.  Your  hopes  don't  soar  higher  than  that  ?  I  dare  say 
they  don't.  /  know  you  pretty  well.  They'll  be  soaring  out 
of  sight  soon,  Martin,  and  leaving  all  the  rest  of  us  leagues 
behind." 

"  Ay  !  But  I  may  be  a  little  changed,"  said  Martin, 
"  since  you  knew  me  pretty  well,  Tom." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Why  should  you 
be  changed  ?  You  talk  as  if  you  were  an  old  man.  I  never 
heard  such  a  fellow  !  Come  to  John  Westlock's,  come. 
Come  along,  Mark  Tapley.  It's  Mark's  doing,  I  have  no 
doubt  ;  and  it  serves  you  right  for  having  such  a  grumbler 
for  your  companion." 

''  There's  no  credit  to  be  got  through  being  jolly  with  you, 


72S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Pinch,  anyways,"  said  Mark,  with  his  face  all  wrinkled 
up  with  grins.  '*A  parish  doctor  might  be  jolly  with  you. 
There's  nothing  short  of  goin'  to  the  U-nited  States  for  a 
second  trip,  as  would  make  it  at  all  creditable  to  be  jolly,  arter 
seein'  you  again  !  " 

Tom  laughed,  and  taking  leave  of  his  sister,  hurried  Mark 
and  Martin  out  into  the  street,  and  away  to  John  Westlock's 
by  the  nearest  road  ;  for  his  hour  of  business  was  very  near  at 
hand,  and  he  prided  himself  on  always  being  exact  to  his  time. 

John  Westlock  was  at  home,  but,  strange  to  say,  was 
rather  embarrassed  to  see  them  ;  and  when  Tom  was  about 
to  go  into  the  room  where  he  was  breakfasting,  said  he  had 
a  stranger  there.  It  appeared  to  be  a  mysterious  stranger, 
for  John  shut  that  door  as  he  said  it,  and  led  them  into  the 
next  room. 

He  was  very  much  delighted,  though,  to  see  Mark  Tapley  ; 
and  received  Martin  with  his  own  frank  courtesy.  But 
Martin  felt  that  he  did  not  inspire  John  Westlock  with  any 
unusual  interest  ;  and  twice  or  thrice  observed  that  he  looked 
at  Tom  Pinch  doubtfully  ;  not  to  say  compassionately.  He 
thought  and  blushed  to  think  that  he  knew  the  cause  of 
this. 

*'  I  apprehend  you  are  engaged,"  said  Martin,  when  Tom 
had  announced  the  purport  of  their  visit.  "  If  you  will 
allow  me  to  come  again  at  your  own  time,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
do  so." 

"  I  a7n  engaged,"  replied  John,  with  some  reluctance  ; 
"  but  the  matter  on  which  I  am  engaged  is  one,  to  say  the 
truth,  more  immediately  demanding  your  knowledge  than 
mine." 

"  Indeed  !  "   cried  Martin. 

"  It  relates  to  a  member  of  your  family,  and  is  of  a  serious 
nature.  If  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  remain  here,  it  will 
be  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  have  it  privately  communicated  to 
you,  in  order  that  you  may  judge  of  its  importance  for 
yourself." 

**  And  in  the  meantime,"  said  Tom,  *'  I  must  really  take 
myself  off,  without  any  further  ceremony." 

"  Is  your  business  so  very  particular,"  asked  Martin,  ''  that 
you  can  not  remain  with  us  for  half  an  hour  ?  I  wish  you 
could.     What  is  your  business,  Tom  ?  " 

It  was  Tom's  turn  to  be  embarrasse^d  now  ;  but  he  plainly 
said,  after  a  little  hesitation  : 

"  Why,  I  am  not  at   liberty   to   say  what   it  is,    Martin  ; 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  729 

though  I  hope  soon  to  be  in  a  condition  to  do  so,  and^am 
aware  of  no  other  reason  to  prevent  my  doing  so,  now,  than 
the  request  of  my  employer.  It's  an  awkward  position  to  be 
placed  in,"  said  Tom,  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  seeming  to 
doubt  his  friend,  "  as  I  feel  every  day  ;  but  I  really  can  not 
help  it,  can  I,  John  ?  " 

John  Westlock  replied  in  the  negative  ;  and  Martin, 
expressing  himself  perfectly  satisfied,  begged  them  not  to  say 
another  word  :  though  he  could  not  help  wondering  very 
much,  what  curious  office  Tom  held,  and  why  he  was  so 
secret,  and  embarrassed,  and  unlike  himself,  in  reference  to 
it.  Nor  could  he  help  reverting  to  it,  in  his  own  mind, 
several  times  after  Tom  went  away,  which  he  did  as  soon  as 
this  conversation  was  ended,  taking  Mr.  Tapley  with  him, 
who,  as  he  laughingly  said,  might  accompany  him  as  far  as 
Fleet  Street,  without  injury. 

'^  And  what  do  you  mean  to  do,  Mark  ?  "  asked  Tom,  as 
they  walked  on  together. 

"  Mean  to  do,  sir  ? "  returned  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Ay.     What  course  of  life  do  you  mean  to  pursue  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  The  fact  is,  that  I  have 
been  a-thinking  rather  of  the  matrimonial  line,  sir." 

"  You  don't  say  so,  Mark  !  "  cried  Tarn. 

"  Yes,  sir.     I've  been  a-turnin'  of  it  over," 

"  And  who  is  the  lady,  Mark  ?  " 

"  The  which,  sir?  "  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  The  lady.  Come  !  You  know  what  I  said,"  replied 
Tom,  laughing,  ''  as  well  as  I  do  !  " 

Mr.  Tapley  suppressed  his  own  inclination  to  laugh  ;  and, 
with  one  of  his  most  whimsically-twisted  looks,  replied, 

"  You  couldn't  guess,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  " 

"  How  is  it  possible  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  I  don't  know  any  of 
your  flames,  Mark.     Except  Mrs.  Lupin,  indeed." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  retorted  Mr.  Tapley.  "  And  supposing  it 
was  her  !  " 

Tom  stopping  in  the  street  to  look  at  him,  Mr.  Tapley  for 
a  moment  presented  to  his  view,  an  utterly  stolid  and 
expressionless  face  :  a  perfect  dead  wall  of  countenance. 
But  opening  window  after  window  in  it,  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  and  lighting  them  all  up  as  for  a  general  illumina- 
tion, he  repeated  : 

"  Supposin',  for  the  sake  of  argument,  as  it  was  her,  sir  !  " 

"  Why,   I  thought  such  a  connection  wouldn't  suit  you,  ■ 
Mark,  on  any  terms  !  "  cried  Tom. 


730  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"Well,  sir,  I  used  to  think  so  myself,  once,"  said  Mark. 
''  But  I  ain't  so  clear  about  it  now.  A  dear,  sweet  creetur, 
sir  !  " 

"  A  dear,  sweet  creature  ?  To  be  sure  she  is,"  cried  Tom. 
"  But  she  always  was  a  dear  sweet  creature,  was  she  not  ?  " 

"  IVas  she  not  !  "  assented  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Then  why  on  earth  didn't  you  marry  her  at  first,  Mark, 
instead  of  wandering  abroad,  and  losing  all  this  time,  and 
leaving  her  alone  by  herself,  liable  to  be  courted  by  other 
people  ? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  spirit  of  unbounded 
confidence,  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  come  about.  You  know  me, 
Mr.  Pinch,  sir;  there  ain't  a  gentleman  alive  as  knows  me 
better.  You're  acquainted  with  my  constitution,  and  you're 
acquainted  with  my  weakness.  My  constitution  is,  to  be 
jolly;  and  my  weakness  is,  to  wish  to  find  a  credit  in  it. 
Wery  good,  sir.  In  this  state  of  mind,  I  gets  a  notion  in  my 
head  that  she  looks  on  me  with  a  eye  of — with  what  you 
may  call  a  favorable  sort  of  eye  in  fact,"  said  Mr.  Tapley, 
with  modest  hesitation. 

''  No  doubt,"  replied  Tom.  "  We  knew  that  perfectly 
well  when  we  spoke  on  this  subject  long  ago;  before  you 
left  the  Dragon."     * 

Mr.  Tapley  nodded  assent.  "  Well,  sir  !  But  bein'  at 
that  time  full  of  hopeful  wisions,  I  arrives  at  the  conclusion 
that  no  credit  is  to  be  got  out  of  such  a  way  of  life  as  that, 
where  every  thing  agreeable  would  be  ready  to  one's  hand. 
Lookin'  on  the  bright  side  of'  human  life  in  short,  one  of  my 
hopeful  wisions  is,  that  there's  a  deal  of  misery  a-waitin'  for 
me;  in  the  midst  of  which  I  may  come  out  tolerable  strong, 
and  be  jolly  under  circumstances  as  reflects  some  credit.  I 
goes  into  the  world,  sir,  wery  boyant,  and  I  tries  this.  I  goes 
aboard  ship  first,  and  wery  soon  dfscovers  (by  the  ease  with 
which  I'm  jolly,  mind  you)  as  there's  no  credit  to  be  got 
t/iere.  I  might  have  took  warning  by  this,  and  gave  it  up; 
but  I  didn't.  I  gets  to  the  U-nited  States;  and  then  I  {/o 
begin,  I  won't  deny  it,  to  feel  some  little  credit  in  sustaining 
my  spirits.  What  follows  ?  Test  as  I  am  beginning  to  come 
out,  and  am  a  treadin'  on  the  werge,  my  master  deceives 
me." 

"  Deceives  you  !  "  cried  Tom. 

''Swindles  me,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley  with  a  beaming  face. 
"  Turns  his  back  on  ev'ry  thing  as  made  his  service  a  credit- 
able one,  and  leaves  me  high  and  dry,  without  a  leg  to  stand 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  731 

upon.  In  which  state,  I  returns  home.  Wery  good.  Then 
all  my  hopeful  wisions  bein'  crushed;  and  findin'  that  there 
ain't  no  credit  for  me  nowhere;  I  abandons  myself  to  despair, 
and  says,  *  Let  me  do  that  as  has  the  least  credit  in  it,  of  all; 
marry  a  dear,  sweet  creetur,  as  is  wery  fond  of  me;  me  being, 
at  the  same  time,  wery  fond  of  her:  lead  a  happy  life,  and 
struggle  no  more  again'  the  blight  which  settles  on  my  pros- 
pects." 

"  If  your  philosophy,  Mark,"  said  Tom,  who  laughed 
heartily  at  this  speech,  ''  be  the  oddest  I  ever  heard  of,  it  is 
not  the  leastwise.     Mrs.  Lupin  has  said  *  yes,'  of  course  ?  " 

''Why,  no,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tapley;  ''she  hasn't  gone  so 
far  as  that  yet.  Which  I  attribute  principally  to  my  not 
havin'  asked  her.  But  we  was  wery  agreeable  together — 
comfortable,  I  may  say — the  night  1  come  home.  It'  s  all 
right,  sir." 

"  Well  !  "  said  Tom,  stopping  at  the  Temple  Gate.  "  I 
wish  you  joy,  Mark,  with  all  my  heart.  I  shall  see  you  again 
to-day,  I  dare  say.  Good-by  for  the  present." 
-  "  Good-by,  sir  !  Good-by,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  he  added  by  way 
of  soliloquy,  as  he  stood  looking  after  him;  "although  you 
are  a  damper  to  a  honorable  ambition.  You  little  think  it, 
but  you  was  the  first  to  dash  my  hopes.  Pecksniff  would 
have  built  me  up  for  life,  but  your  sweet  temper  pulled  me 
down.     Good-by,  Mr.  Pinch  !  " 

While  these  confidences  were  interchanged  between  Tom 
Pinch  and  Mark,  Martin  and  John  Westlock  were  very  differ- 
ently engaged.  They  were  no  sooner  left  together  than 
Martin  said,  with  an  effort  he  could  not  disguise  : 

"  Mr.  Westlock,  we  have  met  only  once  before,  but  you 
have  known  Tom  a  long  while,  and  that  seems  to  render  you 
familiar  to  me.  I  can  not  talk  freely  with  you  on  any  subject 
unless  I  relieve  my  mind  of  what  oppresses  it  just  now.  I 
see  with  pain  that  you  so  far  mistrust  me  that  you  think  me 
likely  to  impose  on  Tom's  regardlessness  of  himself,  or  on  his 
kind  nature,  or  some  of  his  good  qualities." 

"  I  had  no  intention,"  replied  John,  "  of  conveying  any 
such  impression  to  you,  and  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  have 
done  so." 

"  But  you  entertain  it  ?  "  said  Martin. 

"  You  ask  me  so  pointedly  and  directly,"  returned  the 
other,  "  that  I  can  not  deny  the  having  accustomed  myself 
to  regard  you  as  one  who,  not  in  wantonness  but  in  mere 
thoughtlessness  of  character,  did  not  sufficiently  consider  his 


732  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

nature  and  did  not  quite  treat  it  as  it  deserves  to  be  treated. 
It  is  much  easier  to  slight  than  to  appreciate  Tom  Pinch." 

This  was  not  said  warmly,  but  was  energetically  spoken 
too;  for  there  was  no  subject  in  the  world  (but  one)  on 
which  the  speaker  felt  so  strongly, 

^'  I  grew  into  the  knowledge  of  Tom,"  he  pursued,  ''as  I 
grew  toward  manhood;  and  I  have  learned  to  love  him  as 
something  infinitely  better  than  myself.  I  did  not  think  that 
you  understood  him  when  we  met  before.  I  did  not  think 
that  you  greatly ^cared  to  understand  him.  The  instances  of 
this  which  I  observed  in  you,  were,  like  my  opportunities  for 
observation,  very  trivial — and  were  very  harmless  I  dare  say. 
But  they  were  not  agreeable  to  me,  and  they  forced  them- 
selves upon  me;  for  I  was  not  upon  the  watch  for  them, 
believe  me.  You  will  say,"  added  John,  with  a  smile,  as  he 
subsided  into  more  of  his  accustomed  manner,  "  that  I  am 
not  by  any  means  agreeable  to  you.  I  can  only  assure  you, 
in  reply,  that  I  would  not  have  originated  this  topic  on  any 
account." 

"  I  originated  it,"  said  Martin;  ''and  so  far  from  having 
any  complaint  to  make  against  you,  highly  esteem  the  friend- 
ship you  entertain  for  Tom,  and  the  very  many  proofs 
you  have  given  him  of  it.  Why  should  I  endeavor  to  conceal 
from  you" — he  colored  deeply  though — "  that  I  neither 
understood  him  nor  cared  to  understand  him  when  I  was  his 
companion;  and  that  I  am  very  truly  sorry  for  it  now  !" 

It  was  so  sincerely  said,  at  once  so  modestly  and  manfully, 
that  John  offered  him  his  hand  as  if  he  had  not  done  so 
before;  and  Martin  giving  his  in  the  same  open  spirit,  all 
constraint  between  the  young  men  vanished. 

"  Now  pray,"  said  John,  "  when  I  tire  your  patience  very 
much  in  what  I  am  going  to  say,  recollect  that  it  has  an  end 
to  it,  and  that  the  end  is  the  point  of  the  story." 

With  this  preface,  he  related  all  the  circumstances  con- 
nected with  his  having  presided  over  the  illness  and  slow 
recovery  of  the  patient  at  the  Bull  ;  and  tacked  on  to  the 
skirts  of  that  narrative  Tom's  own  account  of  the  business 
on  the  wharf.  Martin  was  not  a  little  puzzled  when  he  came 
to  an  end,  for  the  two  stories  seemed  to  have  no  connection 
with  each  other,  and  to  leave  him,  as  the  phrase  is,  all 
abroad. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  for  one  moment,"  said  John, 
rising,  *'  I  will  beg  you  almost  immediately  to  come  into  the 
next  room." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  733 

Upon  that,  he  left  Martin  to  himself,  in  a  state  of  consid- 
erable astonishment;  and  soon  came  back  again  to  fulfil  his 
promise.  Accompanying  him  into  the  next  room,  Martin 
found  there  a  third  person;  no  doubt  the  stranger  of  whom 
his  host  had  spoken  when  Tom  Pinch  introduced  him. 

He  was  a  young  man;  with  deep  black  hair  and  eyes.  He 
was  gaunt  and  pale;  and  evidently  had  not  long  recovered 
from  a  severe  illness.  He  stood  as  Martin  entered,  but  sat 
again  at  John's  desire.  His  eyes  were  cast  downward;  and 
but  for  one  glance  at  them  both,  half  in  humiliation  and  half 
in  entreaty,  he  kept  them  so,  and  sat  quite  still  and 
silent. 

'*  This  person's  name  is  Lewsome,"  said  John  Westlock, 
**  whom  I  have  mentioned  to  you  as  having  been  seized  with 
an  illness  at  the  inn  near  here,  and  undergone  so  much.  He 
has  had  a  very  hard  time  of  it,  ever  since  he  began  to  recover; 
but,  as  you  see,  he  is  now  doing  well." 

As  he  did  not  move  or  speak,  and  John  Westlock  made  a 
pause,  Martin,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  said  that  he  was 
glad  to  hear  it. 

"  The  short  statement  that  I  wish  you  to  hear  from  his  own 
lips,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  John  pursued,  looking  attentively  at 
him,  and  not  at  Martin,  ''  he  made  to  me  for  the  first  time 
yesterday,  and  repeated  to  me  this  morning,  without  the  least 
variation  of  any  essential  particular.  I  have  already  told  you 
that  he  informed  me  before  he  was  removed  from  the  inn, 
that  he  had  a  secret  to  disclose  to  me  which  lay  heavy  on 
his  mind.  But,  fluctuating  between  sickness  and  health,  and 
between  his  desire  to  relieve  himself  of  it,  and  his  dread  of 
involving  himself  by  revealing  it,  he  has,  until  yesterday, 
avoided  the  disclosure.  I  never  pressed  him  for  it  (having 
no  idea  of  its  weight  or  import,  or  of  my  right  to  do  so), 
until  within  a  few  days  past;  when,  understanding  from  him, 
on  his  own  voluntary  avowal,  in  a  letter  from  the  country, 
that  it  related  to  a  person  whose  name  was  Jonas  Chuzzle- 
wit;  and  thinking  that  it  might  throw  some  light  on  that 
little  mystery  which  made  Tom  anxious  now  and  then;  I 
urged  the  point  upon  him,  and  heard  his  statement,  as  you 
will  now,  from  his  own  lips.  It  is  due  to  him  to  say,  that  in 
the  apprehension  of  death,  he  committed  it  to  writing  some- 
time since,  and  folded  it  in  a  sealed  paper,  addressed  to  me: 
which  he  could  not  resolve,  however,  to  place  of  his  own  act 
in  my  hands.  He  has  the  paper  in  his  breast,  I  believe,  at 
this  moment." 


734  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  young  man  touched  it  hastily,  in  corroboration  of  the 
fact. 

*'  It  will  be  well  to  leave  that  in  our  charge,  perhaps,"  said 
John.     "  But  do  not  mind  it  now." 

As  he  said  this,  he  held  up  his  hand  to  bespeak  MaTtin's 
attention.  It  was  already  fixed  upon  the  man  before  him,  who, 
after  a  short  silence  said,  in  a  low,  weak,  hollow  voice: 

'*  What  relation  was  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  who — " 

'' — Who  died — to  me?"  said  Martin.  "He  was  my 
grandfather's  brother." 

''  I  fear  he  was  made  away  with.     Murdered  !  " 

''  My  God  !  "  said  Martin.     "  By  whom  ?  " 

The  young  man,  Lewsome,  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  cast- 
ing down  his  eyes  again,  replied: 

''  I  fear,  by  me." 

''  By  you  ?  "  cried  Martin. 

"  Not  by  my  act,  but  I  fear  by  my  means." 

"  Speak  out  !  "  said  Martin,  "  and  speak  the  truth." 

"  1  fear  this  is  the  truth." 

Martin  was  about  to  interrupt  him  again,  but  John  West- 
lock  saying  softly,  "  let  him  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way," 
Lewsome  went  on  thus  : 

"  1  have  been  bred  a  surgeon,  and  for  the  last  few  years 
have  served  a  general  practitioner  in  the  City  as  his  as- 
sistant. While  I  was  in  his  employment  I  became  acquainted 
with  Jonas  Chuzzlewit.     He  is  the  principal  in  this  deed." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Martin,  sternly.  *'  Do 
you  know  he  is  the  son  of  the  old  man  of  whom  you  have 
spoken  ? " 

"  I  do,"  he  answered. 

He  remained  silent  for  some  moments,  when  he  resumed 
at  the  point  where  he  had  left  off. 

"I  have  reason  to  know  it;  for  I  have  often  heard  him 
wish  his  old  father  dead,  and  complain  of  his  being  weari- 
some to  him,  and  a  drag  upon  him.  He  was  in  the  habit  of 
doing  so,  at  a  place  of  meeting  we  had — three  or  four  of  us 
— at  night.  There  was  no  good  in  the  place,  you  may  sup- 
pose, when  you  hear  that  he  was  the  chief  of  the  party.  I 
wish  I  had  died  myself,  and  never  seen  it  !  " 

He  stopped  again ;  and  again  resumed  as  before. 

"  We  met  to  drink  and  game;  not  for  large  sums,  but  for 
sums  that  were  large  to  us.  He  generally  won.  Whether  or 
no,  he  lent  money  at  interest  to  those  who  lost;  and  in  this 
way,  thotgh  1  think  we  all  secretly  hated  him,  he  came  to  be 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  735 

the  master  of  us.  To  propitiate  him,  we  made  a  jest  of  his 
father;  it  began  with  his  debtors;  I  was  one;  and  we  used  to 
toast  a  quicker  journey  to  the  old  man,  and  a  swift  inheritance 
to  the  young  one." 

He  paused  again. 

*'  One  night  he  came  there  in  a  very  bad  humor.  He  had 
been  greatly  tried,  he  said,  by  the  old  man  that  day.  He  and 
I  were  alone  together:  and  he  angrily  told  me,  that  the  old 
man  was  in  his  second  childhood;  that  he  was  weak,  imbe- 
cile, and  driveling  ;  as  unbearable  to  himself  as  he  was  to 
other  people;  and  that  it  would  be  a  charity  to  put  him  out 
of  the  way.  He  swore  that  he  had  often  thought  of  mixing 
something  with  the  stuff  he  took  for  his  cough,  which  should 
help  him  to  die  easily.  People  were  sometimes  smothered 
who  were  bitten  by  mad  dogs,  he  said;  and  why  not  help 
these  lingering  old  men  out  of  their  troubles  too  ?  He  looked 
full  at  me  as  he  said  so,  and  I  looked  full  at  him;  but  it  went 
no  farther  that  night." 

He  stopped  once  more,  and  was  silent  for  so  long  an 
interval  that  John  Westlock  said  "  Go  on."  Martin  had 
never  removed  his  eyes  from  his  face,  but  was  so  absorbed 
in  horror  and  astonishment,  that  he  could  not  speak. 

''  It  may  have  been  a  week  after  that,  or  it  may  have  been 
less,  or  more — the  matter  was  in  my  mind  all  the  time,  but  I 
can  not  recollect  the  time,  as  I  should  any  other  period — 
when  he  spoke  to  me  again.  We  were  alone  then,  too;  being 
there  before  the  usual  hour  of  assembling.  There  was  no 
appointment  between  us;  but  I  think  I  went  there  to  meet 
him,  and  I  know  he  came  there  to  meet  me.  He  was  there 
first.  He  was  reading  a  newspaper  when  I  went  in,  and 
nodded  to  me  without  looking  up,  or  leaving  off  reading.  I 
sat  down  opposite  and  close  to  him.  He  said,  immediately, 
that  he  wanted  me  to  get  him  some  of  two  sorts  of  drugs. 
One  that  was  instantaneous  in  its  effect,  of  which  he  wanted 
very  little.  One  that  v/as  slow,  and  not  suspicious  in  ap- 
pearance; of  which  he  wanted  more.  While  he  was  speaking 
to  me  he  still  read  the  newspaper.  He  said  '  Drugs,'  and 
never  used  any  other  word.     Neither  did  I." 

"  This  all  agrees  with  vrhat  I  have  heard  before,"  observed 
John  Westlock. 

"  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  the  drugs  for  ?  He  said  for 
no  harm;  to  physic  cats;  what  did  it  matter  to  me  ?  I  was 
going  out  to  a  distant  colony  (I  had  recently  got  the  appoint- 
ment, which,  as  Mr.  Westlock  knows,  I  have  since  lost  by  my 


736  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

sickness,  and  which  was  my  only  hope  of  salvation  from  ruin), 
and  what  did  it  matter  to  me  ?  He  could  get  them  without 
my  aid  at  half  a  hundred  places,  but  not  so  easily  as  he  could 
get  them  of  me.  This  was  true.  He  might  not  want  them  at 
all,  he  said,  and  he  had  no  present  idea  of  using  them;  but 
he  wished  to  have  them  by  him.  All  this  time  he  still  read 
the  newspaper.  We  talked  about  the  price.  He  was  to  for- 
give me  a  small  debt — I  was  quite  in  his  power — and  to  pay 
me  five  pounds;  and  there  the  matter  dropped,  through  others 
coming  in.  But,  next  night,  under  exactly  similar  circum- 
stances, 1  gave  him  the  drugs,  on  his  saying  I  was  a  fool  to 
think  that  he  should  ever  use  them  for  any  harm;  and  he 
gave  me  the  money.  We  have  never  met  since,  I  only 
know  that  the  poor  old  father  died  soon  afterward,  just  as 
he  would  have  died  from  this  cause:  and  that  I  have  under- 
gone, and  suffer  now,  intolerable  misery.  Nothing,"  he 
added,  stretching  out  his  hands,  "  can  paint  my  misery  !  It 
is  well  deserved,  but  nothing  can  paint  it." 

With  that  he  hung  his  head,  and  said  no  more.  Wasted 
and  wretched,  he  was  not  a  creature  upon  whom  to  heap 
reproaches  that  were  unavailing. 

''Let  him  remain  at  hand,"  said  Martin,  turning  from 
him;  "but  out  of  sight,  in  heaven's  name  !" 

"  He  will  remain  here,"  John  whispered.  ''  Come  with 
me  !  "  Softly  turning  the  key  upon  him  as  they  went  out,  he 
conducted  Martin  into  the  adjoining  room,  in  which  they 
had  been  before. 

Martin  was  so  amazed,  so  shocked,  and  confounded  by 
what  he  had  heard,  that  it  was  some  time  before  he  could 
reduce  it  to  any  order  in  his  mind,  or  could  sufficiently  com- 
prehend the  bearing  of  one  part  upon  another,  to  take  in  all 
the  details  at  one  view.  When  he,  at  length,  had  the  whole 
narrative  clearly  before  him,  John  Westlock  went  on  to  point 
out  the  great  probability  of  the  guilt  of  Jonas  being  known 
to  other  people,  who  traded  in  it  for  their  own  benefit,  and 
who  were,  by  such  means,  able  to  exert  that  control  over 
him  which  Tom  Pinch  had  accidentally  witnessed,  and 
unconsciously  assisted.  This  appeared  so  plain,  that  they 
agreed  upon  it  without  difficulty;  but  instead  of  deriving  the 
least  assistance  from  this  source,  they  found  that  it  embar- 
rassed them  the  more. 

They  knew  nothing  of  the  real  parties,  who  possessed  this 
power.  The  only  person  before  them  was  Tom's  landlord. 
They  had  no  right  to  question  Tom's  landlord,  even   if  they 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  737 

could  find  him,  which,  according  to  Tom's  account,  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  do.  And  granting  that  they  did  question  him, 
and  he  answ'ered  (which  was  taking  a  good  deal  for  granted), 
he  had  only  to  say,  with  reference  to  the  adventure  on  the 
wharf,  that  he  had  been  sent  from  such  and  such  a  place  to 
summon  Jonas  back  on  urgent  business,  and  there  was  an 
end  of  it. 

Besides,  there  was  the  great  difficulty  and  responsibility  of 
moving  at  all  in  the  matter.  Lewsome's  story  might  be  false; 
in  his  wretched  state  it  might  be  greatly  heightened  by  a 
diseased  brain;  or  admitting  it  to  be  entirely  true,  the  old 
man  might  have  died  a  natural  death.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
been  there  at  the  time;  as  Tom  immediately  remembered, 
when  he  came  back  in  the  afternoon,  and  shared  their  coun- 
sels; and  there  had  been  no  secrecy  about  it.  Martin's 
grandfather  was  of  right  the  person  to  decide  upon  the  course 
that  should  betaken;  but  to  get  at  his  views  would  be  im- 
possible, for  Mr.  Pecksniff's  views  were  certain  to  be  his. 
And  the  nature  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  views  in  reference  to  his 
own  son-in-law,  might  be  easily  reckoned  upon. 

Apart  from  these  considerations,  Martin  could  not  endure 
the  thought  of  seeming  to  grasp  at  this  unnatural  charge 
against  his  relative,  and  using  it  as  a  stepping-stone  to  his 
grandfather's  favor.  But  that  he  would  seem  to  do  so,  if  he 
presented  himself  before  his  grandfather  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
house  again,  for  the  purpose  of  declaring  it;  and  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  of  all  men,  would  represent  his  conduct  in  that 
despicable  light,  he  perfectly  well  knew.  On  the  other  hand, 
to  be  in  possession  of  such  a  statement,  and  take  no  meas- 
ures of  further  inquiry  in  reference  to  it,  was  tantamount  to 
being  a  partner  in  the  guilt  it  professed  to  disclose. 

In  a  word,  they  were  wholly  unable  to  discover  any  outlet 
from  this  maze  of  difficulty,  which  did  not  lie  through  some 
perplexed  and  entangled  thicket.  And  although  Mr.  Tap- 
ley  was  promptly  taken  into  their  confidence;  and  the  fer- 
tile imagination  of  that  gentleman  suggested  many  bold 
expedients,  which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  was  quite  ready  to 
carry  into  instant  operation  on  his  own  personal  responsi- 
bility; still,  'bating  the  general  zeal  of  Mr.  Tapley's  nature, 
nothing  was  made  particularly  clearer  by  these  offers  of  ser- 
vice. 

It  was  in  this  position  of  affairs  that  Tom's  account  of  the 
strange  behavior  of  the  decayed  clerk,  on  the  night  of  the 
tea-party,  became  of  great  moment,  and  finally  convinced 


738  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

them  that  to  arrive  at  a  more  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
workings  of  that  old  man's  mind  and  memory,  would  be  to 
take  a  most  important  stride  in  their  pursuit  of  the  truth. 
So,  having  first  satisfied  themselves  that  no  communication 
had  ever  taken  place  between  Lewsome  and  Mr.  Chuffey 
(which  would  have  accounted  at  once  for  any  suspicion  the 
latter  might  entertain),  they  unanimously  resolved  that  the 
old  clerk  was  the  man  they  wanted. 

But,  like  the  unanimous  resolution  of  a  public  meeting, 
which  will  oftentimes  declare  that  this  or  that  grievance  is 
not  to  be  borne  a  moment  longer,  which  is  nevertheless 
borne  for  a  century  or  two  afterward,  without  any  modifica- 
tion, they  only  reached  in  this  the  conclusion  that  they  were 
all  of  one  mind.  For,  it  was  one  thing  to  want  Mr.  Chuffey, 
and  another  thing  to  get  at  him  ;  and  to  do  that  without 
alarming  him,  or  without  alarming  Jonas,  or  without  being 
discomfited  by  the  difficulty  of  striking,  in  an  instrument 
so  out  of  tune  and  so  unused,  the  note  they  sought,  was  an 
end  as  far  from  their  reach  as  ever. 

The  question  then  became,  who  of  those  about  the  old 
clerk  had  had  most  influence  with  him  that  night.  Tom 
said  his  young  mistress  clearly.  But  Tom  and  all  of  them 
shrunk  from  the  thought  of  entrapping  her,  and  making  her 
the  innocent  means  of  bringing  retribution  on  her  cruel  hus- 
band. Was  there  nobody  else  ?  Why  yes.  In  a  very  dif- 
ferent way,  Tom  said,  he  was  influenced  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  the 
nurse,  who  had  once  had  the  control  of  him,  as  he  under- 
stood, for  some  time. 

They  caught  at  this  immediately.  Here  was  a  new  way 
out,  developed  in  a  quarter  until  then  overlooked.  John 
Westlock  knew  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  he  had  given  her  employment; 
he  was  acquainted  with  her  place  of  residence:  for  that  good 
lady  had  obligingly  furnished  him,  at  parting,  with  a  pack  of 
her  professional  cards  for  general  distribution.  It  was  de- 
cided that  Mrs.  Gamp  should  be  approached  with  caution, 
but  approached  without  delay  ;  and  that  the  depths  of  that 
discreet  matron's  knowledge  of  Mr.  Chuftey,  and  means  of 
bringing  them  or  one  of  them,  into  communication  with  him, 
should  be  carefully  sounded. 

On  this  service,  Martin  and  John  Westlock  determined  to 
proceed  that  night  ;  waiting  on  Mrs.  Gamp  first,  at  her  lodg- 
ings, and  taking  their  chance  at  finding  her  in  the  repose  of 
private  life,  or  of  having  to  seek  her  out,  elsewhere,  in  the 
exercise  of  her  professional  duties,      i  om  returned  home, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  739 

that  he  might  lose  no  opportunity  of  having  an  interview 
with  Nadgett,  by  being  absent  in  the  event  of  his  reappear- 
ance. And  Mr.  Tapley  remained  (by  his  own  particular 
desire)  for  the  time  being  in  Furnival's  Inn,  to  look  after 
Lewsome  ;  who  might  safely  have  been  left  to  himself,  how- 
ever, for  any  thought  he  seemed  to  entertain  of  giving  them 
the  slip. 

Before  they  parted  on  their  several  errands,  they  caused 
him  to  read  aloud,  in  the  presence  of  them  all,  the  paper 
which  he  had  about  him,  and  the  declaration  he  had  at- 
tached to  it,  which  was  to  the  effect,  that  he  had  written  it 
voluntarily,  in  the  fear  of  death  and  in  the  torture  of  his 
mind.  And  when  he  had  done  so,  they  all  signed  it,  and 
taking  it  from  him,  of  his  free  will,  locked  it  in  a  place  of 
safetv. 

Martin  also  wrote,  by  John's  advice,  a  letter  to  the  trus- 
tees of  the  famous  Grammar  School,  boldly  claiming  the 
successful  design  as  his,  and  charging  Mr.  Pecksniff  with 
the  fraud  he  had  committed.  .  In  this  proceeding  also,  John 
was  hotly  interested  :  observing  with  his  usual  irreverence, 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  a  successful  rascal  all  his  life 
through,  and  that  it  would  be  a  lasting  source  of  happiness 
to  him  (John)  if  he  could  help  to  do  him  justice  in  the 
smallest  particular. 

A  busy  day  !  But  Martin  had  no  lodgings  yet;  so  when 
these  matters  were  disposed  of,  he  excused  himself  from 
dining  with  John  Westlock  and  was  fain  to  wander  out  alone, 
and  look  for  some.  He  succeeded,  after  great  trouble,  in 
engaging  two  garrets  for  himself  and  Mark,  situated  in  a 
court  in  the  Strand,  not  far  from  Temple  Bar.  Their  lug- 
gage, which  was  waiting  for  them  at  a  coach-office,  he  con- 
veyed to  this  new  place  of  refuge;  and  it  was  with  a  glow  of 
satisfaction,  which  as  a  selfish  man  he  never  could  have 
known,  and  never  had,  that,  thinking  how  much  pains  and 
trouble  he  had  saved  Mark,  and  how  pleased  and  astonished 
Mark  would  be,  he  afterward  walked  up  and  down,  in  the 
Temple,  eating  a  meat-pie  for  his  dinner. 


740  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

IN  WHICH  MRS.  HARRIS,  ASSISTED  BY  A  TEA-POT,  IS  THE  CAUSE 
OF   A   DIVISION    BETWEEN    FRIENDS. 

Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  in  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Hol- 
born,  wore,  metaphorically  speaking,  a  robe  of  state.  It 
was  swept  and  garnished  for  the  reception  of  a  visitor.  That 
visitor  was  Betsey  Prig:  Mrs.  Prig,  of  Bartlemy's,  or  as  some 
said  Barklemy's,  or  as  some  said  Bardlemy's  :  for  by  all  these 
endearing  and  familiar  appellations,  had  the  hosoital  of  Saint 
Bartholomew  become  a  household  word  am^ng  the  sister- 
hood which  Betsey  Prig  adorned. 

Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  was  not  a  spacious  one,  but,  to 
a  contented  mind,  a  closet  is  a  palace;  and  the  first-floor 
front  at  Mr.  Sweedlepipe's  may  have  been,  in  the  imagination 
of  Mrs.  Gamp,  a  stately  pile.  If  it  were  not  exactly  that  to 
restless  intellects,  it  at  least  comprised  as  much  accommoda- 
tion as  any  person,  not  sanguine  to  insanity,  could  have 
looked  for  in  a  room  of  its  dimensions.  For  only  keep  the 
bedstead  always  in  your  mind,  and  you  were  safe.  That  was 
the  grand  secret.  Remembering  the  bedstead,  you  might 
even  stoop  to  look  under  the  little  round  table  for  any  thing 
you  had  dropped,  without  hurting  yourself  much  against  the 
chest  of  drawers,  or  qualifying  as  a  patient  of  Saint  Barthol- 
omew by  falling  into  the  fire. 

Visitors  were  much  assisted  in  their  cautious  efforts  to 
preserve  an  unflagging  recollection  of  this  piece  of  furniture, 
by  its  size,  which  was  great.  It  was  not  a  turn-up  bedstead, 
nor  yet  a  French  bedstead,  nor  yet  a  four-post  bedstead,  but 
what  is  poetically  called  a  tent:  the  sacking  whereof,  was  low 
and  bulgy,  insomuch  that  Mrs.  Gamp's  box  would  not  go 
under  it,  but  stopped  half  way,  in  a  manner  which  while  it 
did  violence  to  the  reason,  likewise  endangered  the  legs,  of  a 
stranger.  The  frame  too,  which  would  have  supported  the 
canopy  and  hangings  if  there  had  been  any,  was  ornamented 
with  divers  pippins  carved  in  timber,  which  on  the  slightest 
provocation,  and  frequently  on  none  at  all,  came  tumbling 
down;  harassinp^  the  peaceful  guest  with  inexplicable  terrors. 

The  bed  itself  was  decorated  with  a  patch-work  quilt  of 
great  antiquity;  and  at  the  upper  end,  upon  the  side  nearest 
to  the  door,  hung  a  scanty  curtain  of  blue  check,  which  pre- 
vented the  zephyrs  that  were  abroad  in  Kingsgate  Street, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  741 

from  visiting  Mrs.  Gamp's  head  too  roughly.  Some  rusty- 
gowns  and  other  articles  of  that  lady's  wardrobe,  depended 
from  the  posts;  and  these  had  so  adapted  themselves  by  long 
usage  to  her  figure,  that  more  than  one  impatient  husband 
coming  in  precipitately,  at  about  the  time  of  twilight, 
had  been  for  an  instant  stricken  dumb  by  the  supposed  dis- 
covery that  Mrs.  Gamp  had  hanged  herself.  One  gentleman, 
coming  on  the  usual  hasty  errand,  had  said  indeed,  that  they 
looked  like  guardian  angels  ''  watching  of  her  in  her  sleep." 
But  that,  as  Mrs.  Gamp  said,  ''  was  his  first  ; "  and  he 
never  repeated  the  sentiment,  though  he  often  repeated  his 
visit. 

The  chairs  in  Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  were  extremely 
large  and  broad-backed,  which  was  more  than  a  sufficient 
reason  for  there  being  but  two  in  number.  They  were 
both  elbow-chairs,  of  ancient  mahogany;  and  were  chiefly 
valuable  for  the  slippery  nature  of  their  seats,  which  had 
been  originally  horse-hair,  but  were  now  covered  with  a  shiny 
substance  of  a  bluish  tint,  from  which  the  visitor  began  to 
slide  away  with  a  dismayed  countenance,  immediately  after 
sitting  down.  What  Mrs.  Gamp  wanted  in  chairs  she  made 
up  in  bandboxes;  of  which  she  had  a  great  collection,  devo- 
ted to  the  reception  of  various  miscellaneous  valuables, 
which  were  not,  however,  as  well  protected  as  the  good 
woman,  by  a  pleasant  fiction,  seemed  to  think;  for,  though 
every  bandbox  had  a  carefully  closed  lid,  not  one  among 
them  had  a  bottom:  owing  to  which  cause,  the  property 
within  was  merely,  as  it  were,  extinguished.  The  chest  of 
drawers  having  been  originally  made  to  stand  upon  the  top 
of  another  chest,  had  a  dwarfish,  elfin  look,  alone;  but,  in 
regard  of  its  security  it  had  a  great  advantage  over  the  band- 
boxes, for  as  all  the  handles  had  been  long  ago  pulled  off,  it 
was  very  difficult  to  get  at  its  contents.  This  indeed  was 
only  to  be  done  by  one  or  two  devices;  either  by  tilting  the 
whole  structure  forward  until  all  the  drawers  fell  out 
together,  or  by  opening  them  singly  with  knives,  like  oysters. 

Mrs.  Gamp  stored  all  her  household  matters  in  a  little  cup- 
board by  the  fireplace;  beginning  below  the  surface  (as  in 
nature)  with  the  coals,  and  mounting  gradually  upward  to 
the  spirits,  which,  from  motives  of  delicacy,  she  kept  in  a 
tea-pot.  The  chimney-piece  was  ornamented  with  a  small 
almanac,  marked  here  and  there  in  Mrs.  Gamp's  own  hand 
with  a  memorandum  of  the  date  at  which  some  lady  was 
exoected    to  fall  due.     It  was  also  embellished  with  three 


742  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

profiles:  one,  in  colors,  of  Mrs.  Gamp  herself  in  early  life; 
one,  in  bronze,  of  a  lady  in  feathers,  supposed  to  be  Mrs. 
Harris,  as  she  appeared  when  dressed  for  a  ball;  and  one, 
in  black,  of  Mr.  Gamp,  deceased.  The  last  was  a  full  length, 
in  order  that  the  likeness  might  be  rendered  more  obvious 
and  forcible,  by  the  introduction  of  the  wooden  leg. 

A  pair  of  bellows,  a  pair  of  pattens,  a  toasting-fork,  a 
kettle,  a  pap-boat,  a  spoon  for  the  administration  of  medicine 
to  the  refractory,  and  lastly,  Mrs.  Gamp's  umbrella,  which  as 
something  of  great  price  and  rarity  was  displayed  with  par- 
ticular ostentation,  completed  the  decorations  of  the  chimney- 
piece  and  adjacent  wall.  Toward  these  objects,  Mrs.  Gamp 
raised  her  eyes  in  satisfaction  when  she  had  arranged  the 
tea-board,  and  had  concluded  her  arrangements  for  the  re- 
ception of  Betsey  Prig,  even  unto  the  setting  forth  of  two 
pounds  of  Newcastle  salmon,  intensely  pickled. 

"There!  Now  drat  you,  Betsey,  don't  be  long!"  said 
Mrs.  Gamp,  apostrophizing  her  absent  friend.  "  For  I  can't 
abear  to  wait,  I  do  assure  you.  To  wotever  place  I  goes,  I 
sticks  to  this  one  mortar.  '  I'm  easy  pleased;  it  is  but  little 
as  I  wants;  but  I  must  have  that  little  of  the  best,  and  to  the 
minute  when  the  clock  strikes,  else  we  do  not  part  as  I  could 
wish,  but  bearin'  malice  in  our  arts.'  " 

Her  own  preparations  were  of  the  best,  for  they  compre- 
hended a  delicate  new  loaf,  a  plate  of  fresh  butter,  a  basin  of 
fine  white  sugar,  and  other  arrangemxCnts  on  the  same  scale. 
Even  the  snuff  with  which  she  now  refreshed  herself,  was  so 
choice  in  quality,  that  she  took  a  second  pinch, 

"  There's  the  little  bell  a  ringing  now,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
hurrying  to  the  stair-head  and  looking  over.  ''  Betsey  Prig, 
my — why  it's  that  there  disapintin'  Sweedlepipes,  I  do  be- 
iieve. 

"Yes,  it's  me,"  said  the  barber  in  a  faint  voice;  "I've 
just  come  in," 

"  You're  always  a  comin'  in,  I  think,"  muttered  Mrs. 
Gamp  to  herself,  "  except  wen  you're  a-going  out.  I  ha'n't 
no  patience  with  that  man  !  " 

"  Mrs,  Gamp,"  said  the  barber.     "  I  say  !  Mrs.  Gamp  !  " 

"  Well,"  cried  Mrs.. Gamp,  impatiently,  as  she  descended 
the  stairs.  **  What  is  it  ?  Is  the  Thames  a-fire,  and  cooking 
its  own  fish,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes?  Why  wot's  the  man 
gone  and  been  a-doin'  of  to  himself !  He's  as  white  as 
chalk  !  " 

She  added  the  latter  clause  of  inquiry,  when  she  got  down 


MARTlxN  CiiUZZLKWll".  743 

stairs,  and  found  him  seated  in  the   shaving-chair,  pale  and 
disconsolate. 

"  You  recollect,"  said  Poll.     "  You  recollect  young — " 

**  Not  young  Wilkins  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  Don't  say 
young  Wilkins,  wotever  you  do.  If  young  Wilkins's  wife  is 
took—" 

"  It  isn't  any  body's  wife,"  exclaimed  the  little  barber. 
"  Bailey,  young  Bailey  !  " 

"  Why,  wot  do  you  mean  to  say  that  chit's  been-a-doin' 
of  ?  "  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp,  sharply.  ''  Stuff  and  nonsense, 
Mr.  Sweedlepipes  !  " 

'^  He  hasn't  been  a-doing  any  thing!  "  exclaimed  poor  Poll, 
quite  desperate.  "  What  do  you  catch  me  up  so  short  for 
when  you  see  me  put  out,  to  that  extent,  that  I  can  hardly 
speak  ?  He'll  never  do  any  thing  again.  He's  done  for.  He's 
killed.  The  first  time  I  ever  see  that  boy,"  said  Poll,  "  I 
charged  him  too  much  for  a  red-poll.  I  asked  him  three-half- 
pence for  a  penny  one,  because  I  was  afraid  he'd  beat  me 
down.  But  he  didn't.  And  now  he's  dead;  and  if  you  was 
to  crowd  all  the  steam-engines  and  electric  fluids  that  ever 
was,  into  this  shop,  and  set  'em  every  one  to  work  their  hard- 
est, they  couldn't  square  the  account,  though  it's  only  a  ha'- 
penny !  " 

Mr.  Sweediepipe  turned  aside  to  the  towel,  and  wiped  his 
eyes  with  it. 

"  And  what  a  clever  boy  he  was  !  "  he  said.  "  What  a 
surprising  young  chap  he  was!  How  he  talked  !  and  what  a 
deal  he  knovv^'d  !  Shaved  in  this  very  chair  he  was;  only  for 
fun;  it  was  all  his  fun  ;  he  was  full  of  it.  Ah  !  to  think  that 
he'll  never  be  shaved  in  earnest !  The  birds  might  every  one 
have  died,  and  welcome,"  cried  the  little  barber,  looking 
round  him  at  the  cages,  and  again  applying  to  the  tov/el, 
"  sooner  than  I'd  have  heard  this  news  !  " 

''  How  did  you  ever  come  to  hear  it  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

*'  I  went  out,"  returned  the  little  barber,  "  into  the  city, 
to  meet  a  sporting  gent,  upon  the  Stock  Exchange,  that 
wanted  a  few  slow  pigeons  to  practice  at;  and  when  I'd  done 
with  him,  I  went  to  get  a  little  drop  of  beer,  and  there  I 
heard  every  body  a-talking  about  it.     It's  in  the  papers." 

"  You  are  in  a  nice  state  of  confugion,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes, 
you  are  !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  head;  "and  my 
opinion  is,  as  half  a  dudgeon  fresh  young  lively  leeches  on 
your  temples,  wouldn't  be  too   much    to    clear   your  mind^ 


744  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

which  so  I  tell  you.  Wot  were  they  a-talkin'  on,  and  wot  was 
in  the  papers  ?" 

"All  about  it !"  cried  the  barber.  **AVhatelse  do  you 
suppose  ?  Him  and  his  master  were  upset  on  a  journey,  and 
he  was  carried  to  Salisbury,  and  was  breathing  his  last  when 
the  account  came  away.  He  never  spoke  afterward.  Not  a 
single  word.  That's  the  worst  of  it  to  me;  but  that  ain't  all. 
His  master  can't  be  found.  The  other  manager  of  their  office 
in  the  city — Crimple,  David  Crimple — has  gone  off  with  the 
money,  and  is  advertised  for,  with  a  reward,  upon  the  walls. 
Mr.  Montague,  poor  young  Bailey's  master  (what  a  boy  he 
was)  is  advertised  for,  too.  Some  say  he's  slipped  off,  to  join 
his  friend  abroad  ;  some  say  he  mayn't  have  got  away  yet ; 
and  they're  looking  for  him  high  and  low.  Their  office  is  a 
smash  ;  a  swindle  altogether.  But  what's  a  life  Assurance 
office  to  a  life  !     And  what  a  life   young    Bailey's  was  !  " 

"  He  was  born  into  a  wale,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  philo- 
sophical coolness  ;  "  and  he  lived  in  a  wale  :  and  he  must 
take  the  consequences  of  sech  a  sitiwation.  But  don't  you 
hear  nothink  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  all  this  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Poll,  "nothing  to  speak  of.  His  name  wasn't 
printed  as  one  of  the  board,  though  some  people  say  it  was 
just  going  to  be.  Some  believe  he  was  took  in,  and  some 
believe  he  was  one  of  the  takers-in  ;  but  however  that  may 
be,  they  can't  prove  nothing  against  hrm.  This  morning  he 
went  up  of  his  own  accord  afore  the  lord  mayor  or  some  of 
them  city  big-wigs,  and  complained  that  he'd  been  swin- 
dled, and  that  these  two  persons  had  gone  off  and  cheated 
him,  and  that  he  had  just  found  out  that  Montague's  name 
wasn't  even  Montague,  but  something  else.  And  they  do 
say  that  he  looked  like  death,  owing  to  his  losses.  But,  Lord 
forgive  me,"  cried  the  barber,  coming  back  again  to  the 
subject  of  his  individual  grief,  "  what's  his  looks  to  me  !  He 
might  have  died  and  welcome,  fifty  times,  and  not  been 
such  a  loss  as  Bailey  !" 

At  this  juncture  the  little  bell  rang,  and  the  deep  voice  of 
Mrs.  Prig  struck  into  the  conversation. 

"  Oh  !  You're  a-talkin'  about  it,  are  you  !  "  observed  that 
lady.  "  Well,  I  hope  you've  got  it  over,  for  I  ain't  inter- 
ested in  it  myself." 

"My  precious  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "how  late  you  are!" 

The  worthy  Mrs.  Prig  replied,  with  some  asperity,  "  that 
if  perwerse  people  went  off  dead,  when,  they  was  least  ex- 
pected, it  waren't  no  fault  of  her'n."     And  further,  "  that  it 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  745 

was  quite  aggrawation  enough  to  be  made  late  when  one 
was  dropping  for  one's  tea,  without  hearing  on  it  again." 

Mrs.  Gamp,  deriving  from  this  exhibition  of  repartee 
some  clew  to  the  state  of  Mrs.  Prig's  feelings,  instantly  con- 
ducted her  up  stairs,  deeming  that  the  sight  of  pickled  sal- 
mon might  work  a  softening  change. 

But  Betsey  Prig  expected  pickled  salmon.  It  was  obvi- 
ous that  she  did  ;  for  her  first  words,  after  glancing  at  the 
table,  were  : 

"  I  knowed  she  wouldn't  have  a  coucumber  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  changed  color,  and  sat  down  upon  the  bed- 
stead. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Betsey  Prig,  your  words  is  true.  I  quite 
forgot  it  !  " 

Mrs.  Prig,  looking  steadfastly  at  her  friend,  put  her  hand 
in  her  pocket,  and  with  an  air  of  surly  triumph  drew  forth 
either  the  oldest  of  lettuces  or  youngest  of  cabbages,  but 
at  any  rate,  a  green  vegetable  of  an  expensive  nature,  and  of 
such  magnificent  proportions  that  she  was  obliged  to  shut  it 
up  like  an  umbrella  before  she  could  pull  it  out.  She  also 
produced  a  handful  of  mustard  and  cress,  a  trifle  of  the  herb 
called  dandelion,  three  bunches  of  radishes,  an  onion  rather 
larger  than  the  average  turnip,  three  substantial  slices  of 
beet-root,  and  a  short  prong  or  antler  of  celery  ;  the  whole  of 
this  garden-stuff  having  been  publicly  exhibited,  but  a  short 
time  before,  as  a  two-penny  salad,  and  purchased  by  Mrs. 
Prig,  on  condition  that  the  vender  could  get  it  all  into  her 
pocket.  Which  had  been  happily  accomplished,  in  High 
Holborn,  to  the  breathless  interest  of  a  backney-coach 
stand.  And  she  laid  so  little  stress  on  this  surprising  fore- 
thought, that  she  did  not  even  smile,  but  returning  her 
pocket  into  its  accustomed  sphere,  merely  recommended 
that  these  productions  of  nature  should  be  sliced  up,  for  im- 
mediate consumption,  in  plenty  of    vinegar. 

"  And  don't  go  a  dropping  none  of  your  snuff  in  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Prig.  "  In  gruel,  barley-water,  apple-tea,  mutton- 
broth,  and  that,  it  don't  signify.  It  stimilates  a  patient. 
But  I  don't  relish  it  myself." 

"Why,  Betsey  Prig  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  *'  how  can  you 
talk  so  !  " 

"  Why,  ain't  your  patients,  wotever  their  diseases  is,  al- 
ways a  sneezin'  their  very  heads  off,  along  of  your  snuff  '^.  " 
said  Mrs.   Prig. 

''  And  wot  if  they  are  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 


746  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Nothing  if  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Prig.  *'  But  don't  deny 
it,  Sairah." 

*'  Who  deniges  of  it  ?  "  Mrs.  Gamp  inquired. 

Mrs.  Prig  returned  no  answer. 
•  *'VVho  deniges  of  it,  Betsey  ?"  Mrs  Gamp  inquired  again. 
Then    Mrs.    Gamp,  by   reversing   the   question,  imparted   a 
deeper  and  more  awful  character  of  solemnity  to    the   same. 
"  Betsey,  who  deniges  of  it  ?" 

It  was  the  nearest  possible  approach  to  a  very  decided 
difference  of  opinion  between  these  ladies  ;  but  Mrs.  Prig's 
impatience  for  the  meal  being  greater  at  the  moment  than 
her  impatience  of  contradiction,  she  replied,  for  the  present, 
'*  Nobody,  if  you  don't,  Sairah,"  and  prepared  herself  for  tea. 
For  a  quarrel  can  be  taken  up  at  any  time,  but  a  limited 
quantity  of  salmon  can  not. 

Her  toilet  was  simple.  She  had  merely  to  *'  chuck  "  her 
bonnet  and  shawl  upon  the  bed,  give  her  hair  two  pulls,  one 
upon  the  right  side  and  one  upon  the  left,  as  if  she  were 
ringing  a  couple  of  bells,  and  all  was  done.  The  tea  was 
already  made,  Mrs.  Gamp  was  not  long  over  the  salad,  and 
they  were  soon  at  the  height  of  their  repast. 

The  temper  of  both  parties  was  improved,  for  the  time 
being,  by  the  enjoyments  of  the  table.  When  the  meal  came 
to  a  termination  (which  it  was  pretty  long  in  doing),  and 
Mrs.  Gamp  having  cleared  away,  produced  the  tea-pot  from 
the  top-shelf,  simultaneously  with  a  couple  of  wine-glasses, 
they  were  quite  amiable. 

"  Betsey,"'said  Mrs.  Gamp,  filling  her  own  glass,  and  pass- 
ing the  tea-pot,  "  I  will  now  propoge  a  toast.  My  frequent 
pardner,  Betsey  Prig  !  " 

*'  Which,  altering  the  name  to  Sairah  Gamp  ;  I  drink," 
said  Mrs.  Prig,  "with  love  and  tenderness." 

From  this  moment  symptoms  of  inflammation  began  to 
lurk  in  the  nose  of  each  lady  ;  and  perhaps,  notwithstanding 
all  appearances  to  the  contrary,  in  the  temper  also. 

''Now,  Sairah,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  "joining  business  with 
pleasure,  "  wot  is  this  case  in  which  you  wants  me  ? " 

Mrs.  Gamp  betraying  in  her  face  some  intention  of  return- 
ing an  evasive  answer,  Betsey  added  : 

"  Js  it  Mrs.  Harris  ?  " 

"  No,  Betsey  Prig,  it  ain't,"  was  Mrs.  Gamp's  reply. 

*'  Well  !  "  said  Mrs.  Prig,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I'm  glad 
of  that,  at  any  rate." 

'*  Why,  should  you  be  glad  of  that,  Betsey  ? "  Mrs.  Gamp 


^  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  74) 

retorted,  warmly.  "  She  is  unbeknown  to  you  except  by 
hear  say,  why  should  you  be  glad  ?  If  you  have  any  think 
to  say,  contrairy  to  the  character  of  Mrs.  Harris,  which  well 
I  knows  behind  her  back,  afore  her  face,  or  anywheres,  is 
not  to  be  impeaged,  out  with  it,  Betsey.  I  have  know'd  that 
sweetest  and  best  of  women,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her 
head,  and  shedding  tears,  "  ever  since  afore  her  first,  which 
Mr.  Harris  who  was  dreadful  timid  went  and  stopped  his 
ears  in  a  empty  dog-kennel,  and  never  took  his  hands  away 
or  came  out  once  till  he  was  showed  the  baby,  wen  bein' 
took  with  fits,  the  doctor  collared  him  and  laid  him  on 
his  back  upon  the  airy  stones,  and  she  was  told  to  ease  her 
mind,  his  owls  was  organs.  And  I  have  know'd  her,  Betsey 
Prig,  when  he  has  hurt  her  feelin'  art  by  sayin'  of  his  ninth 
that  it  was  one  too  many,  if  not  two,  while  that  dear  inno- 
cent was  cooin'  in  his  face,  which  thrive  it  did  though  bandy, 
but  I  have  never  know'd  as  you  had  occagion  to  be  glad, 
Betsey,  on  accounts  of  Mrs.  Harris  not  requiring  you. 
Require  she  never  will,  depend  upon  it,  for  her  constant 
*>words  in  sickness  is,  and  will  be,  '  Send  for  Sairey  !  * " 

During  this  touching  address,  Mrs.  Prig  adroitly  feigning 
to  be  the  victim  of  that  absence  of  mind  which  has  its  origin 
in  excessive  attention  to  one  topic,  helped  herself  from  the 
tea-pot  without  appearing  to  observe  it.  Mrs.  Gamp 
observed  it,  however,  and  came  to  a  premature  close  in  con- 
sequence. 

"  Well  it  ain't  her,  it  seems,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  coldly:  "  who 
is  it  then?" 

"  You  have  heerd  me  mention,  Betsey,"  Mrs.  Gamp 
replied,  after  glancing  in  an  expressive  and  marked  manner 
at  the  tea-pot,  "  a  person  as  I  took  care  on  at  the  time  as  you 
and  me  was  pardners  off  and  on,  in  that  there  fever  at  the 
Bull  ?  " 

"  Old  Snuffey,"  Mrs.  Prig  observed. 

Sarah  Gamp  looked  at  her  with  an  eye  of  fire,  for  she  saw 
in  this  mistake  of  Mrs.  Prig,  another  willful  and  malignant 
stab  at  that  same  weakness  or  custom  of  hers,  an  ungenerous 
allusion  to  which,  on  the  part  of  Betsey,  had  first  disturbed 
their  harmony  that  evening.  And  she  saw  it  still  more 
clearly,  when,  politely  but  firmly  correcting  that  lady  by  the 
distinct  enunciation  of  the  word  ''  Chuffey,"  Mrs.  Prig 
received  the  correction  with  a  diabolical  laugh. 

The  best  among  us  have  their  failings,  and  it  must  be  con- 
ceded of  Mrs.  Prig,  that  if  there  were  a  blemish  in  the  good- 


748  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

ness  of  her  disposition,  it  was  a  habit  she  had  of  not  bestow- 
ing all  its  sharp  and  acid  properties  upon  her  patients  (as  a 
thoroughly  amiable  woman  would  have  done),  but  of  keeping 
a  considerable  remainder  for  the  service  of  her  friends. 
Highly  pickled  salmon,  and  lettuces  chopped  up  in  vinegar, 
may,  as  viands  possessing  some  acidity  of  their  own,  have 
encouraged  and  increased  this  failing  in  Mrs.  Prig  ;  and  every 
application  to  the  tea-pot,  certainly  did;  for  it  was  often  re- 
marked of  her  by  her  friends,  that  she  was  most  contradic- 
tory when  most  elevated.  It  is  certain  that  her  countenance 
became  about  this  time  derisive  and  defiant,  and  that  she  sat 
with  her  arms  folded,  and  one  eye  shut  up,  in  a  somewhat 
offensive,  because  obstrusively  intelligent,  manner. 

Mrs.  Gamp  observing  this,  felt  it  the  more  necessary  that 
Mrs.  Prig  should  know  her  place,  and  be  made  sensible  of 
her  exact  station  in  society,  as  well  as  of  her  obligations  to 
herself.  She  therefore  assumed  an  air  of  greater  patronage 
and  importance,  as  she  went  on  to  answer  Mrs.  Prig  a  little 
more  in  detail. 

"  Mr.  Chuffey,  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  weak  in  his 
mind.  Excuge  me  if  I  makes  remark,  that  he  may  neither 
be  so  weak  as  people  thinks,  nor  people  may  not  think  he  is 
so  weak  as  they  pretends,  and  what  I  knows,  I  knows;  and 
what  you  don't,  you  don't;  so  do  not  ask  me,  Betsey.  But 
Mr.  Chuff ey's  friends  has  made  propojals  for  his  bein'  took 
care  on,  and  has  said  to  me,  *  Mrs.  Gamp,  will  you  un- 
dertake it  ?  We  couldn't  think,'  they  says,  *  of  trusting  him 
to  nobody  but  you,  for,  Sairey,  you  are  gold  as  has  passed  the 
furnage.  Will  you  undertake  it,  at  your  own  price,  day  and 
night,  and  by  your  own  self  ? '  '  No,'  I  says, '  I  will  not.  Do 
not  reckon  on  it.  There  is,'  I  says,  '  but  one  creetur  in  the 
world  as  I  would  undertake  on  sech  terms,  and  her  name  is 
Harris.  But,'  I  says,  '  I  am  acquainted  with  a  friend,  whose 
name  is  Betsey  Prig,  that  I  can  recommend,  and  will  assist 
me.  Betsey,'  I  says,  '  is  always  to  be  trusted,  under  me,  and 
will  be  guided  as  I  could  desire.'  " 

Here  Mrs.  Prig,  without  any  abatement  of  her  offensive 
manner,  again  counterfeited  abstraction  of  mind,  and 
stretched  out  her  hand  to  the  tea-pot.  It  was  more  than 
Mrs.  Gamp  could  bear.  She  stopped  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Prig 
with  her  own,  and  said,  with  great  feeling: 

"  No,  Betsey  !     Drink  fair,  wotever  you  do  !  " 

Mrs.  Prig,  thus  baffled,  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair, 
^nd  closing  the  same  eye  more  emphatically,  and  folding  her 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  749 

arms  tighter,  suffered  her  head  to  roll  slowly  from  side  to 
side,  while  she  surveyed  her  friend  with  a  contemptuous 
smile. 

Mrs.  Gamp  resumed: 

"  Mrs.  Harris,  Betsey — " 

"  Bother  Mrs.  Harris  !  "  said  Betsey  Prig. 

Mrs.  Gamp  looked  at  her  with  amazement,  incredulity, 
and  indignation  ;  when  Mrs.  Prig,  shutting  her  eyes  still 
closer,  and  folding  her  arms  still  tighter,  uttered  these  mem- 
orable and  tremendous  words: 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  no  sich  a  person  !  " 

After  the  utterance  of  which  expressions,  she  leaned  for- 
ward, and  snapped  her  fingers  once,  twice,  thrice;  each  time 
nearer  to  the  face  of  Mrs.  Gamp,  and  then  rose  to  put  on  her 
bonnet,  as  one  who  felt  that  there  was  now  a  gulf  between 
them,  which  nothing  could  ever  bridge  across. 

The  shock  of  this  blow  was  so  violent  and  sudden  that 
Mrs.  Gamp  sat  staring  at  nothing  with  uplifted  eyes,  and  her 
mouth  open  as  if  she  were  gasping  for  breath,  until  Betsey 
Prig  had  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  was  gathering 
the  latter  about  her  throat.  Then  Mrs.  Gamp  rose — morally 
and  physically  rose — and  denounced  her. 

"  What  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  *'  you  bage  creetur,  have  I 
know'd  Mrs.  Harris  five-and-thirty  year,  to  be  told  at  last 
that  there  ain't  no  sech  a  person  livin'  !  Have  I  stood 
her  friend  in  all  her  troubles,  great  and  small,  for  it  to  come 
at  last  to  sech  a  end  as  this,  which  her  own  sweet  picture 
hanging  up  afore  you  all  the  time,  to  shame  your  Bragian 
words  !  But  well  you  mayn't  believe  there's  no  sech  a  cree- 
tur, for  she  wouldn't  demean  herself  to  look  at  you,  and 
often  has  she  said,  when  I  have  made  mention  of  your  name 
which,  to  my  sinful  sorrow,  I  have  done,  '  What,  Sairey 
Gamp  !  debage  yourself  to  /ler  !  '     Go  along  with  you  !  " 

"  I'm  a  goin',  ma'am,  ain't  I  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Prig,  stopping 
as  she  said  it. 

"  You  had  better,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs,  Gamp. 

"  Do  you  know  who  you're  talking  to,  ma'am  ?  "  inquired 
her  visitor. 

**  Aperiently,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  surveying  her  with  scorn 
from  head  to  foot,  "  to  Betsey  Prig.  Aperiently  so.  /  know 
her.     No  one  better.     Go  along  with  you  !  " 

"  Kxi^you  was  a  going  to  take  me  under  you  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Prig,  surveying  Mrs.  Gamp  from  head  to  foot  in  her  turn. 
*'  You  was,  was  you  ?    Oh,  how  kind  !     Why,  deuce  take 


750  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

your  imperence,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  with  a  rapid  change  from 
banter  to  ferocity,  "  wheat  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Go  along  with  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  I  blush  for 
you." 

"  You  had  better  blush  a  little  for  yourself,  while  you 
are  about  it  !  "  said  Mrs.  Prig.  "  You  and  your  Chuffeys  ! 
What,  the  poor  old  crcetur  isn't  mad  enough,  isn't  he  ? 
Aha  ! " 

"  He'd  very  soon  be  mad  enough,  if  you  had  any  thing  to 
do  with  him,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

''And  that's  what  I  was  wanted  for,  is  it?"  cried  Mrs. 
Prig,  triumphantly.  "  Yes.  But  you'll  find  yourself 
deceived.  I  won't  go  near  him.  We  shall  see  how  you  get 
on  without  me.     I  won't  have  nothink  to  do  with  him." 

"  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word  than  that  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Gamp.     "  Go  along  with  you  !  " 

She  was  prevented  from  witnessing  the  actual  retirement 
of  Mrs.  Prig  from  the  room,  notwithstanding  the  great  desire 
she  had  expressed  to  behold  it,  by  that  lady,  in  her  angry 
withdrawal,  coming  into  contact  with  the  bedstead,  and 
bringing  down  the  previously-mentioned  pippins  ;  three  or 
four  of  which  came  rattling  on  the  head  of  Mrs.  Gamp  so 
smartly,  that  when  she  recovered  from  this  wooden  shower- 
bath,  Mrs.  Prig  was  gone. 

She  had  the  satisfaction,  however,  of  hearing  the  deep 
voice  of  Betsey,  proclaiming  her  injuries  and  her  determina- 
tion to  have  nothing  to  do  with  Mr.  Chuffey,  down  the  stairs, 
and  along  the  passage,  and  even  out  in  Kingsgate  Street. 
Likewise  of  seeing  in  her  own  apartment,  in  the  place  of 
Mrs.  Prig,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  and  two  gentlemen. 

"  Why,  bless  my  life!  "  exclaimed  the  little  barber,  "  what's 
amiss  ?  The  noise  you  ladies  have  been  making,  Mrs.  Gamp! 
Why,  these  two  gentlemen  have  been  standing  on  the  stairs, 
outside  the  door,  nearly  all  the  time,  trying  to  make  you 
hear,  while  you  were  pelting  away,  hammer  and  tongs  !  It'll 
be  the  death  of  the  little  bullfinch  in  the  shop,  that  draws 
his  own  water.  In  his  fright,  he's  been  a  straining  himself 
all  to  bits,  drawing  more  water  than  he  could  drink  in  a 
twelvemonth.     He  must  have  thought  it  was  fire  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  in  the  meanwhile  sunk  into  her  chair, 
from  whence,  turning  up  her  overflowing  eyes,  and  clasping 
her  hands,  she  delivered  the  following  lamentation  : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,  which  Mr.  Westlock  also,  if  my 
eyes  do  not  deceive,  and  a  friend  not  havin'  tlie  pleasure  of 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  751 

bein'  beknown,  wot  I  have  took  from  Betsey  Prig  this 
blessed  night,  no  mortal  creetur  knows  '  If  she  had  abuged 
me,  bein'  in  liquor,  which  I  thought  I  smelt  her  wen  she 
come,  but  could  not  so  believe,  not  bein'  used  myself" — 
Mrs.  Gamp,  by  the  way,  was  pretty  far  gone,  and  the  fra- 
grance of  the  tea-pot  was  strong  in  the  room — **  I  could 
have  bore  it  with  a  thankful  art.  But  the  words  she  spoke 
of  Mrs.  Harris,  lambs  could  not  forgive.  No,  Betsey  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  violent  burst  of  feeling,  "  nor  worms 
forget  !  " 

The  little  barber  scratched  his  head,  and  shook  it,  and 
looked  at  the  tea-pot,  and  gradually  got  out  of  the  room. 
John  Westlock,  taking  a  chair,  sat  down  on  one  side  of  Mrs. 
Gamp.  Martin  taking  the  foot  of  the  bed,  supported  her 
on  the  other. 

"  You  wonder  what  we  want,  I  dare  say,"  observed  John. 
"  I'll  tell  you  presently,  when  you  have  recovered.  It's  not 
pressing,  for  a  few  minutes  or  so.  How  do  you  find  your- 
self .?     Better?" 

Mrs.  Gamp  shed  more  tears,  shook  her  head,  and  feebly 
pronounced  Mrs.  Harris's  name. 

"  Have  a  little — "  John  was  at  a  loss  what  to  call  it. 

'*Tea,"  suggested  Martin. 

"It  ain't  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Physic  of  some  sort,  I  suppose,"  cried  John.  "  Have  a 
little." 

Mrs.  Gamp  was  prevailed  upon  to  take  a  glassful.  "  On 
condition,"  she  passionately  observed,  "  as  Betsey  never  has 
another  stroke  of  work  from  me." 

'^  Certainly  not,"  said  John.  "  She  shall  never  help  to 
nurse  me." 

"  To  think,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  ^'  as  she  could  ever  have 
helped  to  nuss  that  friend  of  yourn,  and  been  so  near  of 
hearing  things  that — Ah  !  " 

John  looked  at  Martin. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.    "  That  was  a  narrow  escape,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  Narrer,  in-deed  !  "  she  returned.  "  It  was  only  my 
having  the  night,  and  hearin'  of  him  in  his  wanderins  ;  and 
her  the  day,  that  saved  it.  Wot  would  she  have  said  and 
done,  if  she  had  know'd  what  /  know  ;  that  perfeejus 
wretch  !  Yet,  oh  good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp, 
trampling  on  the  floor,  in  the  absence  of  Mrs.  Prig,  "  that  I 
should  hear  from  that  same  woman's  lips  what  I  have  heerd 
her  speak  of  Mrs.  Karris  !  ' 


752  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 


"  Never  mind,"  said  John.     "You  know  it  is  not  true." 

"  Isn't  true  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  True  !  Don't  I  know 
as  that  dear  woman  is  expecting  of  me- at  this  minnit,  Mr. 
Westlock,  and  is  a  lookin'  out  of  window  down  the  street, 
with  little  Tommy  Harris  in  her  arms,  as  calls  me  his  own 
Gammy,  and  truly  calls,  for  bless  the  mottled  little  legs  of 
that  there  precious  child  (like  Canterbury  Brawn  his  own 
dear  father  says,  which  so  they  are)  his  own  I  have  been, 
ever  since  I  found  him,  Mr.  Westlock,  with  his  small  red 
worsted  shoe  a  gurglin'  in  his  throat,  where  he  had  put  it  in 
his  play,  a  chick,  wile  they  was  leavin'  of  him  on  the  floor  a 
looking  for  it  through  the  ouse  and  him  a  choakin'  sweetly  in 
the  parlor  !  Oh,  Betsey  Prig,  what  wickedness  you've 
showed  this  night,  but  never  shall  you  darken  Sairey's  doors 
agen,  you  twining  serpiant !  " 

"  You  were  always  so  kind  to  her,  too  !  "  said  John,  con- 
solingly. 

"  That's  the  cutting  part.  That's  where  it  hurts  me,  Mr. 
Westlock,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied;  holding  out  her  glass  uncon- 
sciously, while  Martin  filled  it. 

''  Chosen  to  help  you  with  Mr.  Lewsome  !  "  said  John. 
**  Chosen  to  help  you  with  Mr.  Chuffey  !  " 

"  Chose  once,  but  chose  no  more,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  No  pardnership  with  Betsey  Prig  agen,  sir  !  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  John.     "  That  would  never  do." 

"  I  don't  know  as  it  ever  would  have  done,  sir,"  Mrs. 
Gamp  replied,  with  the  solemnity  peculiar  to  a  certain  stage 
of  intoxication.  "  Now  that  the  marks,"  by  which  Mrs. 
Gamp  is  supposed  to  have  meant  mask,  "  is  off  that  creetur's 
face,  I  do  not  think  it  ever  would  have  done.  There  are 
reagions  in  famiUes  for  keeping  things  a  secret,  Mr.  West- 
lock,  and  havin'  only  them  about  you  as  you  knows  you  can 
repoge  in.  Who  could  repoge  in  Betsey  Prig,  arter  her 
words  of  Mrs.  Harris,  setting  in  that  chair  afore  my  eyes  !  " 

"  Quite  true,"  said  John  ;  "  quite.  I  hope  you  have  time 
to  find  another  assistant,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  " 

Between  her  indignation  and  the  tea-pot,  her  powers  of 
comprehending  what  was  said  to  her  began  to  fail.  She 
looked  at  John  with  tearful  eyes,  and  murmuring  the  well- 
remembered  name  which  Mrs.  Prig  had  challenged — as  if  it 
were  a  talisman  against  all  earthly  sorrows — seemed  to 
^wander  in  her  mind. 

"  I  hope,"  repeated  John,  **  that  you  have  time  to  find 
another  assistant?'' 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  753 

**  Which  short  it  is,  indeed,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  turning  up 
her  languid  eyes,  and  clasping  Mr.  Westlock's  wrist  v/ith 
matronly  affection.  "  To-morrow  evenin',  sir,  I  waits  upon 
his  friends.     Mr.  Chuzzlewit  apinted  it  from  nine  to  ten." 

"  From  nine  to  ten,"  said  John,  with  a  significant  glance 
at  Martin  ;  '*  and  then  Mr.  Chuffey  retires  into  safe  keep- 
ing, does  he? " 

*'  He  needs  to  be  kep  safe,  I  do  assure  you,"  Mrs.  Gamp 
replied,  with  a  mysterious  air.  "  Other  people  besides  me 
has  had  a  happy  deliverance  from  Betsey  Prig.  I  little 
know'd  that  woman.     She'd  have  let  it  out  !  " 

**  Let  him  out,  you  mean,"  said  John. 

*'  Do  I  !  "  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp.     ''  Oh  !  " 

The  severely  ironical  character  of  this  reply  was  strength- 
ened by  a  very  slow  nod,  and  a  still  slower  drawing  down  of 
the  corners  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  mouth.  She  added  with  extreme 
stateliness  of  manner,  after  indulging  in  a  short  doze  : 

"  But  I  am  a  keepin'  of  you  gentlemen,  and  time  is  pre- 
cious." 

Mingling  with  that  delusion  of  the  tea-pot  which  inspired 
her  with  the  belief  that  they  wanted  her  to  go  somewhere 
immediately,  a  shrewd  avoidance  of  any  further  reference  to 
the  topics  into  which  she  had  lately  strayed,  Mrs.  Gamp 
rose  ;  and  putting  away  the  tea-pot  in  its  accustomed  place, 
and  locking  the  cupboard  with  much  gravity,  proceeded  to 
attire  herself  for  a  professional  visit. 

This  preparation  was  easily  made,  as  it  required  nothing 
more  than  the  snuffy  black  bonnet,  the  snuffy  black  shawl, 
the  pattens,  and  the  indispensable  umbrella,  without  which 
neither  a  lying-in  nor  a  lying-out  could  by  any  possibility  be 
attempted.  When  Mrs.  Gamp  had  invested  herself  with 
these  appendages  she  returned  to  her  chair,  and  sitting  down 
again,  declared  herself  quite  ready. 

"  It's  a  appiness  to  know  as  one  can  benefit  the  poor 
sweet  creetur,"  she  observed,  "  I'm  sure.  It  isn't  alias  can. 
The  torters  Betsey  Prig  inflicts  is  frightful  !  " 

Closing  her  eyes  as  she  made  this  remark,  in  the  acute- 
ness  of  her  commiseration  for  Betsey's  patience,  she  forgot 
to  open  them  again  until  she  dropped  a  patten.  Her  nap 
was  also  broken  at  intervals,  like  the  fabled  slumbers  of 
Friar  Bacon,  by  the  dropping  of  the  other  patten,  and  of  the 
umbrella.  But  when  she  had  got  rid  of  these  incumbrances, 
her  sleep  was  peaceful. 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  each  other,  ludicrously 


754  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

enough  ;  and  Martin,  stifling  his  disposition  to  laugh,  whis- 
pered in  John  Westlock's  ear, 

"  What  shall  we  do  now  ?  " 

"  Stay  here,"  he  replied. 

Mrs.  Gamp  was  heard  to  murmur  "  Mrs.  Harris  "  in  her 
sleep  : 

''  Rely  upon  it,"  whispered  John,  looking  cautiously  to- 
ward her,  "  that  you  shall  question  this  old  clerk,  though 
you  go  as  Mrs.  Harris  herself.  We  know  quite  enough  to 
carry  her  our  own  way  now,  at  all  events;  thanks  to  this  quar- 
rel, which  confirms  the  old  saying,  that  when  rogues  fall  out, 
honest  people  get  what  they  want.  Let  Jonas  Chuzzlewit 
look  to  himself;  and  let  her  sleep  as  long  as  she  likes.  We 
shall  gain  our  end  in  good  time." 


CHAPTER  L. 

SURPRISES  TOM    PINCH  VERY  MUCH,  AND  SHOWS  HOW   CERTAIN 
CONFIDENCES  PASSED  BETWEEN  HIM  AND  HIS  SISTER. 

It  was  the  next  evening;  and  Tom  and  his  sister  were 
sitting  together  before  tea,  talking,  in  their  usual  quiet  way, 
about  a  great  many  things,  but  not  at  all  about  Lewsome's 
story  or  any  thing  connected  with  it;  for  John  Westlock — 
really  John,  for  so  young  a  man,  was  one  of  the  most  con- 
siderate fellows  in  the  world — had  particularly  advised  Tom 
not  to  mention  it  to  his  sister  just  yet,  in  case  he  should  dis- 
quiet her.  *'  And  I  wouldn't,  Tom,"  he  said,  with  a  little 
hesitation,  "  I  wouldn't  have  a  shadow  on  her  happy  face,  or 
an  uneasy  thought  in  her  gentle  heart,  for  all  the  wealth  and 
honors  of  the  universe  !  "  Really  John  was  uncommonly 
kind  ;  extraordinarily  kind.  If  he  had  been  her  father,  Tom 
said,  he  could  not  have  taken  a  greater  interest  in  her. 

But  although  Tom  and  his  sister  were  extremely  conversa- 
tional, they  were  less  lively,  and  less  cheerful,  than  usual. 
Tom  had  no  idea  that  this  originated  with  Ruth,  but  took  it 
for  granted  that  he  was  rather  dull  himself.  In  truth  he  was: 
for  the  lightest  cloud  upon  the  heaven  of  her  quiet  mind, 
cast  its  shadow  upon  Tom. 

And  there  was  a  cloud  on  little  Ruth  that  evening.  Yes, 
indeed.  When  Tom  was  looking  in  another  direction,  her 
bright  eyes,  stealing  on  toward  his  face,  would  sparkle  still 
more  brightly  than  their  custom  was,  and  then  grow  dim. 


MARTIN  CPfUZZLEWIT.  755 

When  Tom  was  silent,  looking  out  upon  the  summer  weather, 
she  would  sometimes  make  a  hasty  movement,  as  if  she  were 
about  to  throw  herself  upon  his  neck;  then  check  the  im- 
pulse, and  when  he  looked  round,  show  a  laughing  face, 
and  speak  to  him,  very  merrily;  when  she  had  any  thing  to 
give  Tom,  or  had  any  excuse  for  coming  near  him,  she  would 
flutter  about  him,  and  lay  her  bashful  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der, and  not  be  willing  to  withdraw  it  ;  and  would  show  by 
all  such  means  that  there  was  something  on  her  heart  which 
in  her  great  love  she  longed  to  say  to  him,  but  had  not  the 
courage  to  utter. 

So  they  were  sitting,  she  with  her  work  before  her,  but  not 
working,  and  Tom  with  his  book  beside  him,  but  not  read- 
ing, when  Martin  knocked  at  the  door.  Anticipating  who  it 
was,  Tom  went  to  open  it;  and  he  and  Martin  came  back 
into  the  room  together.  Tom  looked  surprised,  for  in  answer 
to  his  cordial  greeting  Martin  had  hardly  spoken  a  word. 

Ruth  also  saw  that  there  was  something  strange  in  the 
manner  of  their  visitor,  and  raised  her  eyes  inquiringly  to 
Tom's  face,  as  if  she  were  seeking  an  explanation  there. 
Tom  shook  his  head,  and  made  the  same  mute  appeal  to 
Martin. 

Martin  did  not  sit  down,  but  walked  up  to  the  window, 
and  stood  there,  looking  out.  He  turned  round  after  a  few 
moments  to  speak,  but  hastily  averted  his  head  again,  without 
doing  so. 

"  What  has  happened,  Martin  ?  "  Tom  anxiously  inquired. 
"  My  dear  fellow,  what  bad  news  do  you  bring  ?  " 

''  Oh  Tom  I "  replied  Martin,  in  a  tone  of  deep  reproach. 
"  To  hear  you  feign  that  interest  in  any  thing  that  happens 
to  me.  hurts  me  even  more  than  your  ungenerous  dealing." 

"  My  ungenerous  dealing,  Martin  !  My —  "  Tom  could 
say  no  more. 

**  How  could  you,  Tom,  how  could  you  suffer  me  to  thank 
you  so  fervently  and  sincerely  for  your  friendship,  and  not 
tell  me,  like  a  man,  that  you  had  deserted  me  !  Was  it  true, 
Tom  !  Was  it  honest  !  Was  it  worthy  of  what  you  used  to 
be:  of  what  1  am  sure  you  used  to  be:  to  tempt  me,  when 
you  had  turned  against  me,  into  pouring  out  my  heart  !  Oh 
Tom  !  " 

His  tone  was  one  of  such  strong  injury  and  yet  of  so  much 
grief  for  the  loss  of  a  friend  he  had  trusted  in;  it  expressed 
such  high  past  love  for  Tom,  and  so  much  sorrow  and  com- 
passion for  his  supposed  unworthiness;  that  Tom,  for  a  mo- 


'/SO  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ment,  put  his  hand  before  his  face,  and  had  no  more  power 
of  justifying  himself,  than  if  he  had  been  a  monster  of  de- 
ceit and  falsehood. 

"  I  protest,  as  I  must  die,"  said  Martin,  "  that  I  grieve 
over  the  loss  of  what  I  thought  5^ou  ;  and  have  no  anger  in 
the  recollection  of  my  own  injuries.  It  is  only  at  such  a 
time,  and  after  such  a  discovery,  that  we  know  the  full 
measure  of  our  old  regard  for  the  subject  of  it.  I  swear, 
little  as  I  showed  it;  little  as  I  know  I  showed  it  ;  that 
when  I  had  the  least  consideration  for  you,  Tom,  I  loved 
you  like  a  brother." 

Tom  was  composed  by  this  time,  and  might  have  been  the 
spirit  of  truth,  in  a  homely  dress — it  very  often  wears  a 
homely  dress,  thank  God  ! — when  he  replied  to  him. 

*'  Martin,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know  what  is  in  your  mind,  or 
who  has  abused  it,  or  by  what  extraordinary  means.  But 
the  means  are  false.  There  is  no  truth  whatever  in  the  im- 
pression under  which  you  labor.  It  is  a  delusion  from  first 
to  last;  and  I  warn  you  that  you  will  deeply  regret  the 
wrong  you  do  me.  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  have  been  true 
to  you,  and  to  myself.  You  will  be  very  sorry  for  this.  In- 
deed you  will  be  very  sorry  for  it,  Martin." 

*' I  am  sorry,"  returned  Martin,  shaking  his  head.  "I 
think  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  be  sorry  in  my  heart, 
until  now." 

"  At  least,"  said  Tom,  "  if  I  had  always  been  what  you 
charge  me  with  being  now,  and  had  never  had  a  place  in 
your  regard,  but  had  always  been  despised  by  you,  and  had 
always  deserved  it,  you  should  tell  me  in  what  you  have 
found  me  to  be  treacherous  ;  and  on  what  grounds  you  pro- 
ceed. I  do  not  entreat  you,  therefore,  to  give  me  that  sat- 
isfaction as  a  favor,  Martin,  but  I  ask  it  of  you  as  a 
right." 

"  My  own  eyes  are  my  witnesses,"  returned  Martin.  "Am 
I  to  believe  them  ?" 

"No,"  said  Tom,  calmly,  "not  if  they  accuse  me." 

"  Your  own  words.  Your  own  manner,"  pursued  Martin. 
"Am  I  to  believe  them  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Tom,  calmly,  "  not  if  they  accuse  me.  But 
they  never  have  accused  me.  Whoever  has  perverted 
them  to  such  a  purpose,  has  wronged  me  almost  as  cruelly  ;  " 
his  calmness  rather  failed   him   here;  "as  you  have   done." 

"  I  came  here,"  said  Martin;  "  and  I  appeal  to  your  good 
sister  to  hear  me — " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  757 

"  Not  to  her,"  interrupted  Tom.  **  Pray,  do  not  appeal  to 
her.     She  will  never  believe  you." 

He  drew  her  arm  through  his  own,  as  he  said  it. 

"/  believe  it,  Tom  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Tom,  "of  course  not.  I  said  so.  Why, 
tut,  tut,  tut.     What  a  silly  little  thing  you  are  !  " 

"  I  never  meant,"  said  Martin,  hastily,  ''  to  appeal  to  you 
against  your  brother.  Do  not  think  me  so  unmanly  and 
unkind.  I  merely  appealed  to  you  to  hear  my  declaration, 
that  I  came  here  for  no  purpose  of  reproach — I  have  not 
one  reproach  to  vent — but  in  deep  regret.  You  could  not 
know  in  what  bitterness  of  regret,  unless  you  knew  how  often 
I  have  thought  of  Tom;  how  long  in  almost  hopeless  cir- 
cumstances, I  have  looked  forward  to  the  better  estimation 
of  his  friendship  ;  and  hov/  steadfastly  I  have  believed  and 
trusted  in  him." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tom,  stopping  her  as  she  was  about  to 
speak.  '*  He  is  mistaken.  He  is  deceived.  Why  should 
you  mind.     He  is  sure  to  be  set  right  at  last." 

"  Heaven  bless  the  day  that  sets  me  right  ! "  cried  Mar- 
tin, "  if  it  could  ever  come  !  " 

"  Amen  !  "  said  Tom.    **  And  it  will." 

Martin  paused,  and  then  said  in  a  still  milder  voice  : 

"  You  have  chosen  for  yourself,  Tom,  and  will  be  relieved 
by  our  parting.  It  is  not  an  angry  one.  There's  no  anger 
on  my  side — " 

"There's  none  on  mine,"  said  Tom. 

" — it  is  merely  what  you  have  brought  about  and  worked 
to  bring  about.  I  say  again,  you  have  chosen  for  yourself. 
You  have  made  the  choice  that  might  have  been  expected 
in  most  people  situated  as  you  are,  but  which  I  did  not 
expect  in  you.  For  that,  perhaps,  I  should  blame  my  own 
judgment  more  than  you.  There  is  wealth  and  favor 
worth  having,  on  one  side  ;  and  there  is  the  worthless 
friendship  of  an  abandoned,  struggling  fellow  on  the  other. 
You  were  free  to  make  your  election,  and  you  made  it  ;  and 
the  choice  was  not  difficult.  But  those  who  have  not  the 
courage  to  resist  such  temptations,  should  have  the 
courage  to  avow  that  they  have  yielded  to  them  ;  and 
I  do  blame  you  for  this,  Tom  ;  that  you  received  me  with  a 
show  of  warmth,  encouraged  me  to  be  frank  and  plain- 
spoken,  tempted  me  to  confide  in  you,  and  professed  that 
you  were  able  to  be  mine  ;  when  you  had  sold  yourself  to 
others.     I    did    not   believe,"    said   Martin,   with   emotion  : 


75S  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

**  hear  me  say  it  from  my  heart;  lean  not  believe,  Tom, 
now  that  I  am  standing  face  to  face  with  you,  that  it  would 
have  been  in  your  nature  to  do  me  any  serious  harm,  even 
though  I  had  not  discovered,  by  chance,  in  whose  employ- 
ment you  were.  But  I  should  have  encumbered  you  ;  I 
should  have  led  you  into  more  double-dealing  ;  I  should  have 
hazarded  your  retaining  the  favor  for  which  you  have  paid  so 
high  a  price,  bartering  away  your  former  self  ;  and  it  is  best 
for  both  of  us  that  I  have  found  out  what  you  so  much  de- 
sire to  keep  secret." 

"  Be  just,"  said  Tom  ;  who  had  not  removed  his  mild 
gaze  from  Martin's  face  since  the  commencement  of  this 
last  address  ;  "  be  just  even  in  your  injustice,  Martin.  You 
forget.    You  have  not  told  to  me  what  your  accusation  is  !  " 

"Why  should  I  .^ "  returned  Martin,  waving  his  hand, 
and  moving  toward  the  door.  *'  You  could  not  know  it  the 
better  for  my  dwelling  on  it,  and  though  it  would  be  really 
none  the  worse,  it  might  seem  to  me  to  be.  No,  Tom.  By- 
gones shall  be  by-gones  between  us.  I  can  take  leave  of  you 
at  this  moment,  and  in  this  place  ;  in  which  you  are  amiable 
and  so  good  ;  as  heartily  if  not  as  cheerfully,  as  ever  I 
have  done  since  we  first  met.     All  good  go  with  you,  Tom  ! 

"  You  leave  me  so  ?  You  can  leave  me  so,  can  you  ?  " 
said  Tom. 

"  I — you — you  have  chosen  for  yourself,  Tom  !  I — I  hope 
it  was  a  rash  choice,"  Martin  faltered.  "  I  think  it  was.  I 
am  sure  it  was  !     Good-by  !  " 

And  he  was  gone. 

Tom  led  his  little  sister  to  her  chair,  and  sat  down  in  his 
own.  He  took  his  book,  and  read,  or  seemed  to  read. 
Presently  he  said  aloud  :  turning  a  leaf  as  he  spoke  :  **  He 
will  be  very  sorry  for  this,"  and  a  tear  stole  down  his  face, 
and  dropped  upon  the  page. 

Ruth  nestled  down  beside  him  on  her  knees,  and  clasped 
her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  No,  Tom  !     No,  no  !     Be  comforted  !     Dear  Tom  !  " 

*'  I  am  quite — comforted,"  said  Tom.  "  It  will  be  set 
right." 

"  Such  a  cruel,  bad  return  !  "  cried  Ruth. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom.  *'  He  believes  it.  I  can  not  imagine 
why.     But  it  will  be  set  right." 

More  closely  yet  she  nestled  down  about  him  ;  and  wept 
as  if  her  heart  would  break. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  759 

"  Don't.  Don't,"  said  Tom.  **  Why  do  you  hide  your  face, 
my  dear  ?  " 

Then  in  a  burst  of  tears  it  all  broke  out  at  last. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  dear  Tom,  I  know  your  secret  heart.  I  have 
found  it  out  ;  you  couldn't  hide  the  truth  from  me.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  ?  I  am  sure  I  could  have  made  you  hap- 
pier, if  you  had  [     You  love  her,  Tom,  so  dearly  !  " 

Tom  made  a  motion  with  his  hand  as  if  he  would  have 
put  his  sister  hurriedly  away  ;  but  it  clasped  upon  hers,  and 
all  his  little  history  was  written  in  the  action.  All  its  pa- 
thetic eloquence  was  in  the  silent  ^ouch. 

"  In  spite  of  that,"  said  Ruth,  "  you  have  been  so  faithful 
and  so  good,  dear  ;  in  spite  of  that,  you  have  been  so  true 
and  self-denying,  and  have  struggled  with  yourself ;  in  spite 
of  that,  you  have  been  so  gentle  and  so  kind,  and  even- 
tempered,  that  I  have  never  seen  you  give  a  hasty  look,  or 
heard  you  say  one  irritable  word.  In  spite  of  all,  you  have 
been  so  cruelly  mistaken.  Oh  Tom,  dear  Tom,  will  this  be 
set  right  too  !  Will  it,  Tom  ?  Will  you  always  have  this  sor- 
row in  your  breast  ;  you  who  deserve  to  be  so  happy  ; 
or  is  there  any  hope  ? " 

And  still  she  hid  her  face  from  Tom,  and  clasped  him 
round  the  neck,  and  wept  for  him,  and  poured  out  all  her 
woman's  heart  and  soul  in  the  relief  and  pain  of  this  disclosure. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  she  and  Tom  were  sitting  side 
by  side,  and  she  was  looking  with  an  earnest  quietness  in 
Tom's  face.  Then  Tom  spoke  to  her  thus:  cheerily,  though 
gravely. 

"  I  am  very  glad,  my  dear,  that  this  has  passed  between 
us.  Not  because  it  assures  me  of  your  tender  affection  (for 
I  was  well  assured  of  that  before),  but  because  it  relieves  my 
mind  of  a  great  weight." 

Tom's  eyes  glistened  when  he  spoke  of  her  affection  ;  and 
he  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

''  My  dear  girl,"  said  Tom  :  '*  with  whatever  feeling  I  re- 
gard her  ;  "  they  seemed  to  avoid  the  name  by  mutual  con- 
sent ;  '*  I  have  long  ago — I  am  sure  I  may  say  from  the  very 
first — looked  upon  it  as  a  dream.  As  something  that  might 
possibly  have  happened  under  very  different  circumstances, 
but  which  can  never  be.  Now,  tell  me.  What  would  you 
have  set  right  ?" 

She  gave  Tom  such  a  significant  little  look,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  take  it  for  an  answer  whether  he  would  or  no  ; 
and  to  go  on. 


70O  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  By  her  own  choice  and  free  consent,  my  love,  she  is 
betrothed  to  Martin;  and  it  was  long  before  either  of  them 
knew  of  my  existence.  You  would  have  her  betrothed  to 
me  ? " 

*' Yes,"  she  said  directly. 

*'  Yes,"  rejoined  Tom,  ''  but  that  might  be  setting  it  wrong 
instead  of  right.  Do  you  think,"  said  Tom,  with  a  grave 
smile,  "  that  even  if  she  had  never  seen  him,  it  is  very  likely 
she  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  me  ? " 

"  Why  not,  dear  Tom  ?  " 

Tom  shook  his  head,  and  smiled  again. 

*'  You  think  of  me,  Ruth,"  said  Tom,  "  and  it  is  very 
natural  that  you  should,  as  if  I  were  a  character  in  a  book  ; 
and  you  make  it  a  sort  of  poetical  justice  that  I  should,  by 
some  impossible  means  or  other,  come,  at  last,  to  marry  the 
person  I  love.  But  there  is  a  much  higher  justice  than  poet- 
ical justice,  my  dear,  and  it  does  not  order  events  upon  the 
same  principle.  Accordingly,  people  who  read  about  heroes 
in  books,  and  choose  to  make  heroes  of  themselves  out 
of  books,  consider  it  a  very  fine  thing  to  be  discontented 
and  gloomy,  and  misanthropical,  and  perhaps  a  little  blas- 
phemous, because  they  can  not  have  every  thing  ordered 
for  their  individual  accommodation.  Would  you  like  me  to 
become  one  of  that  sort  of  people  ?  " 

"  No,  Tom.  But  still  I  know,"  she  added  timidly,  "  that 
this  is  a  sorrow  to  you  in  your  own  better  way." 

Tom  thought  of  disputing  the  position.  But  it  would 
have  been  mere  folly,  and  he  gave  it  up. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Tom,  "  I  will  repay  your  affection  with 
the  truth,  and  all  the  truth.  It  is  a  sorrow  to  me.  I  have 
proved  it  to  be  so  sometimes,  though  I  have  always  striven 
against  it.  But  somebody  who  is  precious  to  you  may  die, 
and  you  may  dream  that  you  are  in  heaven  with  the  departed 
spirit,  and  you  may  find  it  a  sorrow  to  wake  to  the  life  on 
earth,  which  is  no  harder  to  be  borne  than  when  you  fell 
asleep.  It  is  sorrowful  to  me  to  contemplate  my  dream, 
which  I  always  knew  was  a  dream,  even  when  it  first  pre- 
sented itself;  but  the  realities  about  me  are  not  to  blame. 
They  are  the  same  as  they  were.  My  sister,  my  sweet  com- 
panion, who  makes  this  place  so  dear,  is  she  less  devoted  to 
me,  Ruth,  than  she  would  have  been,  if  this  vision  had  never 
troubled  me  ?  My  old  friend  John,  who  might  so  easily  have 
treated  me  with  coldness  and  neglect,  is  he  less  cordial  to 
me  ?     The  world  about  me,  is  there  less  good  in  that  ?   Are 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  7O1 

my  words  to  be  harsh  and  my  looks  to  be  sour,  and  is  my 
heart  to  grow  cold,  because  there  has  fallen  in  my  way  a 
good  and  beautiful  creature,  who  but  for  the  selfish  regret 
that  I  can  not  call  her  my  own,  would,  like  all  other  good 
and  beautiful  creatures,  make  me  happier  and  belter  !  No, 
my  dear  sister.  No,"  said  Tom,  stoutly.  "Remembering 
all  my  means  of  happiness,  I  hardly  dare  to  call  this  lurking 
something,  a  sorrow;  but  whatever  name  it  may  justly  bear,  I 
thank  heaven  that  it  renders  me  more  sensible  of  affection 
and  attachment,  and  softens  me  in  fifty  ways.  Not  less 
happy.     Not  less  happy,  Ruth  !  " 

She  could  not  speak  to  him,  but  she  loved  him,  as  he  well 
deserved.     Even  as  he  deserved,  she  loved  him. 

"  She  will  open  Martin's  eyes,"  said  Tom,  with  a  glow  of 
pride,  "  and  that  (which  is  indeed  wrong)  will  be  set  right. 
Nothing  will  persuade  her,  I  know,  that  I  have  betrayed  him. 
It  will  be  set  right  through  her,  and  he  will  be  very  sorry  for 
it.  Our  secret,  Ruth,  is  our  own,  and  lives  and  dies  with  us. 
I  don't  believe  I  ever  could  have  told  it  you,"  said  Tom, 
with  a  smile,  "  but  how  glad  I  am  to  think  you  have  found 
it  out  !" 

They  had  never  taken  such  a  pleasant  walk  as  they  took 
that  night.  Tom  told  her  all  so  freely,  and  so  simply,  and 
was  so  desirous  to  return  her  tenderness  with  his  fullest  con- 
fidence, that  they  prolonged  it  far  beyond  their  usual  hour, 
and  sat  up  late  when  they  came  home.  And  when  they 
parted  for  the  night  there  was  such  a  tranquil,  beautiful 
expression  in  Tom's  face,  that  she  could  not  bear  to  shut  it 
out,  but  going  back  on  tip-toe  to  his  chamber  door,  looked 
in  and  stood  there  till  he  saw  her,  and  then  embracing  him 
again,  withdrew.  And  in  her  prayers,  and  in  her  sleep — 
good  times  to  be  remembered  with  such  fervor,  Tom  !  — his 
name  was  uppermost. 

When  he  was  left  alone,  Tom  pondered  very  much  on  this 
discovery  of  hers,  and  greatly  wondered  what  had  led  her  to 
it.  "  Because,"  thought  Tom,  "  I  have  been  so  very  careful. 
It  was  foolish  and  unnecessary  in  me,  as  I  clearly  see  now, 
when  I  am  so  relieved  by  her  knowing  it;  but  I  have  been  so 
very  careful  to  conceal  it  from  her.  Of  course,  I  knew 
that  she  was  intelligent  and  quick,  and  for  that  reason  was 
more  upon  my  guard;  but  I  was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for 
this.  I  am  sure  her  discovery  has  been  sudden  too.  Dear 
me  !  "  saidTom.  "It's  a  most  singular  instance  of  penetra- 
tion ! " 


702  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Tom  could  not  get  it  out  of  his  head.  There  it  was,  when 
his  head  was  on  his  pillow. 

"  How  she  trembled  when  she  began  to  tell  me  she  knew 
it  !  "  thought  Tom,  recalling  all  the  little  incidents  and  cir- 
cumstances; "  and  how  her  face  flushed  !  But  that  was 
natural  !  Oh,  quite  natural  !  That  needs  no  accounting 
for." 

Tom  little  thought  how  natural  it  was.  Tom  little  knew 
that  there  was  that  in  Ruth's  own  heart,  but  newly  set  there, 
which  had  helped  her  to  the  reading  of  this  mystery.  Ah, 
Tom  !  He  didn't  understand  the  whispers  of  the  Temple 
fountain,  though  he  passed  it  every  day. 

Who  so  lively  and  cheerful  as  busy  Ruth  next  morning  ! 
Her  early  tap  at  Tom's  door,  and  her  light  foot  outside, 
would  have  been  music  to  him  though  she  had  not  spoken. 
But  she  said  it  was  the  brightest  morning  ever  seen;  and  so 
it  was;  and  if  it  had  been  otherwise,  she  would  have  made  it 
so  to  Tom, 

She  was  ready  with  his  neat  breakfast  when  he  went 
down-stairs,  and  had  her  bonnet  ready  for  the  early  walk, 
and  was  so  full  of  news  that  Tom  was  lost  in  wonder. 
She  might  have  been  up  all  night  collecting  it  for  his  enter- 
tainment. There  was  Mr.  Nadgett  not  come  home  yet,  and 
there  was  bread  down  a  penny  a  loaf,  and  there  was  twice  as 
much  strength  in  this  tea  as  in  the  last,  and  the  milk-woman's 
husband  had  come  out  of  the  hospital  cured,  and  the  curly- 
headed  child  over  the  way  had  been  lost  all  yesterday,  and 
she  was  going  to  make  all  sorts  of  preserves  in  a  desperate 
hurry,  and  there  happened  to  be  a  saucepan  in  the  house 
which  was  the  very  saucepan  for  the  purpose;  and  she  knew 
all  about  the  last  book  Tom  had  brought  home,  all  through, 
though  it  was  a  teazer  to  read;  and  she  had  so  much  to  tell 
him  that  she  had  finished  breakfast  first.  Then  she  had  her 
little  bonnet  on,  and  the  tea  and  sugar  locked  up,  and  the 
keys  in  her  reticule,  and  the  flower,  as  usual,  in  Tom's  coat, 
and  was  in  all  respects,  quite  ready  to  accompany  him,  be- 
fore Tom  knew  she  had  began  to  prepare.  And  in  short,  as 
Tom  said,  with  a  confidence  in  his  own  assertion  which 
amounted  to  a  defiance  of  the  public  in  general,  there  never 
was  such  a  little  woman. 

She  made  Tom  talkative.  It  was  impossible  to  resist  her. 
She  put  such  enticing  questions  to  him;  about  books,  and 
about  dates  of  churches,  and  about  organs,  and  about  the 
Temple,  and  about  all  kinds  of  things.   Indeed  she  lightened 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  763 

the  way  (and  Tom's  heart  with  it)  to  that  degree,  that  the 
Temple  looked  quite  blank  and  solitary  when  he  parted  from 
her  at  the  gate. 

"  No  Mr.  Fips's  friend  to-day,  I  suppose,"  thought  Tom, 
as  he  ascended  the  stairs. 

Not  yet,  at  any  rate,  for  the  door  was  closed  as  usual,  and 
Tom  opened  it  with  his  key.  He  had  got  the  books  into 
perfect  order  now,  and  had  mended  the  torn  leaves,  and  had 
pasted  up  the  broken  backs,  and  substituted  new  labels  for 
the  worn-out  letterings.  It  looked  a  different  place,  it  was 
so  orderly  and  neat.  Tom  felt  some  pride  in  contemplating 
the  change  he  had  wrought,  though  there  was  no  one  to  ap- 
prove or  disapprove  of  it. 

He  was  at  present  occupied  in  making  a  fair  copy  of  his 
draught  of  the  catalogue;  on  which,  as  there  was  no  hurry, 
he  was  painfully  concentrating  all  the  ingenious  and  labori- 
ous neatness  he  had  ever  expended  on  map  or  plan  in  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  workroom.  It  was  a  very  marvel  of  a  catalogue; 
for  Tom  sometimes  thought  he  was  really  getting  his  money 
too  easily,  and  he  had  determined  within  himself  that  this 
document  should  take  a  little  of  his  superfluous  leisure  out 
of  him. 

So,  with  pens  and  ruler,  and  compasses  and  india-rubber, 
and  pencil  and  black  ink,  and  red  ink,  Tom  worked  av/ay 
all  the  morning.  He  thought  a  good  deal  about  Martin,  and 
their  interview  of  yesterday,  and  w^ould  have  been  far  easier 
in  his  mind  if  he  could  have  resolved  to  confide  it  to  his 
friend  John,  and  to  have  taken  his  opinion  on  the  subject. 
But  besides  that  he  knew  what  Jahn's  boiling  indignation 
would  be,  he  bethought  himself  that  he  was  helping  Martin 
now  in  a  matter  of  great  moment,  and  that  to  deprive  the 
latter  of  his  assistance  at  such  a  crisis  of  affairs,  would  be  to 
inflict  a  serious  injury  upon  him, 

"  So  I'll  keep  it  to  myself,"  said  Tom,  with  a  sigh.  ''  I'll 
keep  it  to  myself." 

And  to  work  he  went  again,  more  assiduously  than  ever, 
with  the  pens,  and  the  ruler,  and  the  india-rubber,  and  the 
pencil,  and  the  black  ink,  and  the  red  ink,  that  he  might  for- 
get it. 

He  had  labored  away  for  another  hour  or  more,  when  he 
heard  a  footstep  in  the  entry,  down  below. 

"Ah!"  said  Tom,  looking  toward  the  door;  **  time  was, 
not  long  ago  either,  when  that  would  have  set  me  wondering 
and  expecting.     But  I  have  left  off  now." 


704  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

The  footstep  came  on,  up  the  stairs. 

"  Thirty-six,  thirty-seven,  thirty-eight,"  said  Tom,  count- 
ing. "  Now  you'll  stop.  Nobody  ever  comes  past  the  thirty* 
eighth  stair." 

The  person  did  stop,  certainly,  but  only  to  take  breath; 
for  up  the  footstep  came  again.  Forty,  forty-one,  forty-two, 
and  so  on. 

The  door  stood  open.  As  the  tread  advanced,  Tom 
looked  impatiently  and  eagerly  toward  it.  When  a  figure 
came  upon  the  landing,  and  arriving  in  the  door-way,  stopped 
and  gazed  at  him,  he  rose  up  from  his  chair,  and  half 
believed  he  saw  a  spirit. 

Old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  !  The  same  whom  he  had  left  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff's,  weak  and  sinking  ! 

The  same  ?  No,  not  the  same,  for  this  old  man,  though 
old,  was  strong,  and  leaned  upon  his  stick  with  a  vigorous 
hand,  while  with  the  other  he  signed  to  Tom  to  make  no 
noise.  One  glance  at  the  resolute  face,  the  watchful  eye,  the 
vigorous  hand  upon  the  staff,  the  triumphant  purpose  in  the 
figure,  and  such  a  light  broke  in  on  Tom  as  blinded  him. 

**  You  have  expected  me,"  said  Martin,  ".a  long  time." 

'*  I  was  told  that  my  employer  would  arrive  soon,"  said 
Tom;  ''but—" 

*'  I  know.  You  were  ignorant  who  he  was.  It  was  my 
desire.  I  am  glad  it  has  been  so  well  observed.  I  intended 
to  have  been  with  you  much  sooner.  I  thought  the  time  had 
come.  I  thought  I  could  know  no  more,  and  no  worse,  of 
him,  than  I  did  on  that  day  when  I  saw  you  last.  But  I  was 
wrong." 

He  had  by  this  time  come  up  to  Tom,  and  now  he  grasped 
his  hand. 

*'  I  have  lived  in  his  house,  Pinch,  and  had  him  fawning 
on  me  days  and  weeks  and  months.  You  know  it.  I  have 
suffered  him  to  treat  me  like  his  tool  and  instrument.  You 
know  it  ;  you  have  seen  me  there.  I  have  undergone  ten 
thousand  times  as  much  as  I  could  have  endured  if  I  had 
been  the  miserable  weak  old  man  he  took  me  for.  You  know 
it.  I  have  seen  him  offer  love  to  Mary.  You  know  it;  who 
better — who  better,  my  true  heart  !  I  have  had  his  base  soul 
bare  before  me,  day  by  day,  and  have  not  betrayed  myself 
once.  I  never  could  have  undergone  such  torture  but  for 
looking  forward  to  this  time." 

He  stopped,  even  in  the  passion  of  his  speech;  if  that 
can  be  called  passion  which  was  so  resolute  and  steady;  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  765 

press  Tom's  hand  again.  Then  he  said,  in  great  excite- 
ment : 

"  Close  the  door,  close  the  door.  He  will  not  be  long 
after  me,  but  may  come  too  soon.  The  time  now  drawing 
on,"  said  the  old  man,  hurriedly:  his  eyes  and  whole  face 
brightening  as  he  spoke  :  ''  will  make  amends  for  all.  I 
wouldn't  have  him  die  or  hang  himself,  for  millions  of 
golden  pieces  !     Close  the  door  !  " 

Tom  did  so,  hardly  knowing  yet  whether  he  was  awake,  or 
in  a  dream. 

CHAPTER  LI. 

SHEDS  NEW  AND  BRIGHTER  LIGHT  UPON  THE  VERY  DARK 
PLACE  ;  AND  CONTAINS  THE  SEQUEL  OF  THE  ENTERPRISE 
OF    MR.    JONAS    AND    HIS    FRIEND. 

The  night  had  now  come,  when  the  old  clerk  was  to  be 
delivered  over  to  his  keepers.  In  the  midst  of  his  guilty 
distractions,  Jonas  had  not  forgotten  it. 

It  was  a  part  of  his  guilty  state  of  mind  to  remember  it; 
for  on  his  persistence  in  the  scheme  depended  one  of  his 
precautions  for  his  own  safety.  A  hint,  a  word,  from  the  old 
man,  uttered  at  such  a  moment  in  attentive  ears,  might  fire 
the  train  of  suspicion,  and  destroy  him.  His  watchfulness 
of  every  avenue  by  which  the  discovery  of  his  guilt  might 
be  approached,  sharpened  with  his  sense  of  the  danger  by 
which  he  was  encompassed.  With  murder  on  his  soul,  and 
its  innumerable  alarms  and  terrors  dragging  at  him  night  and 
day,  he  would  have  repeated  the  crime,  if  he  had  seen  a 
path  of  safety  stretching  out  beyond.  It  was  in  his  punish- 
ment; it  was  in  his  guilty  condition.  The  very  deed  which 
his  fears  rendered  insupportable,  his  fears  would  have 
impelled  him  to  commit  again. 

But  keeping  the  old  man  close,  according  to  his  design, 
would  serve  his  turn.  His  purpose  was,  to  escape,  when  the 
first  alarm  and  wonder  had  subsided:  and  when  he  could 
make  the  attempt  without  awakening  instant  suspicion.  In 
the  meanwhile  these  women  would  keep  him  quiet  ;  and  if 
the  talking  humor  came  upon  him,  would  not  be  easily 
startled.     He  knew  their  trade. 

Nor  had  he  spoken  idly  when  he  said  the  old  man  should 
be  gagged.  He  had  resolved  to  insure  his  silence  ;  and  he 
looked  to  the  end,  not  the  means.     He  had  been  rough  and 


70G  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

rude  and  cruel  to  the  old  man  all  his  life  ;  and  violence  was 
natural  to  his  mind  in  connection  with  him.  *'  He  shall  be 
gagged  if  he  speaks,  and  pinioned  if  he  writes,"  said  Jonas, 
looking  at  him,  for  they  sat  alone  together.  "  He  is  mad 
enough  for  that  ;  I'll  go  through  with  it  !  " 

Hush  ! 

Still  listening  !  To  every  sound.  He  had  listened  ever 
since,  and  it  had  not  come  yet.  The  exposure  of  the  insur- 
ance office  ;  the  flight  of  Crimple  and  Bullamy  with  the 
plunder,  and  among  the  rest,  as  he  feared,  with  his  own  bill, 
which  he  had  not  found  in  the  pocket-book  of  the  murdered 
man,  and  which  with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  money  had  probably 
been  remitted  to  one  or  other  of  those  trusty  friends  for 
safe  deposit  at  the  banker's  ;  his  immense  losses  and  peril  of 
being  still  called  to  account  as  a  partner  in  the  broken  firm  ; 
all  these  things  rose  in  his  mind  at  one  time  and  always,  but 
he  could  not  contemplate  them.  He  was  aware  of  their 
presence,  and  of  the  rage,  discomfiture,  and  despair,  they 
brought  along  with  them  ;  but  he  thought — of  his  own  con- 
trolling power  and  direction,  he  thought — of  the  one  dread 
question  only.  When  they  would  find  the  body  in  the 
wood. 

He  tried — he  had  never  left  off  trying — not  to  forget  it 
was  there,  for  that  was  impossible,  but  to  forget  to  weary  him- 
self by  drawing  vivid  pictures  of  it  in  his  fancy  ;  by  going 
softly  about  it  and  about  it  among  the  leaves,  approaching 
it  nearer  and  nearer  through  a  gap  in  the  boughs,  and  start- 
ling the  very  flies  that  were  thickly  sprinkled  all  over  it,  like 
heaps  of  dried  currants.  His  mind  was  fixed  and  fastened 
on  the  discovery,  for  intelligence  of  which  he  listened  in- 
tently to  every  cry  and  shout  ;  listened  when  any  one  came 
in,  or  went  out ;  watched  from  the  window  the  people  who 
passed  up  and  down  the  street ;  mistrusted  his  own  looks 
and  words.  And  the  more  his  thoughts  were  set  upon  the 
discovery,  the  stronger  was  the  fascination  which  attracted 
them  to  the  thing  itself  :  lying  alone  in  the  wood.  He  was 
forever  showing  and  presenting  it,  as  it  were,  to  every  creat- 
ure whom  he  saw.  *'  Look  here  !  Do  you  know  of  this  ? 
Is  it  found  ?  Do  you  suspect  mc  ?  "  If  he  had  been  con- 
demned to  bear  the  body  in  his  arms,  and  lay  it  down  for 
recognition  at  the  feet  of  every  one  he  met,  it  could  not  have 
been  more  constantly  with  him,  or  a  cause  of  more  monoto- 
nous and  dismal  occupation  than  it  was  in  this  state  of  his 
mind. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  767 

Still  he  was  not  sorry.  It  was  no  contrition  or  remorse 
for  what  he  had  done  that  moved  him  ;  it  was  nothing  but 
alarm  for  his  own  security.  The  vague  consciousness  he 
possessed  of  having  wrecked  his  fortune  in  the  murderous 
venture,  intensified  his  hatred  and  revenge,  aj^d  made  him 
set  the  greater  store  by  what  he  had  gained.  The  man  was 
dead  ;  nothing  could  undo  that.  He  felt  a  triumph  yet,  in 
the  reflection. 

He  had  kept  a  jealous  watch  on  Chuffey,  ever  since  the 
deed  ;  seldom  leaving  him  but  on  compulsion,  and  then  for 
as  short  intervals  as  possible.  They  were  alone  together 
now.  It  was  twilight,  and  the  appointed  time  drew  near  at 
hand.  Jonas  walked  up  and  down  the  room.  The  old  man 
sat  in  his  accustomed  corner. 

The  slightest  circumstance  was  matter  of  disquiet  to  the 
murderer,  and  he  was  made  uneasy  at  this  time  by  the  absence 
of  his  wife,  who  had  left  home  early  in  the  afternoon,  and 
had  not  returned  yet.  No  tenderness  for  her  was  at  the 
bottom  of  this  ;  but  he  had  a  misgiving  that  she  might  have 
been  waylaid,  and  tempted  into  saying  something  that  would 
criminate  him  when  the  news  came.  For  any  thing  he 
knew,  she  might  have  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  room, 
while  he  was  away,  and  discovered  his  plot.  Confound  her, 
it  was  like  her  pale  face,  to  be  wandering  up  and  down  the 
house  !     Where  was  she  now  ? 

"  She  went  to  her  good  friend,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  the 
old  man,  when  he  asked  the  question  with  an  angry  oath. 

Ay  !  To  be  sure  !  Always  stealing  away  into  the  com- 
pany of  that  woman.  She  was  no  friend  of  his.  Who 
could  tell  what  devil's  mischief  they  might  hatch  together  ! 
Let  her  be  fetched  home  directly. 

The  old  man,  muttering  some  words  softly,  rose  as  if  he 
would  have  gone  himself,  but  Jonas  thrust  him  back  into  his 
chair  with  an  impatient  imprecation,  and  sent  a  servant-girl 
to  fetch  her.  When  he  had  charged  her  with  her  errand  he 
walked  to  and  fro  again,  and  never  stopped  till  she  came 
back,  which  she  did  pretty  soon  :  the  way  being  short  and 
the  woman  having  made  good  haste. 

Well !     Where  was  she  ?  Had  she  come  ? 

No.     She  had  left  there,  full  three  hours. 

"  Left  there  !     Alone  ?  " 

The  messenger  had  not  asked  ;    taking  that  for  granted. 

"  Curse  you  for  a  fool.     Bring  candles  !  " 

She  had  scarcely  left  the  room,   when  the   old  clerk,  who 


768  MARTIN  CHUZZLEU  IT. 

had  been  unusually  observant  of  him  ever  since  he  had  asked 
about  his  wife,  c^ime  suddenly  upon  him. 

**  Give  her  up  !  "  cried  the  old  man.  *'  Come  !  Give  her 
up  to  me  !  Tell  me  what  you  have  done  with  her.  Quick  ! 
I  have  made  no  promises  on  that  score.  Tell  me  what  you 
have  done  with  her," 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  his  collar  as  he  spoke,  and  grasped 
it  :  tightly  too. 

*'  You  shall  not  leave  me  !  "  cried  the  old  man.  *'  I  am 
strong  enough  to  cry  out  to  the  neighbors,  and  I  will,  unless 
you  give  her  up.     Give  her  up  to  me  !  " 

Jonas  was  so  dismayed  and  conscience-stricken,  that  he 
had  not  even  hardihood  enough  to  unclench  the  old  man's 
hands  with  his  own  ;  but  stood  looking  at  him  as  well  as  he 
could  in  the  darkness,  without  moving  a  finger.  It  was  as 
much  as  he  could  do  to  ask  him  what  he  meant. 

"  I  will  know  what  you  have  done  with  her  !  "  retorted 
Chuffey.  "  If  you  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head,  you  shall  answer 
it.     Poor  thing  !     Poor  thing  !     Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  old  madman  !  "  said  Jonas,  in  a  low  voice,  and 
with  trembling  lips.  "  What  bedlam  fit  has  come  upon  you 
now  ? " 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  me  mad,  seeing  what  I  have  seen 
in  this  house  !  "  cried  Chuffey.  "  Where  is  my  dear  old 
master  !  Where  is  his  only  son  that  I  have  nursed  upon  my 
knee,  a  child  !  Where  is  she,  she  who  was  the  last ;  she  that 
I've  seen  pining  day  by  day,  and  heard  weeping  in  the  dead 
of  night  !  She  was  the  last,  the  last  of  all  my  friends  ! 
Heaven  help  me,  she  was  the  very  last !  " 

Seeing  that  the  tears  were  stealing  down  his  face,  Jonas 
mustered  courage  to  unclench  his  hands,  and  push  him  off 
before  he  answered  : 

"  Did  you  hear  me  ask  for  her  ?  Did  you  hear  me  send 
for  her  ?  How  can  I  give  you  up  what  I  haven't  got,  idiot  ! 
Ecod,  rd  give  her  up  to  you  and  welcome,  if  I  could  ;  and 
a  precious  pair  you'd  be  !  " 

"  If  she  has  come  to  any  harm,"  cried  Chuffey,  "  mind  ! 
I'm  old  and  silly  ;  but  I  have  my  memory  sometimes  ;  and 
if  she  has  come  to  any  harm — " 

"  Devil  take  you,"  interrupted  Jonas,  but  in  a  suppressed 
voice  still  ;  ''  what  harm  do  you  suppose  she  has  come  to  ? 
I  know  no  more  where  she  is  than  you  do  ;  I  wish  I  did. 
Wait  till  she  comes  home,  and  see  ;  she  can't  be  long.  Will 
that  content  you  ?  " 


MARllN   CilUZ/l.hW  11.  709 

"  Mind  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  Not  a  hair  of  hei 
head  !  not  a  hair  of  her  head  ill-used  !  I  won't  bear  it.  I — I 
have  borne  it  too  long,  Jonas.  I  am  silent,  but  I — I — I  can 
speak.  I — I — I  can  speak — "  he  stammered,  as  he  crept 
back  to  his  chair,  and  turned  a  threatening,  though  a  feeble, 
look  upon  him. 

"  You  can  speak,  can  you  !  "  thought  Jonas.  "  So,  so, 
we'll  stop  your  speaking.  It's  well  I  know  of  this  in  good 
time.     Prevention  is  better  than  cure." 

He  had  made  a  poor  show  of  playing  the  bully  and  evinc- 
ing a  desire  to  conciliate  at  the  same  time,  but  was  so  afraid 
of  the  old  man  that  great  drops  had  started  out  upon  his 
brow  ;  and  they  stood  there  yet.  His  unusual  tone  of  voice 
and  agitated  manner  had  sufficiently  expressed  his  fear  ; 
but  his  face  would  have  done  so  now,  without  that  aid,  as  he 
had  again  walked  to  and  fro,  glancing  at  him  by  the  candle- 
light. 

He  stopped  at  the  window  to  think.  An  opposite  shop 
was  lighted  up  ;  and  the  tradesman  and  a  customer  were 
reading  some  printed  bill  together  across  the  counter.  The 
sight  brought  him  back,  instantly,  to  the  occupation  he  had 
forgotten.  "  Look  here  !  Do  you  know  of  this  ?  Is  it  found  ? 
Do  you  suspect  me  ?  " 

A  hand  upon  the  door.     "  What's  that  ?  " 

^'  A  pleasant  evenin',"  said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Gamp, 
"  though  warm,  which,  bless  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  we  must 
expect  when  cowcumbers  is  three  for  two-pence.  How  does 
Mr.  Chuffey  find  his  self  to-night,  sir  ?" 

Mrs.  Gamp  kept  particularly  close  to  the  door  in  saying 
this,  and  courtesied  more  than  usual.  She  did  not  appear  to 
be  quite  so  much  at  her  ease  as  she  generally  was. 

*'  Get  him  to  his  room,"  said  Jonas,  walking  up  to  her,  and 
speaking  in  her  ear.  "  He  has  been  raving  to-night — 
stark  mad.  Don't  talk  while  he's  here,  but  come  down 
again." 

"  Poor  sweet  dear  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  uncommon 
tenderness.     "  He's  all  of  a  tremble." 

"  Well,  he  may  be,"  said  Jonas,  "  after  the  mad  fit  he  has 
had.     Get  him  up  stairs." 

She  was  by  this  time  assisting  him  to  rise. 

"There's  my  blessed  old  chick  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a 
tone  that  was  at  once  soothing  and  encouraging.  "  There's 
my  darlin'  Mr.  Chuffey  !  Now  come  up  to  your  own  room, 
sir,  and  lay  down  on  your  bed  a  bit;  for  you're   a  shakin'  all 


770  MARTIM  CHUZZLEWIT. 

over,  as  if  your  precious  jints  was  hung  upon  wires.  That's 
a  good  creetur  !     Come  with  Sairey  !  " 

"  Is  she  come  home  ?  "  inquired  the  old  man. 

"  She'll  be  here  directly  minnit,"  returned  Mrs.  Gamp. 
"  Come  with  Sairey,  Mr.  Chuffey.  Come  with  your  own 
Sairey  !  " 

The  good  woman  had  no  reference  to  any  female  in  the 
world  in  promising  this  speedy  advent  of  the  person  for 
whom  Mr.  Chuffey  inquired,  but  merely  threw  it  out  as  a 
means  of  pacifying  the  old  man.  It  had  its  effect,  for  he 
permitted  her  to  lead  him  away:  and  they  quitted  the  room 
together. 

Jonas  looked  out  of  the  window  again.  They  were  still 
reading  the  printed  paper  in  the  shop  opposite,  and  a  third 
man  had  joined  in  the  perusal.  What  could  it  be,  to  inter- 
est them  so  ? 

A  dispute  or  discussion  seemed  to  arise  among  them,  for 
they  all  looked  up  from  their  reading  together,  and  one  of 
the  three,  who  had  been  glancing  over  the  shoulder  of  an- 
other, stepped  back  to  explain  or  illustrate  some  action  by 
his  gestures. 

Horror  !     How  like  the  blow  he  had  struck  in  the  wood ! 

It  beat  him  from  the  window  as  if  it  had  lighted  on  him- 
self. As  he  staggered  into  a  chair  he  thought  of  the  change 
in  Mrs.  Gamp,  exhibited  in  her  new-born  tenderness  to  her 
charge.  Was  that  because  it  was  found  ? — because  she 
knew  of  it  ? — because  she  suspected  him  ? 

"  Mr.  Chuffey  is  a  lyin'  down,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  return- 
ing, "  and  much  good  may  it  do  him,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  which 
harm  it  can't  and  good  it  may,  be  joyful !  " 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Jonas,  hoarsely,  "  and  let  us  get  this 
business  done.     Where  is  the  other  woman  ?" 

''  The  other  person's  with  him  now,"  she  answered. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Jonas.  "  He's  not  fit  to  be  left  to 
himself.  Why,  he  fastened  on  me,  to-night ;  here  upon  my 
coat  ;  like  a  savage  dog.  Old  as  he  is,  and  feeble  as  he  is 
usually,  I  had  some  trouble  to  shake  him  off.  You — Hush  ! 
— It's  nothing.  You  told  me  the  other  woman's  name.  1 
forget  it." 

"  I  mentioned  Betsey  Prig,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  She's  to  be  trusted,  is  she  ?  " 

"  That  she  ain't  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp;  **  nor  have  I  brought 
her,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  I've  brought  another,  which  engages 
to  give  every  satigfaction." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT  771 

**  What  is  her  name  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

Mrs.  Gamp  looked  at  him  in  an  odd  way  without  return- 
ing any  answer,  but  appeared  to  understand  the  question  too. 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  "  repeated  Jonas, 

**  Her  name,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  Harris." 

It  was  extraordinary  how  much  effort  it  cost  Mrs.  Gamp 
to  pronounce  the  name  she  was  commonly  so  ready  with. 
She  made  some  three  or  four  gasps  before  she  could  get  it 
out  ;  and,  when  she  had  uttered  it,  pressed  her  hand  upon 
her  side,  and  turned  up  her  eyes  as  if  she  were  going  to 
faint  away.  But,  knowing  her  to  labor  under  a  complica- 
tion of  internal  disorders,  which  rendered  a  few  drops  of 
spirits  indispensable  at  certain  times  to  her  existence,  and 
which  came  on  very  strong  when  that  remedy  was  not  at 
hand,  Jonas  merely  supposed  her  to  be  the  victim  of  one  of 
these  attacks. 

"  Well  !  "  he  said,  hastily,  for  he  felt  how  incapable  he 
was  of  confining  his  wandering  attention  to  the  subject. 
''  You  and  she  have  arranged  to  take  care  of  him,  have  you  ? " 

Mrs.  Gamp  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  softly  discharged 
herself  of  her  familiar  phrase,  "  turn  and  turn  about ; 
one  off,  one  on."  But  she  spoke  so  tremulously  that  she  felt 
called  upon  to  add,  "  which  fiddle-strings  is  weakness  to 
expredge  my  nerves  this  night  !  " 

Jonas  stopped  to  listen.     Then   said,  hurriedly  : 

*'  We  shall  not  quarrel  about  terms.  Let  them  be  the 
same  as  they  were  before.  Keep  him  close,  and  keep  him 
quiet.  He  must  be  restrained.  He  has  got  it  in  his  head 
to-night  that  my  wife's  dead,  and  has  been  attacking  me  as 
if  I  had  killed  her.  It's — it's  common  with  mad  people  to 
take  the  worst  fancies  of  those  they  like  best,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  assented,  with  a  short  groan. 

"  Keep  him  close,  then,  or  in  one  of  his  fits  he'll  be  doing 
me  a  mischief.  And  don't  trust  him  at  any  time  ;  for  when 
he  seems  most  rational,  he's  wildest  in  his  talk.  But  that 
you  know  already.     Let  me  see  the  other." 

**  The  t'other  person,  sir  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"Ay  !  Go  you  to  him  and  send  the  other.  Quick  !  I'm 
busy." 

Mrs.  Gamp  took  two  or  three  backward  steps  toward  the 
door,  and  stopped  there. 

'*  It  is  your  wishes,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  she  said,  in  a  sort  of 
quavering  croak,  "  to  see  the  t'other  person.     Is  it?" 

But  the  ghastly  change  in  Jonas  told  her  that  the  other 


772  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

person  was  already  seen.  Before  she  could  look  round 
toward  the  door,  she  was  put  aside  by  old  Martin's  hand  ; 
and  Chuffey  and  John  Westlock  entered  with  him. 

*'  Let  no  one  leave  the  house,"  said  Martin.  "  This  man 
is  my  brother's  son.  Ill-met,  ill-trained,  ill-forgotten.  If  he 
moves  from  the  spot  on  which  he  stands,  or  speaks  a  word 
above  his  breath  to  any  person  here,  open  the  window,  and 
call  for  help  !  " 

"  What  right  have  you  to  give  such  directions  in  this 
house  ?  "  asked  Jonas  faintly. 

"  The  right  of  your  wrong-doing.     Come  in  there  !  " 

An  irrepressible  exclamation  burst  from  the  lips  of  Jonas, 
as  Lewsome  entered  at  the  door.  It  was  not  a  groan,  or  a 
shriek,  or  a  word,  but  was  wholly  unlike  any  sound  that  had 
ever  fallen  on  the  ears  of  those  who  heard  it,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  was  the  most  sharp  and  terrible  expression  of 
what  was  working  in  his  guilty  breast,  that  nature  could  have 
invented. 

He  had  done  murder  for  this  !  He  had  girdled  himself 
about  with  perils,  agonies  of  mind,  innumerable  fears,  for 
this  !  He  had  hidden  his  secret  in  the  wood  ;  pressed  and 
stamped  it  down  into  the  bloody  ground  ;  and  here  it  started 
up  when  least  expected,  miles  upon  miles  away  ;  known  to 
many  ;  proclaiming  itself  from  the  lips  of  an  old  man  who 
had  renewed  his  strength  and  vigor  as  by  a  miracle,  to  give 
it  voice  against  him  ! 

He  leaned  his  hand  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  looked  at 
them.  It  was  in  vain  to  try  to  do  so,  scornfully  ;  or  with 
his  usual  insolence.  He  required  the  chair  for  his  support. 
But  he  made  a  struggle  for  it. 

"  I  know  that  fellow,"  he  said,  fetching  his  breath  at  every 
word,  and  pointing  his  trembling  finger  toward  Lewsome. 
"  He's  the  greatest  liar  alive.  What's  his  last  tale  ?  Ha,  ha! 
You're  rare  fellows  too  !  Why,  that  uncle  of  mine  is  child- 
ish ;  he's  even  a  greater  child  than  his  brother,  my  father, 
was,  in  his  old  age  ;  or  than  Chuffey  is.  What  the  devil  do 
you  mean,"  he  added,  looking  fiercely  at  John  Westlock  and 
Mark  Tapley  (the  latter  had  entered  with  Lewsome),  "by 
coming  here,  and  bringing  two  idots  and  a  knave  with  you  to 
take  my  house  by  storm  ?  Hallo,  there  !  Open  the  door! 
Turn  these  strangers  out !  " 

*'  I  tell  you  what,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  coming  forward,  *'  if 
it  wasn't  for  your  name,  I'd  drag  you  through  the  streets  of 
my  own  accord,  and  single-handed,  I  would  !     Ah,  I  would! 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  773 

Don't  try  and  look  bold  at  me.  You  can't  do  it  !  Now  go 
on,  sir,"  this  was  to  old  Martin.  "  Bring  the  murderin' 
wagabond  upon  his  knees  !  If  he  wants  noise,  he  shall  have 
enough  of  it  ;  for  as  sure  as  he's  a  shivering  from  head  to 
foot,  I'll  raise  a  uproar  at  this  winder  that  shall  bring  half 
London  in.  Go  on,  sir  !  Let  him  try  me  once,  and  see 
whether  I'm  a  man  of  my  word  or  not." 

With  that,  Mark  folded  his  arms,  and  took  his  seat  upon 
the  window-ledge,  with  an  air  of  general  preparation  for  any 
thing,  which  seemed  to  imply  that  he  was  equally  ready  to 
jump  out  himself,  or  to  throw  Jonas  out,  upon  receiving  the 
slightest  hint  that  it  would  be  agreeable  to  the  company. 

Old  Martin  turned  to  Lewsome  : 

"  This  is  the  man,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  toward 
Jonas.     "Is  it?" 

"  You  need  do  no  more  than  look  at  him  to  be  sure  of 
that,  or  of  the  truth  of  what  I  have  said,"  was  the  reply. 
'*  He  is  my  witness." 

"  Oh,  brother  !  "  cried  old  Martin,  clasping  his  hands  and 
lifting  up  his  eyes.  *'  Oh,  brother,  brother  !  Were  we 
strangers  half  our  lives  that  you  might  breed  a  wretch  like 
this,  and  I  make  life  a  desert  by  withering  every  flower  that 
grew  about  me  !  Is  it  the  natural  end  of  your  precepts  and 
mine,  that  this  should  be  the  creature  of  your  rearing,  train- 
ing, teaching,  hoarding,  striving  for  :  and  I  the  means  of 
bringing  him  to  punishment,  when  nothing  can  repair  the 
wasted  past !  " 

He  sat  down  upon  a  chair  as  he  spoke,  and  turning  away 
his  face,  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  with  recov- 
ered energy  he  proceeded  : 

"  But  the  accursed  harvest  of  our  mistaken  lives  shall  be, 
trodden  down.  It  is  not  too  late  for  that.  You  are  con- 
fronted with  this  man,  you  monster  there  ;  not  to  be  spared, 
but  to  be  dealt  with  justly.  Hear  what  he  says  !  Reply, 
be  silent,  contradict,  repeat,  defy,  do  what  you  please.  My 
course  will  be  the  same.  Go  on  !  And  you,"  he  said  to 
Chuffey,  "for  the  love  of  your  friend,  speak  out,  good  fel- 
low !  " 

"  I  have  been  silent  for  his  love  !  "  cried  the  old  man. 
"  He  urged  me  to  it.  He  made  me  promise  it  upon  his  dying 
bed.  I  never  would  have  spoken,  but  for  you  finding  out  so 
much.  I  have  thought  about  it  ever  since  ;  I  couldn't  help 
that:  and  sometimes  I  have  had  it  all  before  me  in  a  dream: 
b'lt  in   the  day-time,  not  in  sleep.     Is  there  such  a  kind  of 


774  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

dream  ?  "  said    Chuff ey,  looking  anxiously  in  old    Martin's 
face. 

As  Martin  made  him  an  encouraging  reply,  he  listened  at- 
tentively to  his  voice  ;  and  smiled. 

^*  Ah,  ay  !  "  he  cried.  **  He  often  spoke  to  me  like  that. 
We  were  at  school  together,  he  and  I.  I  couldn't  turn  against 
his  son,  you  know — his  only  son,  Mr.   Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"  I  would  to  heaven  you  had  been,  his  son  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  You  speak  so  like  my  dear  old  master,"  cried  the  old 
man  with  a  childish  delight,  "  that  I  almost  think  I  hear 
him,  I  can  hear  you  quite  as  well  as  I  used  to  hear  him.  It 
makes  me  young  again.  He  never  spoke  unkind  to  me, 
and  I  always  understood  him.  I  could  always  see  him  too, 
though  my  sight  was  dim.  Well,  well  !  He's  dead,  he's 
dead.     He  was  very  good  to  me,  my  dear  old  master  !  " 

He  shook  his  head  mournfully  over  the  brother's  hand. 
At  this  moment  Mark,  v/ho  had  been  glancing  out  of  the 
window,  left  the  room. 

I  couldn't  turn  against  his  only  son,  you  know,"  said 
Chuffey.  "  He  has  nearly  driven  me  to  do  it  sometimes  ;  he 
very  nearly  did  it  to-night.  Ah  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  with 
a  sudden  recollection  of  the  cause.  "  Where  is  she  !  She's 
not  come  home  !  " 

^*  Do  you  mean  his  wife  ?  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

*'Yes." 

"  I  have  removed  her.  She  is  in  my  care,  and  will  be  spared 
the  present  knowledge  of  what  is  passing  here.  She  has 
known  misery  enough,  without  that  addition." 

Jonas  heard  this  with  a  sinking  heart.  He  knew  that  they 
were  on  his  heels,  and  felt  that  they  were  resolute  to  run 
him  to  destruction.  Inch  by  inch  the  ground  beneath  him 
was  sliding  from  his  feet;  faster  and  faster  the  encircling 
ruin  contracted  and  contracted  toward  himself,  its  wicked 
center,  until  it  should  close  in  and  crush  him. 

And  now  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  accomplice  stating  to 
his  face,  with  every  circumstance  of  time  and  place  and  in- 
cident; and  openly  proclaiming,*with  no  reserve,  suppression, 
passion,  or  concealment;  all  the  truth.  The  truth,  which 
nothing  would  keep  down;  which  blood  would  not  smother 
and  earth  would  not  hide;  the  truth,  whose  terrible  ins})ira- 
tion  seemed  to  change  dotards  into  strong  men  ;  and  on 
whose  avenging  wings,  one  whom  he  had  supposed  to  be  at 
the  extremest  corner  of  the  earth  came  swooping  down  upon 
him. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  775 

He  tried  to  deny  it,  but  his  tongue  would  not  move.  He 
conceived  some  desperate  thought  of  rushing  away,  and  tear- 
ing through  the  streets  ;  but  his  liml)s  would  as  little  answer 
to  his  will  as  his  stark,  stiff,  staring  face.  All  this  time  the 
voice  went  slowly  on,  denouncing  him.  It  was  as  if  every 
drop  of  blood  in  the  wood  had  found  a  voice  to  jeer  him 
with. 

When  it  ceased,  another  voice  took  up  the  tale,  but 
strangely  ;  for  the  old  clerk,  who  had  watched,  and  listened 
to  the  whole,  and  had  wrung  his  hands  from  time  to  time,  as 
if  he  knew  its  truth  and  could  confirm  it,  broke  in  with  these 
words: 

"  No,  no,  no  !  you  are  wrong  ;  you're  wrong — all  wrong 
together !  Have  patience,  for  the  truth  is  only  known 
to  me  !  " 

"  How  can  that  be,"  said  his  old  master's  brother,  "after 
what  you  have  heard  ?  Besides,  you  said  just  now,  above 
stairs,  when  I  told  you  of  the  accusation  against  him,  that  you 
knew  he  was  his  father's  murderer." 

"  Ay,  yes  !  and  so  he  was  !  "  cried  Chuff ey  wildly.  "  But 
not  as  you  suppose — not  as  you  suppose.  Stay  !  Give  me  a 
moment's  time.  I  have  it  all  here — all  here  !  It  was  foul, 
foul,  cruel,  bad;  but  not  as  you  suppose.     Stay,  stay  !  " 

He  put  his  hands  up  to  his  head,  as  if  it  throbbed  or  pained 
him.  After  looking  about  him  in  a  wandering  and  vacant 
manner  for  some  moments,  his  eyes  rested  upon  Jonas,  when 
they  kindled  up  with  sudden  recollection  and  intelligence. 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  old  Chuffey,  "  yes  !  That's  how  it  was.  It's 
all  upon  me  now.  He — he  got  up  from  his  bed  before  he 
died,  to  be  sure,  to  say  that  he  forgave  him,  and  he  came 
down  with  me  into  this  room;  and  when  he  saw  him — his 
only  son,  the  son  he  loved — his  speech  forsook  him:  he  had 
no  speech  for  w^hat  he  knew — and  no  one  understood  him 
except  me.     But  I  did — I  did  !  " 

Old  Martin  regarded  him  in  amazement;  so  did  his  com- 
panions. Mrs.  Gamp,  who  had  said  nothing  yet;  but  had 
kept  tvv'o-thirds  of  herself  behind  the  door,  ready  for  escape, 
and  one-third  in  the  room,  ready  for  siding  with  the  strongest 
party;  came  a  little  further  in  and  remarked,  with  a  sob,  that 
Mr.  Chuffey  was  "  the  sweetest  old  creetur  goin'." 

"  He  bought  the  stuff,"  said  Chuffey,  stretching  out  his 
arm  toward  Jonas,  while  an  unwonted  fire  shone  in  his  eye, 
and  lightened  up  his  face  ;  "  he  bought  the  stuff,  no  doubt, 
as  you  have   heard,   and    brought    it  home.     He  mixed  the 


776  MARTIN  CHUZ2LEWIT. 

stuff — look  at  him  ! — with  some  sweetmeat  in  a  jar,  exactly 
as  the  medicine  for  his  father's  cough  was  mixed,  and  put 
it  in  a  drawer  ;  in  that  drawer  yonder  in  the  desk  ;  he 
knows  which  drawer  I  mean  !  He  kept  it  there  locked  up. 
But  his  courage  failed  him,  or  his  heart  was  touched — my 
God  !  I  hope  it  was  his  heart  !  He  was  his  only  son  ! — and 
he  did  not  put  it  in  the  usual  place,  where  my  old  master 
would  have  taken  it  twenty  times  a-day." 

The  trembling  figure  of  the  old  man  shook  with  the  strong 
emotions  that  possessed  him.  But,  with  the  same  light  in 
his  eye,  and  with  his  arm  outstretched,  and  with  his  gray  hair 
stirring  on  his  head,  he  seemed  to  grow  in  size,  and  was 
like  a  man  inspired.  Jonas  shrunk  from  looking  at  him, 
and  cowered  down  into  the  chair  by  which  he  had  held.  It 
seemed  as  if  this  tremendous  truth  could  make  the  dumb 
speak. 

''  I  know  it  every  word  now  !  "  cried  Chuffey.  **  Every 
word  !  He  put  it  in  that  drawer,  as  I  have  said.  He  went 
so  often  there,  and  was  so  secret,  that  his  father  took  notice 
of  it  ;  and  when  he  was  out  had  it  opened.  We  were  there 
together,  and  we  found  the  mixture — Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and 
I.  He  took  it  into  his  possession,  and  made  light  of  it  at 
the  time  ;  but  in  the  night  he  came  to  my  bed-side,  weep- 
ing, and  told  me  that  his  own  son  had  it  in  his  mind  to  poi- 
son him.  '  Oh,  Chuff,'  he  said,  '  oh  dear  old  Chuff  !  a  voice 
came  into  my  room  to-night,  and  told  me  that  this  crime 
began  with  me.  It  began  when  I  taught  him  to  be  too  cove- 
tous of  what  I  have  to  leave,  and  made  the  expectation 
of  it  his  great  business  !  '  Those,  were  his  words  ;  ay,  they 
are  his  very  words  !  If  he  was  a  hard  man  now  and  then, 
it  was  for  his  only  son.  He  loved  his  only  son,  and  he  was 
always  good  to  me  !  " 

Jonas  listened  with  increased  attention.  Hope  was  break- 
ing in  upon  him. 

"  '  He  shall  not  weary  for  my  death.  Chuff  :  '  that  was 
what  he  said  next,"  pursued  the  old  clerk,  as  he  wiped  his 
eyes  ;  **  that  was  what  he  said  next,  crying  like  a  little 
child  :  *  He  shall  not  weary  for  my  death.  Chuff.  He 
shall  have  have  it  now  ;  he  shall  marry  where  he  has  a 
fancy.  Chuff,  although  it  don't  please  me  ;  and  you  and  I  will 
go  away  and  live  upon  a  little.  I  always  loved  him  ;  per- 
haps he'll  love  me  then.  It's  a  dreadful  thing  to  have  my 
own  child  thirsting  for  my  death.  But  I  might  have  known 
it.     I  have  sown,  and   I  must  reap.      He   shall  believe  that 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  777 

I  am  taking  this  ;  and  when  I  see  that  he  is  sorry,  and  has 
all  he  wants,  I'll  tell  him  that  I  found  it  out,  and  I'll  for- 
give him.  He'll  make  a  better  man  of  his  own  son,  and  be 
a  better  man  himself,  perhaps,  Chuff  !  " 

Poor  Chuffey  paused  to  dry  his  eye  again.  Old  Martin's 
face  was  hidden  in  his  hands.  Jonas  listened  still  more 
keenly,  and  his  breast  heaved  like  a  swollen  water,  but  with 
hope.     With  growing  hope. 

"  My  dear  old  master  made  believe  next  day,"  said  Chuf- 
fey, "  that  he  had  opened  the  drawer  by  mistake  with  a  key 
from  the  bunch,  which  happened  to  fit  it  (we  had  one 
made  and  hung  upon  it)  ;  and  that  he  had  been  surprised 
to  find  his  fresh  supply  of  cough  medicine  in  such  a  place, 
but  supposed  it  had  been  put  there  in  a  hurry  when  the 
drawer  stood  open.  We  burned  it  ;  but  his  son  believed  that 
he  was  taking  it — he  knows  he  did.  Once  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 
to  try  him,  took  heart  to  say  it  had  a  strange  taste  ;  and  he 
got  up  directly,  and  went  out." 

Jonas  gave  a  short,  dry  cough  ;  and,  changing  his  posi- 
tion for  an  easier  one,  folded  his  arms  without  looking  at 
them,  though  they  could  now  see  his  face. 

**  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  wrote  to  her  father  ;  I  mean  the  father 
of  the  poor  thing  who's  his  wife  ;  "  said  Chuffey  ;  "  and 
got  him  to  come  up  :  intending  to  hasten  on  the  marriage. 
But  his  mind,  like  mine,  went  a  little  wrong  through  grief, 
and  then  his  heart  broke.  He  sank  and  altered  from  the 
time  when  he  came  to  me  in  the  night ;  and  never  held 
up  his  head  again.  It  was  only  a  few  days,  but  he  had 
never  changed  so  much  in  twice  the  years,  *  Spare  him, 
Chuff  !  *  he  said,  before  he  died.  They  were  the  only  words 
he  could  speak.  'Spare  him,  Chuff!'  I  promised  him  I 
would.     I've  tried  to  do  it.     He's  his  only  son." 

In  his  recollection  of  the  last  scene  in  his  old  friend's  life, 
poor  Chuffey's  voice,  which  had  grown  weaker  and  weaker, 
quite  deserted  him.  Making  a  motion  with  his  hand,  as  if 
he  would  have  said  that  Anthony  had  taken  it,  and  had  died 
with  it  in  his,  he  retreated  to  the  corner  where  he  usually 
concealed  his  sorrows  ;  and  was  silent. 

Jonas  could  look  at  his  company  now,  and  vauntingly  too. 
*'  Well  !  "  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  Are  you  satisfied  ?  Or 
have  you  any  more  of  your  plots  to  broach  ?  Why  that  fellow, 
Lewsome,  can  invent  'em  for  you  by  the  score.  Is  this  all  ^ 
Have  you  nothing  else  !  " 

Old  Martin  looked  at  him  steadily. 


778  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Whether  you  are  what  you  seemed  to  be  at  Pecksniff's, 
or  are  something  else  and  a  mountebank,  I  don't  know  and  I 
don't  care,"  said  Jonas,  looking  downward  wath  a  smile, 
"  but  I  don't  want  you  here.  You  were  here  so  often  when 
your  brother  was  alive,  and  were  always  so  fond  of  him  (your 
dear,  dear  brother,  and  you  would  have  been  cuffing  one 
another  before  this,  ecod  !),  that  I  am  not  surprised  at  your 
being  attached  to  the  place;  but  the  place  is  not  attached  to 
you,  and  you  can't  leave  it  too  soon,  though  you  may  leave  it 
too  late.  And  for  my  wife,  old  man,  send  her  home  straight, 
or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  her.  Ha,  ha  !  You  carry  it  with  a 
high  hand  too  !  But  it  isn't  hanging  yet  for  a  man  to  keep 
a  penn'orth  of  poison  for  his  own  purposes,  and  have  it  taken 
from  him  by  two  old  crazy  jolter-heads  who  go  and  act  a 
play  about  it.     Ha,  ha  !  Do  you  see  the  door  ? " 

His  base  triumph,  struggling  with  his  cowardice,  and 
shame,  and  guilt,  was  so  detestable,  that  they  turned  away 
from  him,  as  if  he  were  some  obscene  and  filthy  animal, 
repugnant  to  the  sight.  And  here  that  last  black  crime  was 
busy  with  him  too;  working  within  him  to  his  perdition. 
But  for  that,  the  old  clerk's  story  might  have  touched  him, 
though  never  so  lightly;  but  for  that,  the  sudden  removal  of 
so  great  a  load  might  have  brought  about  some  wholesome 
change  even  in  him.  With  that  deed  done,  however;  with 
that  unnecessary  wasteful  danger  haunting  him;  despair  was 
in  his  very  triumph  and  relief;  wild,  ungovernable,  raging 
despair,  for  the  uselessness  of  the  peril  into  which  he  had 
plunged;  despair  that  hardened  him  and  maddened  him,  and 
set  his  teeth  a  grinding  in  a  moment  of  his  exultation. 

''  My  good  friend  !  "  said  old  Martin,  laying  his  hand  on 
Chuffey's  sleeve.  "  This  is  no  place  for  you  to  remain  in. 
Come  with  me." 

"  Just  his  old  way  !  "  cried  Chuffey,  looking  up  into  his 
face.  "  I  almost  believe  it's  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  alive  again. 
Yes  !     Take  me  with  you  ?     Stay,  though,  stay." 

"  For  what  ?  "  asked  old  Martin. 

"  I  can't  leave  her,  poor  thing  !  "  said  Chuffey.  '*  She 
has  been  very  good  to  me.  I  can't  leave  her,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit. Thank  you  kindly.  I'll  remain  here.  I  haven't  long 
to  remain;  it's  no  great  matter." 

As  he  meekly  shook  his  poor,  gray  head,  and  thanked  old 
Martin  in  these  words,  Mrs.  Gamp,  now  entirely  in  the  room, 
was  affected  to  tears. 

*'  The  mercy  as  it  is  !  "  she  said,  "  as  sech  a   dear,  good, 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  779 

reverend  creetur,  never  got  into  the  clutches  of  Betsey  Prig, 
which  but  for  me  he  would  have  done,  undoubted  facts  bein' 
stubborn  and  not  easy  drove  !  " 

"  You  heard  me  speak  to  you  just  now,  old  man,"  said 
Jonas  to  his  uncle.  **  I'll  have  no  more  tampering  with  my 
people,  man  or  woman.     Do  you  see  the  door  ? " 

*'  Do  you  see  the  door  ? "  returned  the  voice  of  Mark,  com- 
ing from  that  direction.     '^  Look  at  it  ! " 

He  looked,  and  his  gaze  was  nailed  there.  Fatal,  ill- 
omened,  blighted  threshold,  cursed  by  his  father's  footsteps 
in  his  dying  hour,  cursed  by  his  young  wife's  sorrowing 
tread,  cursed  by  the  daily  shadow  of  the  old  clerk's  figure, 
cursed  by  the  crossing  of  his  murderer's  feet — what  men  were 
standing  in  the  doorway  ! 

Nadgett  foremost. 

Hark  !  It  came  on,  roaring  like  a  sea  !  Hawkers  burst 
into  the  street,  crying  it  up  and  down;  windows  were  thrown 
open  that  the  inhabitants  might  hear  it;  people  stopped  to 
listen  in  the  road  and  on  the  pavement;  the  bells,  the  same 
bells,  began  to  ring;  tumbling  over  one  another  in  a  dance 
of  boisterous  joy  at  the  discovery  (that  was  the  sound  they 
had  in  his  distempered  thoughts),  and  making  their  airy 
play-ground  rock. 

"  That  is  the  man,"  said  Nadgett.     "  By  the  window  !  " 

Three  others  came  in,  laid  hands  upon  him,  and  secured 
him.  It  was  so  quickly  done,  that  he  had  not  lost  sight  of 
the  informer's  face  for  an  instant  when  his  wrists  were 
manacled  together. 

''  Murder,"  said  Nadgett,  looking  round  on  the  astonished 
group.     "  Let  no  one  interfere." 

The  sounding  street  repeated  murder;  barbarous  and 
dreadful  murder;  murder,  murder,  murder.  Rolling  on  from 
house  to  house,  and  echoing  from  stone  to  stone,  until  the 
voices  died  away  into  the  distant  hum,  which  seemed  to  mut- 
ter the  same  word  ! 

They  all  stood  silent:  listening,  and  gazing  in  each  other's 
faces,  as  the  noise  passed  on. 

Old  Martin  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  What  terrible  history 
is  this  ? "  he  demanded. 

''  Ask  /lim,"  said  Nadgett.  "  You're  his  friend,  sir.  He 
can  tell  you,  if  he  will.  He  knows  more  of  it  than  I  do, 
though  I  know  much." 

"  How  do  you  know  much  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  been  watching  him   so  long    for   nothing," 


78o  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

returned  Nadgett.  "  I  never  watched  a  man  so  clore  as  I 
have  watched  him." 

Another  of  the  phantom  forms  of  this  terrific  truth  !  An- 
other of  the  many  shapes  in  which  it  started  up  about  him, 
out  of  vacancy.  This  man  of  all  men  in  the  world,  a  spy 
upon  him  ;  this  man,  changing  his  identity  :  casting  off  his 
shrinking,  purblind,  unobserved  character,  and  springing  up 
into  a  watchful  enemy  !  The  dead  man  might  have  come 
out  of  his  grave,  and  not  confounded  and  appalled  him 
more. 

The  game  was  up.  The  race  was  at  an  end  ;  the  rope 
was  woven  for  his  neck.  If,  by  a  miracle,  he  could  escape 
from  this  strait,  he  had  but  to  turn  his  face  another  way,  no 
matter  where,  and  there  would  rise  some  new  avenger  front 
to  front  with  him;  some  infant  in  an  hour  grown  old,  or  old 
man  in  an  hour  grown  young,  or  blind  man  with  his  sight 
restored,  or  deaf  man  with  his  hearing  given  him.  There  was 
no  chance.  He  sank  down  in  a  heap  against  the  wall,  and 
never  hoped  again  from  that  moment. 

**  I  am  not  his  friend,  although  I  have  the  dishonor  to  be 
his  relative,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "You  may  speak  to  me. 
Where  have  you  watched,  and  what  have  you  seen  ? " 

*'  I  have  watched  in  many  places,"  returned  Nadgett, 
*'  night  and  day.  I  have  watched  him  lately,  almost  without 
rest  or  relief  ;  his  anxious  face  and  blood-shot  eyes  con- 
firmed it.  I  little  thought  to  what  my  watching  was  to 
lead.  As  little  as  he  did  when  he  slipped  out  in  the  night, 
dressed  in  those  clothes  which  he  afterward  sunk  in  a  bun- 
dle at  London  Bridge  !  " 

Jonas  moved  upon  the  ground  like  a  man  in  bodily  tor- 
ture. He  uttered  a  suppressed  groan,  as  if  he  had  been 
wounded  by  some  cruel  weapon  ;  and  plucked  at  the  iron 
band  upon  his  wrist,  as  though  (his  hands  being  free)  he 
would  have  torn  himself. 

"  Steady,  kinsman  !  "  said  the  chief  officer  of  the  party. 
"  Don't  be  violent." 

"  Whom  do  you  call  kinsman  ?  "  asked  old  Martin,  sternly. 

"You,"  said  the  man,  "among  others." 

Martin  turned  his  scrutinizing  gaze  upon  him.  He  was 
sitting  lazily  across  a  chair  with  his  arms  resting  on  the 
back  ;  eating  nuts  and  throwing  the  shells  out  of  window  as 
he  cracked  them;  which  he  still  continued  to  do  while  speak- 
ing. 

"  Ay,"  he  said,  with  a  sulky  nod.     "  You  may  deny  your 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  78r 

nephews  till  you  die,  but  Chevy  Slyme  is  Chevy  Slyme  still? 
all  the  world  over.  Perhaps  even  you  may  feel  it  some  dis- 
grace to  your  own  blood  to  be  employed  in  tliis  way.  I'm 
to  be  bought  off." 

"  At  every  turn  !"  cried  Martin.  "  Self,  self,  self.  Every 
one  among  them  for  himself  !  " 

"  You  had  better  save  one  or  two  among  them  the  trouble 
then,  and  be  for  them  as  well  as  yourscU,"  replied  his 
nephew.  "  Look  here  r,t  me  !  Can  you  see  the  man  of  your 
family  v>'ho  has  more  talent  in  his  little  finger  than  all  the 
rest  in  their  united  brains,  dressed  as  a  police  officer  without 
being  ashamed  ?  I  took  up  with  this  trade  on  purpose  to 
shame  you.  I  didn't  think  I  should  have  to  make  a  cap- 
ture in  the  family,  though." 

"  If  your  debauchery,  and  that  of  your  chosen  friends, 
has  really  brought  you  to  this  level,"  returned  the  old  man, 
"  keep  it.  You  are  living  honestly,  I  hope,  and  that's  some- 
thing." 

*'  Don't  be  hard  upon  my  chosen  friends,"  returned 
Slyme,  "  for  they  were  sometimes  your  chosen  friends,  too. 
Don't  say  you  never  employed  my  friend  Tigg,  for  I  know 
better.     We  quarreled  upon  it." 

''I  hired  the  fellow,"  retorted  Mr.  Chuzzlewit;  ''and  I 
paid  him." 

*'  It's  well  you  paid  him,"  said  his  nephew,  ''  for  it  would 
be  too  late  to  do  so  now.  He  has  given  his  receipt  in  full — 
or  had  it  forced  from  him  rather." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  curious  to  know 
what  he  meant,  but  scorned  to  prolong  the  conversation. 

*'  I  have  always  expected  that  he  and  I  would  be 
brought  together  again  in  the  course  of  business,"  said 
Slyme,  taking  a  fresh  handful  of  nuts  from  his  pocket  ;  "  but 
I  thought  he  would  be  wanted  for  some  swindling  job  ;  it 
never  entered  my  head  that  I  should  hold  a  warrant  for  the 
apprehension  of  his  murderer." 

**  Hi's  murderer  !  "  cried  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  looking  from 
one  to  another. 

"  His  or  Mr.  Montague,"  said  Nadgett.  "  They  are  the 
same,  I  am  told.  I  accuse  him  yonder  of  the  murder  of  Mr. 
Montague,  who  was  found  last  night,  killed  in  a  wood.  You 
will  ask  me  why  I  accuse  him,  as  you  have  already  asked  me 
>iow  I  know  so  much.     I'll  tell  you.     It  can't  remain  a  secret 

^^"g-"        .  .  .  , 

The  ruling  passion  of  the  man  expressed  itself  even  then, 


752  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

in  the  tone  of  regret  in  which  he  deplored  the  approaching 
pubHcity  of  what  he  knew. 

'*  I  told  you  I  had  watched  him,"  he  proceeded.  "  I  was 
instructed  to  do  so  by  Mr.  Montague,  in  whose  employment  I 
have  been  for  some  time.  We  had  our  suspicions  of  him  ; 
and  you  know  what  they  pointed  at,  for  you  have  been  discuss- 
ing it  since  we  have  been  waiting  here,  outside  the  room.  If 
you  care  to  hear  now  it's  all  over,  in  what  our  suspicions 
began,  I'll  tell  you  plainly  :  in  a  quarrel  (it  first  came  to  our 
ears  through  a  hint  of  his  own)  between  him  and  another 
office  in  which  his  father's  life  was  insured,  and  which  had  so 
much  doubt  and  distrust  upon  the  subject,  that  he  compounded 
with  them,  and  took  half  the  money  ;  and  was  glad  to  do  it. 
Bit  by  bit,  I  ferreted  out  more  circumstances  against  him, 
and  not  a  few.  It  required  a  little  patience,  but  it's  my  call- 
ing. I  found  the  nurse — here  she  is  to  confirm  me  ;  I  found 
the  doctor,  I  found  the  undertaker,  I  found  the  undertaker's 
man.  I  found  out  how  the  old  gentleman  there,  Mr.  Chuff ey, 
had  behaved  at  the  funeral  ;  and  I  found  out  what  this  man," 
touching  Lewsome  on  the  arm,  "  had  talked  about  in  his  fever. 
I  found  out  how  he  conducted  himself  before  his  father's 
death,  and  how  since,  and  how  at  the  time  ;  and  writing  it  all 
down,  and  putting  it  carefully  together,  made  case  enough 
for  Mr.  Montague  to  tax  him  with  the  crime,  which  (as  he 
himself  believed  until  to-night)  he  had  committed.  I  was 
by  when  this  was  done.  You  see  him  now.  He  is  only 
worse  than  he  was  then." 

Oh,  miserable,  miserable  fool  !  oh,  insupportable,  excrucia- 
ting torture  !  To  find  alive  and  active — a  party  to  it  all — the 
brain  and  right-hand  of  the  secret  he  had  thought  to  crush  ! 
In  whom,  though  he  had  walled  the  murdered  man  up,  by 
enchantment  in  a  rock,  the  story  would  have  lived  and  walked 
abroad  !  He  tried  to  stop  his  ears  with  his  fettered  arms, 
that  he  might  shut  out  the  rest. 

As  he  crouched  upon  the  floor,  they  drew  away  from  him 
as  if  a  pestilence  were  in  his  breath.  They  fell  off,  one  by 
one,  from  that  part  of  the  room,  leaving  him  alone  upon  the 
ground.  Even  those  who  had  him  in  their  keeping  shunned 
him,  and  (with  the  exception  of  Slyme,  who  was  still  occupied 
with  his  nuts)  kept  apart. 

*'  From  that  garret-window  opposite,"  said  Nadgett,  point- 
ing across  the  narrow  street,  "  I  have  watched  this  house  and 
him  for  days  and  nights.  From  that  garret-window  opposite  I 
saw  him  return  home,  alone,  from  a  journey  on  which  he  had 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  783 

set  out  with  Mr.  Montague.  That  was  my  token  that  Mr. 
Montague's  end  was  gained  ;  and  I  might  rest  easy  on  my 
watch,  though  I  was  not  to  leave  it  until  he  dismissed  me. 
But,  standing  at  the  door  opposite,  after  dark  that  same  night, 
I  saw  a  countryman  steal  out  of  this  house,  by  a  side-door  in 
the  court,  who  had  never  entered  it.  I  knew  his  walk,  and 
that  it  was  himself,  disguised.  I  followed  him  immedi- 
ately. I  lost  him  on  the  western  road,  still  traveling  west- 
ward." 

Jonas  looked  up  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  muttered  an 
oath. 

"  I  could  not  comprehend  what  this  meant,"  said  Nadgett  ; 
"  but,  having  seen  so  much,  I  resolved  to  see  it  out,  and 
through.  And  I  did.  Learning,  on  inquiry  at  his  house 
from  his  wife,  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  sleeping  in  the  room 
from  which  I  had  seen  him  go  out,  and  that  he  had  given 
strict  orders  not  to  be  disturbed,  I  knew  that  he  was  coming 
back  ;  and  for  his  coming  back  I  watched.  I  kept  my  watch 
in  the  street — in  doorways,  and  such  places — all  that  night  ; 
at  the  same  window,  all  next  day  ;  and  when  night  came  on 
again,  in  the  street  once  more.  For  I  knew  he  would  come 
back,  as  he  had  gone  out,  when  this  part  of  the  town  was 
empty.  He  did.  Early  in  the  morning,  the  same  country- 
man came  creeping,  creeping,  creeping  home," 

**  Look  sharp  !  "  interposed  Slyme,  who  had  now  finished 
his  nuts.     "  This  is  quite  irregular,  Mr.  Nadgett." 

"  I  kept  at  the  window  all  day,"  said  Nadgett,  without 
heeding  him.  ''  I  think  I  never  closed  my  eyes.  At  night,  I 
saw  him  come  out  with  a  bundle.  I  followed  him  again.  He 
went  down  the  steps  at  London  Bridge,  and  sunk  it  in  the 
river.  I  now  began  to  entertain  some  serious  fears,  and 
made  a  communication  to  the  police,  which  caused  that 
bundle  to  be —  " 

''  To  be  fished  up,"  interrupted  Slyme.  "  Be  alive,  Mr. 
Nadgett." 

"  It  contained  the  dress  I  had  seen  him  wear,"  said 
Nadgett  ;  "  stained  with  clay,  and  spotted  with  blood. 
Information  of  the  murder  was  received  in  town  last  night. 
The  wearer  of  that  dress  is  already  known  to  have  been  seen 
near  the  place  ;  to  have  been  lurking  in  that  neighborhood  ; 
and  to  have  alighted  from  a  coach  coming  from  that  part  of 
the  country,  at  a  time  exactly  tallying  with  the  very  minute 
when  I  saw  him  returning  home.  The  warrant  has  been 
out,  and  these  officers  have  been  with  me  some  hours.     We 


754  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

chose  our  time  ;  and  seeing  you  come  in  and  seeing  this  per- 
son at  the  window — " 

"  Beckoned  to  him,"  said  Mark,  taking  up  the  thread  of 
the  narrative,  on  hearing  this  allusion  to  himself,  "to  open 
the  door  ;  which  he  did  with  a  deal   of  pleasure." 

"That's  all  at  present,"  said  Nadgett,  putting  up  his 
great  pocket-book,  which  from  mere  habit  he  had  produced 
when  he  began  his  revelation,  and  had  kept  in  his  hand  all 
the  time  ;  "  but  there  is  plenty  more  to  come.  You  asked 
me  for  the  facts,  so  far  I  have  related  them.,  and  need  not 
detain  these  gentlemen  any  longer.  Are  you  ready,  Mr. 
Slyme?" 

"  And  som.ething  more,"  replied  that  worthy  rising.  '*  If 
you  will  walk  round  to  the  office,  we  shall  be  there  as  soon  as 
you.     Tom  !     Get  a  coach  !  " 

The  officer  to  whom  he  spoke  departed  for  that  purpose. 
Old  Martin  lingered  for  a  few  m.oments,  as  if  he  would  have 
addressed  some  words  to  Jonas  ;  but  looking  round,  and 
seeing  him  still  seated  on  the  floor,  rocking  himself  in  a 
savage  manner  to  and  fro,  took  Chuffey's  arm,  and  slowly 
followed  Nadgett  out.  John  Westlock  and  Mark  Tapley 
accompanied  them.  Mrs.  Gamp  had  tottered  out  first,  for 
the  better  display  of  her  feelings,  in  a  kind  of  walking 
swoon  ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp  performed  swoons  of  different  sorts, 
upon  a  moderate  notice,  as  Mr.  Mould  did  funerals. 

"  Ha  !  "  muttered  Slyme,  looking  after  them.  "  Upon  my 
soul  !  As  insensible  of  being  disgraced  by  having  such  a 
nephew  as  myself,  in  such  a  situation,  as  he  was  of  my  being 
an  honor  and  a  credit  to  the  family  !  That's  the  return  I  get 
for  having  humbled  my  spirit — such  a  spirit  as  mine — to 
earn  a  livelihood,  is  it  ?  " 

l^e  got  up  from  his  chair  and  kicked  it  away  indignantly. 

"  And  such  a  livelihood  too  !  When  there  are  hundreds 
of  men,  not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to  me,  rolling  in  carriages  and 
living  on  their  fortunes.     Upon  my  soul  it's  a  nice  world  !  " 

His  eyes  encountered  Jonas,  who  looked  earnestly  toward 
him,  and  moved  his  lips  as  if  he  were  whispering. 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  Slyme. 

Jonas  glanced  at  the  attendant  whose  back  was  toward 
him,  and  made  a  clumsy  motion  with  his  bound  hands 
toward  the  door. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Slyme,  thoughtfully.  "  I  couldn't  hope 
to  disgrace  him  into  any  thing  when  you  have  shot  so  far 
ahead  of  me  though.     I  forgot  that." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  785 

Jonas  repeated  the  same  look  and  gesture. 

"  Jack  !  "  said  Slyme. 

"  Hallo  !  "  returned  his  man. 

"  Go  down  to  the  door,  ready  for  the  coach.  Call  out 
when  it  comes.  I'd  rather  have  you  there.  Now  then,"  he 
added,  turning  hastily  to  Jonas,  when  the  man  was  gone. 
"What's  the  matter?" 

Jonas  essayed  to  rise. 

"Stop  a  bit,"  said  Slyme.  ''It's  not  so  easy  when  your 
wrists  are  tight   together.     Now  then  !     Up  !     What  is  it?" 

"  Put  your  hand  in  my  pocket.  Here  !  The  breast 
pocket,  on  the  left !  "  said  Jonas. 

He  did  so  ;  and  drew  out  a  purse. 

"  There's  a  hundred  pound  in  it,"  said  Jonas,  whose  words 
were  almost  unintelligible  ;  as  his  face,  in  its  pallor  and 
agony,  was  scarcely  human. 

Slyme  looked  at  him  ;  gave  it  into  his  hands  ;  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  I  can't.  I  daren't.  I  couldn't  if  I  dared.  Those  fel' 
lows  below  !" 

"  Escape's  impossible,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  know  it.  One 
hundred  pound  for  only  five  minutes  in  the  next  room  I  " 

"  What  to  do  !  "  he  asked. 

The  face  of  his  prisoner  as  he  advanced  to  whisper  in  his 
ear,  made  him  recoil  involuntarily.  But  he  stopped  and  lis- 
tened to  him.  The  words  were  few,  but  his  own  face 
changed  as  he  heard  them. 

'*  I  have  it  about  me,"  said  Jonas,  putting  his  hands  to 
his  throat,  as  though  whatever  he  referred  to,  were  hidden 
in  his  neckkerchief.  "  How  should  you  know  of  it  ?  How 
could  you  know  ?  A  hundred  pound  for  only  five  minutes 
in  the  next  room  ?     The  time's  passing.     Speak  !  " 

"  It  would  be  more — more  creditable  to  the  family,"  ob- 
served Slyme,  with  trembling  lips.  "  I  wish  you  hadn't  told 
me  half  so  much.  Less  would  have  served  your  purpose. 
You  might  have  kept  it  to  yourself." 

"  A  hundred  pounds  for  only  five  minutes  in  the  next 
room  !     Speak  !  "  cried  Jonas,  desperately. 

He  took  the  purse.  Jonas,  with  a  wild  unsteady  step, 
retreated  to  the  door  in  the  glass  partition. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Slyme,  catching  at  his  skirts.  "  I  don't 
know  about  this.  Yet  it  must  end  so  at  last.  Are  you 
guilty  ? " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Jonas. 


786  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Are  the  proofs  as  they  were  told  just  now  ? 

**  Yes  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Will  you — will  you  engage  to  say  a — a  prayer,  now,  or 
something  of  that  sort  ? "    faltered  Slyme. 

Jonas  broke  from  him  without  replying,  and  closed  the 
door  between  them. 

Slyme  listened  at  the  key-hole.  After  that,  he  crept  away 
on  tiptoe,  as  far  off  as  he  could  ;  and  looked  awfully  toward 
the  place.  He  was  roused  by  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  and 
their  letting  down  the  steps. 

"  He's  getting  a  few  things  together,"  he  said,  leaning  out 
of  window,  and  speaking  to  the  two  men  below,  who  stood 
in  the  full  light  of  a  street-lamp.  "  Keep  your  eye  upon  the 
back,  one  of  you,  for  form's  sake." 

One  of  the  men  withdrew  into  the  court.  The  other, 
seating  himself  on  the  steps  of  the  coach,  remained  in  con- 
versation with  Slyme  at  the  window  :  who  perhaps  had 
risen  to  be  his  superior,  in  virtue  of  his  old  propensity 
(one  so  much  lauded  by  the  murdered  man)  of  being 
always  round  the  corner.  A  useful  habit  in  his  present 
calling. 

*'  Where  is  he  ? "  asked  the  man. 

Slyme  looked  into  the  room  for  an  instant  and  gave  his 
head  a  jerk,  as  much  as  to  say,  *'  Close  at  hand.     I  see  him." 

"  He's  booked,"  observed  the  man. 

"  Through,"  said  Slyme. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  and  up  and  down  the  street. 
The  man  on  the  coach-steps  took  his  hat  off,  and  put  it  on 
again  and  whistled  a  little. 

**  I  say  !    He's  taking  his  time  !  "  he  remonstrated. 

"  I  allowed  him  five  minutes,"  said  Slyme.  "  Time's 
more  than  up,  though.     I'll  bring  him  down." 

He  withdrew  from  the  window  accordingly,  and  walked 
on  tiptoe  to  the  door  in  the  partition.  He  listened.  There 
was  not  a  sound  within.  He  set  the  candles  near  it,  that 
they  might  shine  through  the  glass. 

It  was  not  easy,  he  found,  to  make  up  his  mind  to  the 
opening  of  the  door.  But  he  flung  it  wide  open  suddenly, 
and  with  a  noise  ;  then  retreated.  After  peeping  in  and 
listening  again,  he  entered. 

He  started  back  as  his  eyes  met  those  of  Jonas,  standing 
in  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  staring  at  him.  His  neckker- 
chief  was  off  ;  his  face  was  ashy  pale. 

"  You're  too  soon,"  said  Jonas,  with  an  abject  whimper. 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  ^  787 

"  I've  not  had  time.  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  it.  I — five 
minutes  more — two  minutes  more  ! — Only  one  !  " 

Slyme  gave  him  no  reply,  but  thrusting  the  purse  upon 
him  and  forcing  it  back  into  his  pocket,  called  upon  his  men. 

He  whined,  and  cried,  and  cursed,  and  entreated  them, 
and  struggled,  and  submitted,  in  the  same  breath,  and  had 
no  power  to  stand.  They  got  him  away  and  into  the  coach, 
where  they  put  him  on  a  seat  ;  but  he  soon  fell  moaning 
down  among  the  straw  at  the  bottom,  and  lay  there. 

The  two  men  were  with  him  ;  Slyme  being  on  the  box 
with  the  driver  ;  and  they  let  him  lie.  Happening  to  pass  a 
fruiterer's  on  their  way,  the  door  of  which  was  open,  though 
the  shop  was  by  this  time  shut,  one  of  them  remarked  how 
faint  the  peaches  smelled. 

The  other  assented  at  the  moment,  but  presently  stooped 
down  in  quick  alarm,  and  looked  at  the  prisoner. 

*'  Stop  the  coach  !  He  has  poisoned  himself  !  The  smell 
comes  from  this  bottle  in  his  hand  !  " 

The  hand  had  shut  upon  it  tight.  With  that  rigidity  of 
grasp  with  which  no  living  man,  in  the  full  strength  and 
energy  of  life,  can  clutch  a  prize  he  has  won. 

They  dragged  him  out,  into  the  dark  street  ;  but  jury, 
judge,  and  hangman,  could  have  done  no  more,  and  could 
do  nothing  now.     Dead,  dead,  dead. 


CHAPTER    LIT. 

IN    WHICH   THE   TABLES     ARE     TURNED     COMPLETELY    UPSIDE 

DOWN. 

Old  Martin's  cherished  projects,  so  long  hidden  in  his 
own  breast,  so  frequently  in  danger  of  abrupt  disclosure 
through  the  bursting  forth  of  the  indignation  he  had  hoarded 
up,  during  his  residence  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  were  retarded, 
but  not  beyond  a  few  hours,  by  the  occurrences  just  now 
related.  Stunned,  as  he  had  been  at  first  by  the  intelligence 
conveyed  to  him  through  Tom  Pinch  and  John  Westlock,  of 
the  supposed  manner  of  his  brother's  death;  overwhelmed  as 
he  was  by  the  subsequent  narratives  of  Chuffey  and  Nadgett, 
and  the  forging  of  that  chain  of  circumstances  ending  in  the 
death  of  Jonas,  of  which  catastrophe  he  was  immediately  in- 
formed; scattered  as  his  purposes  and  hopes  were  for  the 
moment,  by  the  crowding  in  of  all   these  incidents  between 


7S8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

him  and  his  end:  still  their  very  intensity  and  the  tumult  ot 
their  assemblage  nerved  him  to  the  rapid  and  unyielding 
execution  of  his  scheme.  In  every  single  circumstance, 
whether  it  were  cruel,  cowardly,  or  false,  he  saw  the  flowering 
of  the  same  pregnant  seed.  Self  ;  grasping,  eager,  narrow- 
ranging,  over-reaching  self;  with  its  long  train  of  suspicions, 
lusts,  deceits,  and  all  their  growing  consequences  ;  was  the 
root  of  the  vile  tree.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  so  presented  his 
character  before  the  old  man's  eyes,  that  he — the  good,  the 
tolerant,  enduring  Pecksniff — had  become  the  incarnation  of 
all  selfishness  and  treachery;  and  the  more  odious  the  shapes 
in  which  those  vices  ranged  themselves  before  him  now,  the 
sterner  consolation  he  had  in  his  design  of  setting  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff right,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff's  victims  too. 

To  this  work  he  brought,  not  only  the  energy  and  deter- 
mination natural  to  his  character  (which,  as  the  reader  may 
have  observed  in  the  beginning  of  his  or  her  acquaintance 
with  this  gentleman,  was  remarkable  for  the  strong  develop- 
ment of  those  qualities);  but  all  the  forced  and  unnaturally 
nurtured  energy  consequent  upon  their  long  suppression. 
And  these  two  tides  of  resolution  setting  into  one  and  sweep- 
ing on,  became  so  strong  and  vigorous,  that,  to  prevent 
themselves  from  being  carried  away  before  it.  Heaven  knows 
where,  was  as  much  as  John  Westlock  and  Mark  Tapley  to- 
gether (though  they  were  tolerably  energetic  too)  could 
manage  to  effect. 

He  had  sent  for  John  Westlock  immediately  on  his  arri- 
val; and  John,  under  the  coiiduct  of  Tom  Pinch,  had  waited 
on  him.  Having  a  lively  recollection  of  Mr.  Tapley,  he  had 
caused  that  gentleman's  attendance  to  be  secured,  through 
John's  means,  without  delay;  and  thus,  as  we  have  seen, 
they  had  all  repaired  together,  to  the  City.  But  his  grandson 
he  had  refused  to  see  until  to-morrow,  when  Mr.  Tapley  wa.^ 
instructed  to  summon  him  to  the  Temple  at  ten  o'clock  in 
the  forenoon.  Tom  he  would  not  allow  to  be  employed  in 
any  thing,  lest  he  should  be  wrongfully  suspected;  but  he  was 
a  party  to  all  their  proceedings,  and  was  with  them  until  late 
at  night — until  after  they  knew  of  the  death  of  Jonas;  when 
he  went  home  to  tell  all  these  wonders  to  little  Ruth,  and  to 
prepare  her  for  accompanying  him  to  the  Temple  in  the 
morning,  agreeably  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  particular  injunction. 

It  was  characteristic  of  old  Martin,  and  his  looking  on  to 
something  which  he  had  distinctly  before  him,  that  he  com- 
;nunicated  to  them  nothing  of  his  intentions,   beyond  such 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  789 

hints  of  reprisal  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  they  gathered  from  the 
game  he  had  played  in  that  gentleman's  house,  and  the  bright- 
ening of  his  eyes  whenever  his  name  was  mentioned.  Even 
to  John  Westlock,  in  whom  he  was  evidently  disposed  to 
place  great  confidence  (which  may  indeed  be  said  of  every 
one  of  them),  he  gave  no  explanation  whatever.  He  merely 
requested  him  to  return  in  the  morning;  and  with  this  for 
their  utmost  satisfaction,  they  left  him,  when  the  night  was 
far  advanced,  alone. 

The  events  of  such  a  day  might  have  worn  out  the  body 
and  spirit  of  mucli  younger  men  than  he,  but  he  sat  in  deep 
and  painful  meditation  until  the  morning  was  bright.  Nor 
did  he  even  then  seek  any  prolonged  repose,  but  merely 
slumbered  in  his  chair,  until  seven  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Tapley 
had  appointed  to  come  to  him  by  his  desire:  and  came — as 
fresh  and  clean  and  cheerful  as  the  morning  itself. 

*^  You  are  punctual,  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  opening  the 
door  to  him  in  reply  to  his  light  knock,  which  had  roused 
him  instantly. 

"  My  wishes,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tapley,  whose  mind  would 
appear  from  the  context  to  have  been  running  on  the  matri- 
monial service,  "  is  to  love,  honor,  and  obey.  The  clock's 
a-striking,  now,  sir." 

"  Come  in  !  " 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Tapley,  "  what  could  I  do 
for  you  first,  sir  ?" 

"  You  gave  my  message  to  Martin  ?  "  said  the  old  man, 
bending  his  eyes  upon  him. 

'*  I  did,  sir,"  returned  Mark;  "  and  you  never  see  a  gentle- 
man more  surprised  in  all  your  born  days  than  he  was." 

"  What  more  did  you  tell  him  ?  "  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  inquired. 

"Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  smiling,'*!  should  have 
liked  to  tell  him  a  deal  more,  but  not  being  able,  sir,  I  didn't 
tdl  it  him." 

*'  You  told  him  all  you  knew  ?  " 

"  But  it  was  precious  little,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley. 
"  There  was  very  little  respectin'  you  that  1  was  able  to  tell 
him,  sir.  I  only  mentioned  my  opinion  that  Mr.  Pecksniff 
would  find  himself  deceived,  sir,  and  that  you  would  find 
yourself  deceived,  and  that  he  would  find  himself  deceived, 
sir." 

"  In  what  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  Meaning  him,  sir  ?  " 

**  Meaning  both  him  and  me." 


790  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

*'  Well,  sir  !  "  said  Mr.Tapley.  *'  In  your  old  opinions  of 
each  other.  As  to  him,  sir,  and  his  opinions,  I  know  he's  a 
altered  man.  I  know  it.  I  know'd  it  long  afore  he  spoke  to 
you  t'other  day,  and  I  must  say  it.  Nobody  don't  know  half 
as  much  of  him  as  I  do.  Nobody  can't.  There  was  always  a 
deal  of  good  in  him,  but  a  little  of  it  got  crusted  over,  some- 
how. I  can't  say  who  rolled  the  paste  of  that  'ere  crust 
myself,  but — " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Martin.     "  Why  do  you  stop  ?  " 

"  But  it — well  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  think  it  may 
have  been  you,  sir.  Unintentional  I  think  it  may  have  been 
you.  I  don't  believe  that  neither  of  you  gave  the  other  quite 
a  fair  chance.  There!  Now  I've  got  rid  on  it,"  said  Mr. 
Tapley  in  a  fit  of  desperation:  **  I  can't  go  acarryin'  it  about 
in  my  own  mind,  bustin'  myself  with  it;  yesterday  was  quite 
long  enough.  It's  out  now.  I  can't  help  it.  I'm  sorry  for  it. 
Don't  wisitit  on  him,  sir,  that's  all." 

It  was  clear  that  Mark  expected  to  be  ordered  out  imme- 
diately, and  was  quite  prepared  to  go. 

"  So  you  think,"  said  Martin,  ''  that  his  old  faults  are,  in 
some  degree,  of  my  creation,  do  you  ?  " 

''Well,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley,  "I'm  werry  sorry,  but 
I  can't  unsay  it.  It's  hardly  fair  for  you,  sir,  to  make  a  igno- 
rant man  conwict  himself  in  this  way,  but  I  do  think  so.  I 
am  as  respectful  disposed  to  you,  sir,  as  a  man  can  be;  but  I 
do  think  so." 

The  light  of  a  faint  smile  seemed  to  break  through  the  dull 
steadiness  of  Martin's  face,  as  he  looked  attentively  at  him 
without  replying. 

"Yet  you  are  an  ignorant  man,  you  say,"  he  observed 
after  a  long  pause. 

"Werymuch  so,"  Mr.  Tapley  replied. 

''  And  I  a  learned,  well-instructed  man,  you  think  ?  "     ^ 

*'  Likewise  wery  much  so,"  Mr.  Tapley  answered. 

The  old  man,  with  his  chin  resting  on  his  hand,  paced  the 
room  twice  or  thrice  before  he  added  : 

"  You  have  left  him  this  morning  .?  " 

"  Come  straight  from  him  now,  sir." 

"  For  what:  does  he  suppose  ?  " 

"  He  don't  know  what  to  suppose,  sir,  no  more  than 
myself.  I  told  him  jest  what  passed  yesterday,  sir,  and  that 
you  had  said  to  me,  '  Can  you  be  here  by  seven  in  the  morn- 
ing ? '  and  that  you  had  said  to  him,  through  me,  *  Can  you 
be  here  by  ten  in  the  morning  ? '  and  that  I  had  said  *  Yes'  to 
both.     That's  all,  sir." 


MARTIN  CIIUZZLKWIT.  791 

His  frankness  was  so  genuine  that  it  plainly  ivas  all. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Martin,  "  he  may  think  you  arc  going  to 
desert  him,  and  to  serve  me  ? " 

'*  I  have  served  him  in  that  sort  of  way,  sir,"  replied  Mark, 

without  the  loss  of  any  atom  of  his  self-possession;  "  and  we 

have  been  that  sort  of  companions  in  misfortune,  that  my 

opinion  is,  he  don't  believe  a  word  on  it.    No  more  than  you 

o,  sir. 

"  Will  you  help  me  to  dress  ?  and  get  me  some  breakfast 
from  the  hotel  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

**  With  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

**  And  by-and-by,"  pursued  Martin,  "  remaining  in  the  room 
as  I  wish  you  to  do,  will  you  attend  to  the  door  yonder — give 
admission  to  visitors,  I  mean,  when  they  knock  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

*'  You  will  find  it  necessary  to  express  surprise  at  their 
appearance,"  Martin  suggested. 

*'  Oh  dear  no,  sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  not  at  all." 

Although  he  pledged  himself  to  this  with  perfect  confi- 
dence, he  was  in  a  state  of  unbounded  astonishment  even 
now.  Martin  appeared  to  observe  it,  and  to  have  some 
sense  of  the  ludicrous  bearing  of  Mr.  Tapley  under  these 
perplexing  circumstances;  for  in  spite  of  the  composure  of 
his  voice  and  the  gravity  of  his  face,  the  same  indistinct 
light  flickered  on  the  latter  several  times.  Mark  bestirred 
himself,  however,  to  execute  the  offices  with  which  he  was 
intrusted ;  and  soon  lost  all  tendency  to  any  outward 
expression  of  his  surprise,  in  the  occupation  of  being  brisk 
and  busy. 

But  when  he  had  put  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  clothes  in  good 
order  for  dressing,  and  when  that  gentleman  was  dressed  and 
sitting  at  his  breakfast,  Mr.  Tapley's  feelings  of  wonder  began 
to  return  upon  him  with  great  violence;  and  standing  beside 
the  old  man  with  a  napkin  under  his  arm  (it  was  as  natural 
and  easy  a  joke  to  Mark  to  be  a  butler  in  the  Temple,  as  it 
had  been  to  volunteer  as  a  cook  on  board  the  Scre'iv),  he 
found  it  difficult  to  resist  the  temptation  of  casting  sidelong 
glances  at  him  very  often.  Nay,  he  found  it  impossible  ; 
and  accordingly  yielded  to  this  impulse  so  often,  that  Martin 
caught  him  in  the  fact  some  fifty  times.  The  extraordinary 
things  Mr.  Tapley  did  with  his  own  face  when  any  of  these 
detections  occurred  ;  the  sudden  occasion  he  had  to  rub  hi^ 
eyes  or  his  nose  or  his  chin  ;  the  look  of  wisdom  with  which 
he  immediately  plunged  into  the  deepest  thought,  or  became 


792  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

mtensely  interested  in  the  habits  and  customs  of  the  flies 
upon  the  ceiling,  or  the  sparrows  out  of  doors  ;  or  the  over- 
whehning  politeness  with  which  he  endeavored  to  hide  his 
confusion  by  handing  the  muffins  ;  may  not  unreasonably 
be  assumed  to  have  exercised  the  utmost  power  of  feature 
that  even  Martin  Chuzzlevvit  the  elder  possessed. 

But  he  was  perfectly  quiet  and  took  his  breakfast  at  his 
leisure,  or  made  a  show  of  doing  so,  for  ho  scarcely  ate  or 
drank,  and  frequently  lapsed  into  long  intervals  of  musing. 
When  he  had  finished,  Mark  sat  down  to  his  breakfast  at  the 
same  table  ;  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  quite  silent  still,  walked 
up  and  down  the  room. 

Mark  cleared  away  in  due  course,  and  set  a  chair  out  for 
him,  in  which,  as  the  time  drew  on  toward  ten  o'clock,  he 
took  his  seat,  leaning  his  hands  upon  his  stick,  and  clench- 
ing them  upon  the  handle,  and  resting  his  chin  on  them 
again.  All  his  impatience  and  abstraction  of  manner  had 
vanished  now  ;  and  as  he  sat  there,  looking,  wath  his  keen 
eyes,  steadily  toward  the  door,  Mark  could  not  help  think- 
ing what  a  firm,  square,  powerful  face  it  was  ;  or  exulting  in. 
the  thought  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  playing  a  pretty  long 
game  of  bowls  wath  its  owner,  seemed  to  be  at  last  in  a  very 
fair  way  of  coming  in  for  a  rubber  or  two. 

Mark's  uncertainty  in  respect  of  what  was  going  to  be 
done  or  said,  and  by  whom  to  whom,  would  have  excited 
him  in  itself.  But  knowing  for  a  certainty  besides,  that  young 
Martin  was  coming,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  must  arrive, 
he  found  it  by  no  means  easy  to  remain  quiet  and  silent. 
But,  excepting  tliat  he  occasionally  coughed  in  a  hollow  and 
unnatural  manner  to  relieve  himself,  he  behaved  with  great 
decorum  through  the  longest  ten  minutes  he  had  ever  known. 

A  knock  at  the  door.  Mr.  Westlock.  Mr.  Tapley,  in  ad- 
mitting him,  raised  his  eyebrows  to  the  highest  possible  pitch, 
implying  thereby  that  he  considered  himself  in  an  unsatis- 
factory position.  Mr.  Chuzzlevvit  received  him  very  cour- 
teously. 

Mark  waited  at  the  door  for  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister, 
who  were  coming  up  the  stairs.  The  old  man  went  lo  meet 
them  ;  took  her  hands  in  his  ;  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 
As  this  looked  promising,  Mr.  Tapley  smiled  benignantly. 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  resumed  his  chair,  before  young  Mar- 
tin, who  was  close  behind  them,  entered.  The  old  man, 
scarcely  looking  at  him,  pointed  to  a  distant  seat.  This  was 
less  encouraging  ;  and  Mr.  Tapley' s  spirits  fell  again. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  793 

He  was  quickly  summoned  to  the  door  by  another  knock. 
He  did  not  start,  or  cry,  or  tumble  down,  at  sight  of  Miss 
Graham  or  Mrs.  Lupin,  but  he  drew  a  very  long  breath,  and 
came  back  perfectly  resigned,  looking  on  them  and  on  the 
rest  with  an  expression  which  seemed  to  say,  that  nothing 
could  surprise  him  any  more  and  that  he  was  rather  glad  to 
have  done  with  that  sensation  forever. 

The  old  man  received  Mary  no  less  tenderly  than  he  had 
received  Tom  Pinch's  sister.  A  look  of  friendly  recognition 
passed  between  himself  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  which  implied  the 
existence  of  a  perfect  understanding  between  them.  It  en- 
gendered no  astonishment  in  Mr.  Tapley  ;  for,  as  he  after- 
ward observed,  he  had  retired  from  the  business,  and  sold 
off  the  stock. 

Not  the  least  curious  feature  in  this  assemblage  was,  that 
every  body  present  was  so  much  surprised  and  embarrassed 
by  the  sight  of  every  body  else,  that  nobody  ventured  to 
speak.     Mr.  Chuzzlewit  alone  broke  silence. 

*'  Set  the  door  open,  Mark  !  "  he  said  ;  "  and  come  here." 
Mark  obeyed. 

The  last  appointed  footstep  sounded  now  upon  the  stairs. 
They  all  knew  it.   It  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
was  in  a  hurry  too,  for  he  came  bounding  up  with  such   un- 
■  common  expedition  that  he  stumbled  twice  or  thrice. 

"  Where  is  my  venerable  friend  ?  "  he  cried  upon  the  upper 
landing  ;  and  then  vv'ith  open  arms  came  darting  in. 

Old  Martin  merely  looked  at  him  ;  but  Mr.  Pecksniff 
started  back  as  if  he  had  received  the  charge  of  an  electric 
battery. 

*'  My  venerable  friend  is  well  ?"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Quite  well." 

It  seemed  to  reassure  the  anxious  inquirer.  He  clasped 
his  hands,  and  looking  upv/ard  with  a  pious  joy,  silently 
expressed  his  gratitude.  He  then  looked  round  on  the 
assembled  group,  and  shook  his  head  reproachfully.  For 
such  a  man  severely,  quite  severely. 

"  Oh,  vermin  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Oh,  bloodsuckers  ! 
Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  imbittered  the  existence  of 
an  individual,  wholly  unparalleled  in  the  biographical  records 
of  amiable  persons  ;  but  must  you  now,  even  now,  when  he 
has  made  his  election,  and  reposed  his  trust  in  a  numble, 
but  at  least  sincere  and  disinterested  relative  ;  must  you 
now,  vermin  and  swarmers  (I  regret  to  make  use  of  these 
strong  expressions,  my   dear  sir,  but  there  are  times  when 


794  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

honest  indignation  will  not  be  controlled),  must  you  now, 
vermin  and  swarmers  (for  I  will  repeat  it),  taking  advantage 
of  his  unprotected  state,  assemble  round  him  from  all 
quarters,  as  wolves  and  vultures,  and  other  animals  of  the 
feathered  tribe  assemble  round  —  I  will  not  say  round 
carrion  or  a  carcass,  for  Mr,  Chuzzlewit  is  quite  the  con- 
trary— but  round  their  prey — their  prey — to  rifle  and  des- 
poil ;  gorging  their  voracious  maws,  and  staining  their  offen- 
sive beaks,  with  every  description  of  carnivorous  enjoyment !" 

As  he  stopped  to  fetch  his  breath,  he  waved  them  off,  in 
a  solemn  manner,  with  his  hand. 

''  Horde  of  unnatural  plunderers  and  robbers  !  "  he  con- 
tinued ;  '*  leave  him  !  leave  him,  I  say  !  Begone  !  Abscond  ! 
You  had  better  be  off  !  Wander  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
young  sirs,  like  vagabonds  as  you  are,  and  do  not  presume 
to  remain  in  a  spot  which  is  hallowed  by  the  gray  hairs  of 
the  patriarchal  gentleman  to  whose  tottering  limbs  I  have 
the  honor  to  act  as  an  unworthy,  but  I  hope  an  unassuming, 
prop  and  staff.  And  you,  my  tender  sir,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, addressing  himself  in  a  tone  of  gentle  remonstrance  to 
the  old  man,  "  how  could  you  ever  leave  me,  though  even 
for  this  short  period  !  You  have  absented  yourself,  I  have 
no  doubt,  upon  some  act  of  kindness  to  me  ;  bless  you  for 
it  :  but  you  must  not  do  it  ;  you  must  not  be  so  venturesome. 
I  should  really  be  angry  with  you  if  I  could,  my  friend  !  " 

He  advanced  with  outstretched  arms  to  take  the  old  man's 
hand.  But  he  had  not  seen  how  the  hand  clasped  and 
clutched  the  stick  within  its  grasp.  As  he  came  smiling  on, 
and  got  within  his  reach,  old  Martin,  with  his  burning  indig- 
nation crowded  into  one  vehement  burst,  and  flashing  out  of 
every  line  and  wrinkle  in  his  face,  rose  up,  and  struck  him 
down  upon  the  ground. 

With  such  a  well-directed  nervous  blow,  that  down  he 
went  as  heavily  and  true  as  if  the  charge  of  a  Life-Guards- 
man had  tumbled  him  out  of  a  saddle.  And  whether  he 
was  stunned  by  the  shock,  or  only  confused  by  the  wonder 
and  novelty  of  this  warm  reception,  he  did  not  offer  to  get 
up  again  ;  but  lay  there,  looking  about  him,  with  a  discon- 
certed meekness  in  his  face  so  enormously  ridiculous,  that 
neither  Mark  Tapley  nor  John  Westlock  could  repress  a 
smile,  though  both  were  actively  interposing  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  the  blow  ;  which  the  old  man's  gleaming  eyes 
and  vigorous  attitude  seemed  to  render  one  of  the  most 
probable  events  in  the  world. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  795 

"  Drag  him  away  !  Take  him  out  of  my  reach,"  said 
Martin  ;  "  or  I  can't  help  it.  The  strong  restraint  I  have 
put  upon  my  hands  has  been  enough  to  palsy  them.  I  am 
not  master  of  myself,  while  he  is  within  their  range.  Drag 
him  away  I  " 

Seeing  that  he  still  did  not  rise,  Mr.  Tapley,  without  any 
compromise  about  it,  actually  did  drag  him  away,  and  stick 
him  up  on  the  floor,  with  his  back  against  the  opposite  wall. 

"  Hear  me,  rascal  !  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  I  have  sum- 
moned you  here  to  witness  your  own  work.  I  have  sum- 
moned you  here  to  witness  it,  because  I  know  it  will  be 
gall  and  wormwood  to  you  !  I  have  summoned  you  here  to 
witness  it,  because  I  know  the  sight  of  every  body  here 
must  be  a  dagger  in  your  mean,  false  heart  !  What !  do  you 
know  me  as  I  am,  at  last  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  cause  to  stare  at  him,  for  the  triumph 
in  his  face  and  speech  and  figure  was  a  sight  to  stare  at. 

**  Look  there  !  "  said  the  old  man,  pointing  at  him,  and 
appealing  to  the  rest.  *"  Look  there  !  And  then — come 
hither,  my  dear  Martin — look  here  !  here  !  here  !  "  At  every 
earnest  repetition  of  the  word  he  pressed  his  grandson 
closer  to  his  breast. 

"  The  passion  I  felt,  Martin,  when  I  dared  not  do  this," 
he  said,  ^'  was  in  the  blow  I  struck  just  now.  Why  did  we 
ever  part  !  how  could  we  ever  part  I  How  could  you  ever  fly 
from  me  to  him  !  " 

Martin  was  about  to  answer,  but  he  stopped  him,  and 
went  on. 

"  The  fault  was  mine  no  less  than  yours.  Mark  has  told 
me  so  to-day,  and  I  have  known  it  long  ;  though  not  so  long 
as  I  might  have  done.     Mary,  my  love,  come  here." 

As  she  trembled  and  was  very  pale,  he  sat  her  in  his 
own  chair,  and  stood  beside  it  with  her  hand  in  his  ;  and 
Martin  standing  by  him. 

"The  curse  of  our  house,"  said  the  old  man,  looking 
kindly  down  upon  her,  "  has  been  the  love  of  self  ;  has  ever 
been  the  love  of  self.  How  often  have  I  said  so,  when  I 
never  knew  that  I  had  wrought  it  upon  others  !  " 

He  drew  one  hand  through  Martin's  arm,  and  standing  so, 
between  them,  proceeded  thus  : 

"  You  all  know  how  I  bred  this  orphan  up,  to  tend  me. 
None  of  you  can  know  by  what  degrees  I  have  come  to 
regard  her  as  a  daughter  ;  for  she  has  won  upon  me,  by  her 
self-forgetfalness,  her  tenderness,  her  patience,  all  the  good- 


796  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

ness  of  her  nature,  when  heaven  is  her  witness  that  I  took 
but  little  pains  to  draw  it  forth.  It  blossomed  without  cul- 
tivation, and  it  ripened  without  heat.  I  can  not  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  say  that  I  am  sorry  for  it  now,  or  yonder  fellow 
might  be  holding  up  his  head." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  put  his  hand  into  his  waistcoat,  and  slightly 
shook  that  part  of  him  to  which  allusion  had  been  made  :  as 
if  to  signify  that  it  was  still  uppermost. 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  selfishness,"  said  Martin  ;  "  I  have 
learned  it  in  my  own  experience  of  my  own  breast  ;  which  is 
constantly  upon  the  watch  for  selfishness  in  others  ;  and 
holding  others  at  a  distance  by  suspicions  and  distrusts,  won- 
ders why  they  don't  approach,  and  don't  confide,  and  calls 
that  selfishness  in  them.  Thus  I  once  doubted  those  about 
me — not  without  reason  in  the  beginning — and  thus  I  once 
doubted  you,  Martin." 

''Not  without  reason,"  Martin  answered  ;  ** either." 

''  Listen,  hypocrite  !  Listen,  smooth-tongued,  servile, 
crawling  knave  !  "  said  Martin.  ''  Listen,  you  shallow  dog. 
What  !  When  I  was  seeking  him,  you  had  already  spread 
your  nets  ;  you  were  already  fishing  for  him,  were  ye  ?  When 
I  lay  ill- in  this  good  woman's  house,  and  your  meek  spirit 
pleaded  for  my  grandson,  you  had  already  caught  him,  had 
ye  ?  Counting  on  the  restoration  of  the  love  you  knew  I  bore 
him,  you  designed  him  for  one  of  your  two  daughters,  did  ye  ? 
Or  failing  that,  you  traded  in  him  as  a  speculation  which  at 
any  rate  should  blind  me  with  the  luster  of  your  charity,  and 
found  a  claim  upon  me  !  Why,  even  then  I  knew  you,  and  1 
told  you  so.     Did  I  tell  you  that   I   knew  you,  even  then.'*" 

"  I  am  not  angry,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  softly.  "  I  can 
bear  a  great  deal  from  you.  I  will  never  contradict  you, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"  Observe  !  "  said  Martin,  looking  round.  "  I  put  myself 
in  that  man's  hands  on  terms  as  mean  and  base,  and  r.s 
degrading  to  himself  as  I  could  render  them  in  words.  I 
stated  them  at  length  to  him,  before  his  own  children,  sylla- 
ble by  syllable,  as  coarsely  as  I  could,  and  with  as  much 
offense,  and  with  as  plain  an  exposition  of  my  contempt,  as 
words — not  looks  and  manner  merely — could  convey.  If  1 
had  only  called  the  angry  blood  into  his  face,  I  would  have 
wavered  in  my  purpose.  If  I  had  only  stung  him  into  being 
a  man  for  a  minute  I  would  have  abandoned  it.  If  he  had 
offered  me  one  word  of  remonstrance,  in  favor  of  the  grand- 
son whom  he  supposed  I  had  disinherited  ;  if  he  had  pleaded 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  797 

with  me,  tiiough  never  so  faintly,  against  my  appeal  to  him 
to  abandon  him  to  misery  and  cast  him  from  his  house  ;  .' 
think  I  could  have  borne  with  him  forever  afterward.  Bui 
not  a  word,  not  a  word.  Pandering  to  the  worst  of  human 
passions  was  the  office  of  his  nature  ;  and  faithfully  he  did 
his  work  !  " 

"  I  am  not  angry,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  I  am  hurt, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ;  wounded  in  my  feelings  ;  but  I  am  not 
angry,  my  good  sir." 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  resumed. 

"  Once  resolved  to  try  him,  I  was  resolute  to  pursue  the 
trial  to  the  end  ;  but  while  I  was  bent  on  fathoming  the  depth 
of  his  duplicity,  1  made  a  sacred  compact  with  myself  that  I 
would  give  him  credit  on  the  other  side  for  any  latent  spark 
of  goodness,  honor,  forbearance — any  virtue — that  might 
glimmer  in  him.  From  first  to  last,  there  has  been  no  such 
thing.  Not  once.  He  can  not  say  I  have  not  given  him 
opportunity.  He  can  not  say  I  have  ever  led  him  on.  He 
can  not  say  I  have  not  left  him  freely  to  himself  in  all  things; 
or  that  I  have  not  been  a  passive  instrument  in  his  hands, 
which  he  might  have  used  for  good  as  easily  as  evil.  Or  if 
he  can,  he  lies  !  And  that's  his  nature  too." 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  interrupted  Pecksniff,  shedding  tears. 
"  I  am  not  angry,  sir.  I  can  not  be  angry  with  you.  But  did 
you  never,  my  dear  sir,  express  a  desire  that  the  unnatural 
young  man  who  by  his  wicked  arts  has  estranged  your  good 
opinion  from  me,  for  the  time  being  ;  only  for  the  time  being  ; 
that  your  grandson,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  should  be  dismissed  my 
house?     Recollect  yourself,  my  Christian  friend." 

"  I  have  said  so,  have  I  not  ? "  retorted  the  old  man, 
sternly.  *'  I  could  not  tell  how  far  your  specious  hypocrisy 
had  deceived  him,  knave;  and  knew  no  better  way  of  opening 
his  eyes  than  by  presenting  you  before  him  in  your  own  ser- 
vile character.  Yes.  I  did  express  that  desire.  And  you 
leaped  to  meet  it  ;  and  you  met  it  ;,and  turning  in  an 
instant  on  the  hand  you  had  licked  and  beslavered,  as  only 
such  hounds  can,  you  strengthened,  and  confirmed,  and 
justified  me  in  my  scheme." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  a  bow  ;  a  submissive,  not  to  say,  a 
groveling  and  an  abject  bow.  If  he  had  been  complimented 
on  his  practice  of  the  loftiest  virtues,  he  never  could  have 
bowed  as  he  bowed  then. 

"  The  wretched  man  who  has  been  murdered,"  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit went  on  to  say  :  "  then   passing  by  the  name  of " 


ygS  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

'*  Tigg,'"  suggested  Mark. 

**  Of  Tigg — brought  begging  messages  to  me,  on  behalf  of 
d  friend  of  his,  and  an  unworthy  relative  of  mine  ;  and 
finding  him  a  man  well  enough  suited  to  my  purposes,  I 
employed  him  to  glean  some  news  of  you,  Martin,  for  me. 
It  was  from  him  I  learned  that  you  had  taken  up  your 
Abode  with  yonder  fellow.  It  was  he,  who  meeting  you  here, 
in  town,  one  evening — you  remember  where  ?  " 

*'  At  the  pawnbroker's  shop,"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes  ;  watched  you  to  your  lodging,  and  enabled  me  to 
send  you  a  bank  note." 

"  I  little  thought,"  said  Martin,  greatly  moved,  "  that  it 
had  come  from  you.  I  little  thought  that  you  were  interested 
in  my  fate.     If  I  had " 

**  If  you  had,"  returned  the  old  man,  sorrowfully,  "  you 
would  have  shown  less  knowledge  of  me  as  I  seemed  to  be, 
and  as  I  really  was.  I  hoped  to  bring  you  back,  Martin, 
penitent  and  humbled.  I  hoped  to  distress  you  in  to  coming 
back  to  me.  Much  as  I  loved  you,  I  had  that  to  acknowl- 
edge which  I  could  not  reconcile  it  to  myself  to  avow,  then, 
unless  you  made  submission  to  me,  first.  Thus  it  was  I 
lost  you.  If  I  have  had,  indirectly,  any  act  or  part  in  the 
fate  of  that  unhappy  man,  by  putting  means,  however  small, 
within  his  reach ;  Heaven  forgive  me  !  I  might  have 
known,  perhaps,  that  he  would  misuse  money  ;  that  it  was 
ill-bestowed  upon  him  ;  and  that  sown  by  his  hands,  it 
could  engender  mischief  only.  But  I  never  thought  of  him 
at  that  time,  as  having  the  disposition  or  ability  to  be  a 
serious  impostor,  or  otherwise  than  as  a  thoughtless,  idle- 
humored,  dissipated  spendthrift,  sinning  more  against  him- 
self than  others,  and  frequenting  low  haunts  and  indulging 
vicious  tastes,  to  his  own  ruin  only." 

*'  Beggin*  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  who  had 
Mrs.  Lupin  on  his  arm  by  this  time,  quite  agreeably  :  "  if 
I  may  make  so  bold  as  say  so,  my  opinion  is,  as  you  was 
quite  correct,  and  that  he  turned  out  perfectly  nat'ral  for 
all  that.  There's  a  surprisin*  number  of  men,  sir,  who  as 
long  as  they've  only  got  their  own  shoes  and  stockings  to 
depend  upon,  will  walk  down-hill,  along  the  gutters  quiet 
enough,  and  by  themselves,  and  not  do  much  harm.  But 
set  any  on  *em  up  with  a  coach  and  horses,  sir  ;  and  it's 
wonderful  what  a  knowledge  of  drivin'  he'll  show,  and  how 
he'll  fill  his  wehicle  with  passengers,  and  start  off  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,   neck  or  nothing,   to  the  devil !     Bless 


»  >   K.        *         »       4 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  799 

your  heart,  sir,  there's  ever  so  many  Tiggs  a  passing  this 
here  Temple-gate  any  hour  in  the  day,  that  only  want  a 
chance,  to  turn  out  full-blown  Montagues  every  one  !  " 

"  Your  ignorance,  as  you  call  it,  Mark,"  said  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit,  *'  is  wiser  than  some  men's  enlightenment,  and  mine 
among  them.  You  are  right  ;  not  for  the  first  time  to-day. 
Now  hear  me  out,  my  dears.  And  hear  me,  you,  who,  if 
what  I  have  been  told  be  accurately  stated,  are  bankrupt 
in  pocket  no  less  than  in  good  name  !  And  when  you  have 
heard  me,  leave  tliiu  place,  and  poison  my  sight  no  more  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  laid  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and  bowed 
again. 

'*  The  penance  I  have  done  in  this  house,  '  said  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit,  **  has  carried  this  reflection  with  it  constantly, 
above  all  others.  That  if  it  had  pleased  Heaven  to  visit 
such  infirmity  on  my  old  age  as  really  had  reduced  me  to 
the  state  in  which  I  feigned  to  be,  I  should  have  brought 
its  misery  upon  myself.  Oh  you  whose  wealth,  like  mine, 
has  been  a  source  of  continual  unhappiness,  leading  you  to 
distrust  the  nearest  and  dearest,  and  to  dig  yourself  a  living 
grave  of  suspicion  and  reserve  ;  take  heed  that  having  cast 
off  all  whom  you  might  have  bound  to  you,  and  tenderly, 
you  do  not  become  in  your  decay  the  instrument  of  such  a 
man  as  this,  and  waken  in  another  world  to  the  knowledge 
of  such  wrong,  as  would  imbitter  Heaven  itself,  if  wrong  or 
you  could  ever  reach  it  !  " 

And  then  he  told  them,  how  he  had  sometimes  thought,  in 
the  beginning,  that  love  might  grow  up  between  Mary  and 
Martin  ;  and  how  he  had  pleased  his  fancy  with  the  picture 
of  observing  it  when  it  was  new,  and  taking  them  to  task, 
apart,  in  counterfeited  doubt,  and  then  confessing  to  them  that 
it  had  been  an  object  dear  to  his  heart ;  and  by  his  sympathy 
with  them,  and  generous  provision  for  their  young  fortunes, 
establishing  a  claim  on  their  affection  and  regard  which 
nothing  should  wither,  and  which  should  surround  his  old 
age  with  means  of  happiness.  How  in  the  first  dawn  of  this 
design,  and  when  the  pleasure  of  such  a  scheme  for  the  hap- 
piness of  others  was  new  and  indistinct  within  him,  Martin 
had  come  to  tell  him  that  he  had  already  chor,en  for  himself; 
knowing  that  he,  the  old  man,  had  some  faint  project  on 
that  head,  but  ignorant  whom  it  concerned.  How  it  was 
little  comfort  to  him  to  know  that  Martin  had  chosen  her, 
because  the  grace  of  his  design  was  lost,  and  because  find- 
ing that  she  had  returned  his  love,  he  tortured  himself  with 


8oo  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  reflection  that  they,  so  young,  to  whom  he  had  been  so 
kind  a  benefactor,  were  already  like  the  world,  and  bent  on 
their  own  selfish,  stealthy  ends.  How  in  the  bitterness  of 
this  impression,  and  of  his  past  experience,  he  had  re- 
proached Martin  so  harshly  (forgetting  that  he  had  never 
invited  his  confidence  on  such  a  point,  and  confoune^ing 
what  he  had  meant  to  do,  with  what  he  had  done),  that  high 
words  had  sprung  up  between  them,  and  they  separated  in 
wrath.  How  he  loved  him  still,  and  hoped  he  would  return. 
How  on  the  night  of  his  illness  at  the  Dragon,  he  had  se- 
cretly written  tenderly  of  him,  and  made  him  his  heir,  and 
sanctioned  his  marriage  with  Mary;  and  how,  after  his  in- 
terview with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  he  had  distrusted  him  again,  and 
had  bura^d  the  paper  to  ashes,  and  had  lain  down  in  his  bed 
distracted  by  suspicions,  doubts  and  regrets. 

And  then  he  told  them  how,  resolved  to  probe  this  Peck- 
sniff, and  to  prove  the  constancy  and  truth  of  Mary  (to 
himself  no  less  than  Martin),  he  had  conceived  and  entered 
on  his  plan  ;  and  how,  beneath  her  gentleness  and  patience, 
he  had  softened  more  and  more  ;  still  more  and  more  be- 
neath the  goodness  and  simplicity,  the  honor  and  the  manly 
faith  of  Tom.  And  when  he  spoke  of  Tom,  he  said  God 
bless  him  ;  and  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes  ;  for  he  said  that 
Tom,  mistrusted  and  disliked  by  him  at  first,  had  come  like 
summer  rain  upon  his  heart  ;  and  had  disposed  it  to  believe 
in  better  things.  And  Martin  took  him  by  the  hand,  and 
Mary  too,  and  John,  his  old  friend,  stoutly  too  ;  and  Mark, 
and  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  his  sister,  little  Ruth.  And  peace  of 
mind,  deep,  tranquil  peace  of  mind,  was  in  Tom's  heart. 

The  old  man  then  related  how  nobly  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
performed  the  duty  in  which  he  stood  indebted  to  society,  in 
the  matter  of  Tom's  dismissal  ;  and  how,  having  often 
heard  disparagement  of  Mr.  Westlock  from  Pecksnififian 
lips,  and  knowing  him  to  be  a  friend  to  Tom,  he  had  used, 
through  his  confidential  agent  and  solicitor,  that  little  arti- 
fice which  had  kept  him  in  readiness  to  receive  his  unknown 
friend  in  London.  And  he  called  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  (by  the 
name  of  scoundrel)  to  remember  that  there  again  he  had 
not  trapped  him  to  do  evil,  but  that  he  had  done  it  of  his 
own  free  will  and  agency;  nay,  that  he  had  cautioned  him 
against  it.  And  once  again  he  called  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  (by 
the  hame  of  hangdog)  to  remember  that  when  Martin,  com- 
ing home  at  last,  an  altered  man,  had  sued  for  the  forgive- 
ness which  awaited  him,  he,  Pecksniff,  had  rejected   him  in 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  8oi 

language  of  his  own,  and  had  remorselessly  stepped  in  be- 
tween him  and  the  least  touch  of  natural  tenderness,  **  For 
which,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  the  bending  of  my  finger 
would  remove  a  halter  from  your  neck,  I  wouldn't  bend  it!  " 

"Martin,"  he  added,  '*  your  rival  has  not  been  a  danger- 
ous one,  but  Mrs.  Lupin  here,  has  played  duenna  for  some 
weeks  ;  not  so  much  to  watch  your  love,  as  to  watch  her 
lover.  For  that  ghoul  " — his  fertility  in  finding  names  for 
Mr.  Pecksniff  was  astonishing — ''  would  have  crawled  into 
her  daily  walks  otherwise,  and  polluted  the  fresh  air. 
What's  this  ?  Her  hand  is  trembling  strangely.  See  if  you 
can  hold  it." 

Hold  it  !  If  he  clasped  it  half  as  tightly  as  he  did  her  waist 
Well,  well  ! 

But  it  was  good  in  him  that  even  then,  in  his  high  fortune 
and  happiness,  with  her  lips  nearly  printed  on  his  own,  and 
her  proud  young  beauty  in  his  close  embrace,  he  had  a  hand 
still  left  to  stretch  out  to  Tom  Pinch. 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  Dear  Tom  !  I  saw  you,  accidentally,  com- 
ing here.     Forgive  me." 

''  Forgive  !  "  cried  Tom.  *'  I'll  never  forgive  you  as  long  as 
I  live,  Martin,  if  you  say  another  syllable  about  it.  Joy 
to  you  both  !     Joy,  my  dear  fellow,    fifty   thousand   times." 

Joy  !  There  is  not  a  blessing  on  earth  that  Tom  did  not 
wish  them.  There  is  not  a  blessing  on  earth  that  Tom 
would  not  have  bestowed  upon  them,  if  he  could, 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  stepping  for- 
ward, "  but  you  was  mentioning  just  now,  a  lady  of  the  name 
of  Lupin,  sir.'' 

'*  I  was,"  returned  old  Martin. 

"  Yes,  sir.     It's  a  pretty  name,  sir  ?  " 

"  A  very  good  name,"  said  Martin. 

"  It  seems  a'most  a  pity  to  change  such  a  name  into  Tap- 
ley.     Don't  it,  sir  ? "  said  Mark. 

^*  That  depends  upon  the  lady.     What  is  Aer  opinion  ?  " 

*' Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  retiring,  with  a  bow,  toward 
the  buxom  hostess,  "  her  opinion  is  as  the  name  ain't  a  change 
for  the  better,  but  the  indiwidual  may  be,  and  therefore,  if 
nobody  ain't  acquainted  with  no  jest  cause  or  impediment,  et 
cetrar,  the  Blue  Dragon  will  be  con-werted  into  the  Jolly 
Tapley.  A  sign  of  my  own  inwention,  sir.  Wery  new,  con- 
wivial,  and  expressive  !  " 

The  whole  of  these  proceedings  were  so  agreeable  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  that  he  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon   the  floor 


ao2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

and  his  hands  clasping  one  another  alternately,  as  if  a  host 
of  penal  sentences  were  being  passed  upon  him.  Not  only 
did  his  figure  appear  to  have  shrunk,  but  his  discomfiture 
seemed  to  have  extended  itself,  even  to  his  dress.  His  clothes 
seemed  to  have  grown  shabbier,  his  linen  to  have  turned 
yellow,  his  hair  to  have  become  lank  and  frowsy;  his  very 
boots  looked  villainous  and  dim,  as  if  their  gloss  had  de- 
parted with  his  own. 

Feeling,  rather  than  seeing,  that  the  old  man  now  pointed 
to  the  door,  he  raised  his  eyes,  picked  up  his  hat,  and  thus 
addressed  him  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  sir  !  you  have  partaken  of  my  hospi- 
tality." 

"  And  paid  for  it,"  he  observed. 

**  Thank  you.  That  savors,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking 
out  his  pocket  handkerchief,  ''  of  your  old  familiar  frank- 
ness. You  have  paid  for  it.  I  was  about  to  make  the 
remark.  You  have  deceived  me,  sir.  Thank  you  again.  I  am 
glad  of  it.  To  see  you  in  the  possession  of  your  health  and 
faculties  on  any  terms,  is,  in  itself,  a  sufficient  recompense. 
To  have  been  deceived,  implies  a  trusting  nature.  Mine  is 
a  trusting  nature.  I  am  thankful  for  it.  I  would  rather 
have  a  trusting  nature,  do  you  know,  sir,  than  a  doubting 
one  !  " 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  sad  smile,  bowed,  and  wiped 
his  eyes. 

"  There  is  hardly  any  person  present,  Mr,  Chuzzlewit," 
said  Pecksniff,  "  by  whom  I  have  nof  been  deceived.  I  have 
forgiven  those  persons  on  the  spot.  That  was  my  duty;  and, 
of  course,  I  have  done  it.  Whether  it  was  worthy  of  you  to 
partake  of  my  hospitality,  and  to  act  the  part  you  did  act  in 
my  house,  that,  sir,  is  a  question  which  I  leave  to  your  own 
conscience.  And  your  conscience  does  not  acquit  you.  No, 
sir,  no  !  " 

Pronouncing  these  last  words  in  a  loud  and  solemn  voice, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  was  not  so  absolutely  lost  in  his  own  fervor  as 
to  be  unmindful  of  the  expediency  of  getting  a  little  nearer 
to  the  door. 

"  I  have  been  struck  this  day,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  with 
a  walking-stick  (which  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  has 
knobs  upon  it),  on  that  delicate  and  exquisite  portion  of  the 
human  anatomy,  the  brain.  Several  blows  have  been  in- 
flicted, sir,  without  a  walking-stick,  upon  that  tender  por- 
tion of  my  frame:  my  heart.     You  have  mentioned,  sir,  my 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  803 

being  bankrupt  in  my  purse.  Yes,  sir,  I  am.  By  an  unfor- 
tunate speculation,  combined  with  treachery,  I  find  myself 
reduced  to  poverty;  at  a  time,  sir,  when  the  child  of  my 
bosom  is  widowed,  and  affliction  and  disgrace  are  in  my 
family." 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff  wiped  his  eyes  again,  and  gave  him- 
self two  or  three  little  knocks  upon  the  breast,  as  if  he  were 
answering  two  or  three  other  little  knocks  from  within,  given 
by  the  tinkling  hammer  of  his  conscience,  to  express  "  cheer 
up,  my  boy  !  " 

''  1  know  the  human  mind,  although  I  trust  it.  That  is 
my  weakness.  Do  I  not  know,  sir;  "  here  he  became  exceed- 
ingly plaintive,  and  was  observed  to  glance  toward  Tom 
Pinch;  '' that  my  misfortunes  bring  this  treatment  on  me? 
Do  I  not  know,  sir,  that  but  for  them  I  never  should  have 
heard  what  I  have  heard  to-day  ?  Do  I  not  know,  that  in  the 
silence  and  solitude  of  night,  a  little  voice  will  whisper  in 
your  ear,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, '  This  was  not  well.  This  was  not 
well,  sir  !  *  Think  of  this,  sir  (if  you  will  have  the  goodness), 
remote  from  the  impulses  of  passion,  and  apart  from  the 
specialties,  if  I  may  use  that  strong  remark,  of  prejudice. 
And  if  you  ever  contemplate  the  silent  tomb,  sir,  which  you 
will  excuse  me  for  entertaining  some  doubt  of  your  doing, 
after  the  conduct  into  which  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be 
betrayed  this  day;  if  you  ever  contemplate  the  silent  tomb, 
sir,  think  of  me.  If  you  find  yourself  approaching  to  the 
silent  tomb,  sir,  think  of  me.  If  you  should  wish  to  have 
any  thing  inscribed  upon  your  silent  tomb,  sir,  let  it  be  that  I 
— ah,  my  remorseful  sir  !  that  I — the  humble  individual  who 
has  now  the  honor  of  reproaching  you,  forgave  you.  That  I 
forgave  you  when  my  injuries  were  fresh,  and  when  my  bosom 
was  newly  wrung.  It  may  be  bitterness  to  you  to  hear  it  now, 
sir,  but  you  will  live  to  seek  a  consolation  in  it.  May  you  find 
a  consolation  in  it,  when  you  vv^ant  it,  sir  !  Good  morning  !  " 

With  this  sublime  address,  Mr.  Pecksniff  departed.  But 
the  effect  of  his  departure  was  much  impaired  by  his  being 
immediately  afterward  run  against,  and  nearly  knocked  down 
by  a  monstrously-excited  little  man  in  velveteen  shorts  and 
a  very  tall  hat  ;  who  came  bursting  up  the  stairs,  and  straight 
into  the  chambers  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  if  he  were  de- 
ranged. 

'*  Is  there  any  body  here  that  knows  him  ?  "  cried  the  little 
man.  "  Is  there  any  body  here  that  knows  him  ?  Oh,  my 
stars,  is  there  any  body  here  that  knows  him  !  " 


8o4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  an  explanation  ;  but  nobody 
knew  any  thing  more  than  that  here  was  an  excited  little 
man  with  a  very  tall  hat  on,  running  in  and  out  of  the  room 
as  hard  as  he  could  go  ;  making  his  single  pair  of  bright  blue 
stockings  appear  at  least  a  dozen  ;  and  constantly  repeating 
in  a  shrill  voice,  "  Is  there  any  body  here  that  knows  him  ?" 
''  If  your  brains  is  not  turned  topjy  turjey,  Mr.  Sweedle- 
pipes  !  "  exclaimed  another  voice,  "  hold  that  there  nige  of 
yourn,  I  beg  you,  sir." 

At  the  same  time  Mrs.  Gamp  was  seen  in  the  doorway  ; 
out  of  breath  from  coming  up  so  many  stairs,  and  panting 
fearfully,  but  dropping  courtesies  to  the  last.  ^ 

"  Excuge  the  weakness  of  the  man,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
eying  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  with  great  indignation  ;  **  and  well 
I  might  expect  it,  as  I  should  have  know'd,  and  wishin' 
he  was  drownded  in  the  Thames  afore  I  had  brought 
him  here,  which  not  a  blessed  hour  ago  he  nearly  shaved 
the  noge  off  from  the  father  of  as  lovely  a  family  as  ever, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  was  born  three  sets  of  twins,  and  would 
have  done  it,  only  he  see  it  a  goin'  in  the  glass,  and  dodged 
the  rager.  And  never,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,  I  do  assure  you, 
sir,  did  I  so  well  know  what  a  misfortun'  it  was  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  you,  as  now  I  do,  which  so  I  say,  sir,  and  I 
don't  deceive  you  !  " 

"I  ask  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen  all,"  cried  the 
little  barber,  taking  off  his  hat,  ^'  and  yours  too,  Mrs.  Gamp. 
But — but,"  he  added  this,  half-laughing  and  half-crying,  "  is 
there  any  body  here  that  knows  him  !  " 

As  the  barber  said  these  words,  a  something  in  top-boots, 
with  its  head  bandaged  up,  staggered  into  the  room,  and 
began  going  round  and  round,  and  round,  apparently  under 
the  impression  that  it  was  walking  straight  forward. 

^'  Look  at  him  !  "  cried  the  excited  little  barber.  "  Here 
he  is  !  That'll  soon  wear  off,  and  then  he'll  be  all  right 
again.  He's  no  more  dead  than  I  am.  He's  all  alive  and 
hearty.     Ain't  you,  Bailey  ?  "  * 

"  R — r — reether  so.  Poll  !  "  replied  that  gentleman. 
**  Look  here  !  "  cried  the  little  barber,  laughing  and  cry- 
ing in  the  same  breath.  ''When  I  steady  him  he  comes  all 
right.  There  !  He's  all  right  now.  Nothing's  the  matter 
with  him  now,  except  that  he's  a  little  shook  and  rather 
giddy  ;  is  there,  Bailey  !  " 

*'  R — r — reether  shook,  Poll — reether  so  !  "  said  Mr.  Bai- 
ley.    **  What,  my  lovely  Sairey  !     There  you  air  !  " 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  805 

"  What  a  boy  he  is  !  "  cried  the  tender-hearted  Poll, 
actually  sobbing  over  him.  "  I  never  see  sech  a  boy  !  It's 
all  his  fun.  He's  full  of  it.  He  shall  go  into  the  business 
along  with  me.  I  am  determined  he  shall.  We'll  make  it 
Sweedlepipe  and  Bailey.  He  shall  have  the  sporting  branch 
(what  a  one  he'll  be  for  the  matches  !)  and  me  the  shaving. 
I'll  make  over  the  birds  to  him  as  soon  as  ever  he's  well 
enough.  He  shall  have  the  little  bullfinch  in  the  shop,  and 
all.  He's  sech  a  boy  !  I  ask  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, but  I  thought  there  might  be  some  one  here  that 
know'd  him  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  observed,  not  without  jealousy  and  scorn, 
that  a  favorable  impression  appeared  to  exist  in  behalf  of 
Mr.  Sweedlepipe  and  his  young  friend  ;  and  that  she  had 
fallen  rather  into  the  background  in  consequence.  She  now 
struggled  to  the  front,  therefore,  and  stated  her  business. 

''Which,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  she  said,  ''is  well  beknown  to 
Mrs.  Harris  as  has  one  sweet  infant  (though  she  do  not  wish 
it  known)  in  her  own  family  by  the  mother's  side,  kep  in 
spirits  in  a  bottle  ;  and  that  sweet  babe  she  see  at  Green- 
wich fair,  a  traveling  in  company  with  the  pink-eyed  lady, 
Prooshan  dwarf,  and  livin'  skeleton,  which  judge  her  feelins 
when  the  barrel  organ  played,  and  she  was  showed  her  own 
dear  sister's  child,  the  same  not  bein'  expected  from  the  out- 
side picter,  where  it  was  painted  quite  contrary  in  a  livin' 
state,  a  many  sizes  larger,  and  performing  beautiful  upon  the 
arp,  which  never  did  that  dear  child  know  or  do  ;  since 
breathe  it  never  did,  to  speak  on,  in  this  wale  !  And  Mrs. 
Harris,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  has  knowed  me  many  years,  and  can 
give  you  information  that  the  lady  which  is  widdered  can't 
do  better  and  may  do  worse,  than  let  me  wait  upon  her, 
which  I  hope  to  do.  Permittin'  the  sweet  faces  as  I  see 
afore  me." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "Is  that  your  business  ? 
Was  this  good  person  paid  for  the  trouble  we  gave  her  ?  " 

"I  paid  her,  sir,"  returned  Mark  Tapley;  "  liberal." 

"  The  young  man's  words  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and 
thank  you  kindly." 

"  Then  here  we  will  close  our  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Gamp," 
retorted  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  And  Mr.  Sweedlepipe — is  that 
your  name  ? " 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  replied  Poll,  accepting  with  a 
profusion  of  gratitude,  some  chmking  pieces  which  the  old 
man  slipped  into  his  hand. 


5o6  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

"  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  take  as  much  care  of  your  lady-lodger 
as  you  can,  and  give  her  a  word  or  two  of  good  advice  now 
and  then.  Such,'  said  old  Martin,  looking  gravely  at  the 
astonished  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  as  hinting  at  the  expediency  of  a 
little  less  liquor,  and  a  little  more  humanity,  and  a  little  less 
regard  for  herself,  and  a  little  more  regard  for  her  patients, 
and  perhaps  a  trifle  of  additional  honesty.  Or  when  Mrs. 
Gamp  gets,  into  trouble,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  it  had  better  not 
be  at  a  time  when  I  am  near  enough  to  the  Old  Bailey,  to 
volunteer  myself  as  a  witness  to  her  character.  Endeavor  to 
impress  that  upon  her  at  your  leisure,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Gamp  clasped  her  hands,  turned  up  her  eyes  until 
they  were  quite  invisible,  threw  back  her  bonnet  for  the 
admission  of  fresh  air  to  her  heated  brow;  and  in  the  act  of 
saying  faintly — "  Less  liquor  ! — Sairey  Gamp — bottle  on  the 
chimney-piece,  and  let  me  put  my  lips  to  it,  when  I  am  so 
dispoged  !" — fell  into  one  of  the  walking  swoons;  in  which 
pitiable  state  she  was  conducted  forth  by  Mr.  Sweedlepipe, 
who,  between  his  two  patients,  the  swooning  Mrs.  Gamp 
and  the  revolving  Bailey,  had  enough  to  do,  poor  fellow. 

The  old  man  looked  about  him,  with  a  smile,  until  his  eyes 
rested  on  Tom    Pinch's  sister;   when   he  smiled   the  more. 

"  We  will  all  dine  here  together,"  he  said:  "  and  as  you 
and  Mary  have  enough  to  talk  of,  Martin,  you  shall  keep 
house  for  us  until  the  afternoon,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tapley. 
I  must  see  your  lodgings  in  the  meanwhile,  Tom." 

Tom  was  quite  delighted.  So  was  Ruth.  She  would  go 
with  them. 

"  Thank  you,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  *'  But  I  am 
afraid  I  must  take  Tom  a  little  out  of  the  way,  on  business. 
Suppose  you  go  on  first,  my  dear  ?  " 

Pretty  little  Ruth  was  equally  delighted  to  do  that. 

''  But  not  alone,"  said  Martin, ''  not  alone.  Mr.  Westlock, 
I  dare  say,  will  escort  you." 

Why,  of  course  he  would  :  what  else  had  Mr.  Westlock  in 
his  mind  ?     How  dull  these  old  men  are  ! 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  no  engagement  ?"  he    persisted. 

Engagement  !  As  if  he  could  have  any  engagement ! 

So  they  went  off  arm  in  arm.  When  Tom  and  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit went  off  arm  in  arm  a  few  minutes  after  them,  the 
latter  was  still  smiling:  and  really,  for  a  gentleman  of  his 
habits,  in  rather  a  knowing  manner. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  go.7 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

WHAT  JOHN  WESTLOCK  SAID  TO  TOM  PINCh's  SISTER;  WHAT 
TOM  pinch's  SISTER  SAID  TO  JOHN  WESTLOCK;  WHAT  TOM 
PINCH  SAID  TO  BOTH  OF  THEM;  AND  HOW  THEY  ALL 
PASSED    THE    REMAINDER  OF    THE    DAY. 

Brilliantly  the  Temple  fountain  sparkled  in  the  sun, 
and  laughingly  its  liquid  music  played,  and  merrily  the  idle 
drops  of  water  danced  and  danced,  and  peeping  out  in  sport 
among  the  trees,  plunged  lightly  down  to  hide  themselves,  as 
little  Ruth  and  her  companion  came  toward  it. 

And  why  they  came  toward  the  fountain  at  all  is  a 
mystery;  for  they  had  no  business  there.  It  was  not  in  their 
way.  It  was  quite  out  of  their  way.  They  had  no  more 
to  do  with  the  fountain,  bless  you,  than  they  had  with — with 
love,  or  any  out  of  the  way  thing  of  that  sort. 

It  was  all  very  well  for  Tom  and  his  sister  to  make  ap- 
pointments by  the  fountain,  but  that  was  quite  another  affair. 
Because,  of  course,  when  she  had  to  wait  a  minute  or  two,  it 
would  have  been  very  awkward  for  her  to  have  had  to  wait  in 
any  but  a  tolerably  quiet  spot;  and  that  was  as  quiet  a  spot 
every  thing  considered,  as  they  could  choose.  But  when  she 
had  John  Westlock  to  take  care  of  her,  and  was  going  home 
with  her  arm  in  his  (home  being  in  a  different  direction  al- 
together), their  coming  anywhere  near  that  fountain,  was 
quite  extraordinary. 

However,  there  they  found  themselves.  And  another  ex- 
traordinary part  of  the  matter  was,  that  they  seemed  to  have 
come  there,  by  a  silent  understanding.  Yet  when  they  got 
there,  they  were  a  little  confused  by  being  there,  which  was 
the  strangest  part  of  all ;  because  there  is  nothing  naturally 
confusing  in  a  fountain.     We  all  know  that. 

What  a  good  old  place  it  was  !  John  said.  With  quite  an 
earnest  affection  for  it. 

'*  A  pleasant  place  indeed,"  said  little  PvUth.  "  So  shady  !  " 
Oh  wicked  little  Ruth  ! 

They  came  to  a  stop  when  John  began  to  praise  it.  The 
day  was  exquisite  ;  and  stopping  at  all,  it  was  quite  natural 
— nothing  could  be  more  so — that  they  should  glance  down 
Garden  Court  ;  because  Garden  Court  ends  in  the  garden, 
and  the  Garden  ends  in  the  river,  and  that  glimpse  is  very 
bright  and  fresh  and  shining  on  a  summer's  day.     Then,  oh. 


8o8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

little  Ruth,  why  not  look  boldly  at  it  !  Why  fit  that  tiny,  pre- 
cious, blessed  little  foot  into  the  cracked  corner  of  an  insen- 
sible old  flag-stone  in  the  pavement ;  and  be  so  very  anxious 
to  adjust  it  to  a  nicety  ! 

If  the  fiery-faced  matron  in  the  crunched  bonnet  could 
have  seen  them  as  they  walked  away,  how  many  years'  pur- 
chase might  Fiery  Face  have  been  disposed  to  take  for 
her  situation  in  Furnival's  Inn  as  laundress  to  Mr.  West- 
lock ! 

They  went  away,  but  not  through  London's  streets ! 
Through  some  enchanted  city,  where  the  pavements  were  of 
air  ;  where  all  the  rough  sounds  of  a  stirring  town  were 
softened  into  gentle  music  :  where  every  thing  was  happy  ; 
where  there  was  no  distance,  and  no  time.  There  were  two 
good-tempered  burly  draymen  letting  down  big  butts  of  beer 
into  a  cellar,  somewhere  ;  and  when  John  helped  her — 
almost  lifted  her — the  lightest,  easiest,  neatest  thing  you  ever 
saw — across  the  rope,  they  said  he  owed  them  a  good  turn 
for  giving  him  the  chance.     Celestial  draymen  ! 

Green  pastures  in  the  summer  tide,  deep-littered  straw- 
yards  in  the  winter,  no  stint  of  corn  and  clover,  ever,  to  that 
noble  horse  who  ivould  dance  on  the  pavement  with  a  gig 
behind  him,  and  who  frightened  her,  and  made  her  clasp  his 
arm  with  both  hands  (both  hands  :  meeting  one  upon  the 
other,  so  endearingly  !  ),  and  caused  her  to  implore  him  to 
take  refuge  in  the  pastry-cook's  ;  and  afterward  to  peep  out 
at  the  door  so  shrinkingly ;  and  then :  looking  at  him  with  those 
eyes  :  to  ask  him  was  he  sure — now  was  he  sure — they  might 
go  safely  on  !  Oh  for  a  string  of  rampant  horses  !  For  a 
lion,  for  a  bear,  a  mad  bull,  for  any  thing  to  bring  the  lit- 
tle hands  together  on  his  arm,  again  ! 

They  talked,  of  course.  They  talked  of  Tom,  and  all 
these  changes,  and  the  attachment  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  con- 
ceived for  him,  and  the  bright  prospects  he  had  in  such  a 
friend,  and  a  great  deal  more  to  the  same  purpose.  The 
more  they  talked,  the  more  afraid  this  fluttering  little  Ruth 
became  of  any  pause  ;  and  sooner  than  have  a  pause  she 
would  say  the  same  things  over  again  ;  and  if  she  hadn't 
courage  or  presence  of  mind  enough  for  that  (to  say  the  truth 
she  very  seldom  had),  she  was  ten  thousand  times  more  charm- 
ing and  irresistible  than  she  had  been  before. 

"Martin  will  be  married  very  soon  now,  I  suppose?" 
said  John, 

She  supposed  he  would.     Never  did  a  bewitching  little 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  ^09 

woman  suppose  any  thing  in  such  a  faint  voice  as  Ruth  sup- 
posed that. 

But  feehng  that  another  of  those  alarming  pauses  was 
approaching,  she  remarked  that  he  would  have  a  beautiful 
wife.     Didn't  Mr.  Westlock  think  so  ? 

•'  Ye— yes,"  said  John  ;  ''  oh,  yes." 

She  feared  he  was  rather  hard  to  please — he  spoke  so 
coldly. 

"  Rather  say  already  pleased,"  said  John.  "  I  have  scarcely 
seen  her.  I  had  no  care  to  see  her.  I  had  no  eyes  for  /ler^ 
this  morning." 

Oh,  good  gracious  ! 

It  was  well  they  had  reached  their  destination.  She  never 
could  have  gone  any  further.  It  would  have  been  impossible 
to  walk  in  such  a  tremble, 

Tom  had  not  come  in.  They  entered  the  triangular  parlor 
together,  and  alone.  Fiery  Face,  Fiery  Face,  how  many 
years'  purchase  now  ! 

She  sat  down  on  the  little  sofa,  and  untied  her  bonnet- 
strings.  He  sat  down  by  her  side,  and  very  near  her  :  very, 
very  near  her.  Oh,  rapid,  swelling,  bursting  little  heart,  you 
knew  that  it  would  come  to  this,  and  hoped  it  would.  Why 
beat  so  wildly,  heart  ! 

"  Dear  Ruth  !  Sweet  Ruth  !  If  I  had  loved  you  less,  I 
could  have  told  you  that  I  loved  you,  long  ago.  I  have  loved 
you  from  the  first.  There  never  was  a  creature  in  the  world 
more  truly  loved  than  you,  dear  Ruth,  by  me  ! " 

She  clasped  her  little  hands  before  her  face.  The  gush- 
ing tears  of  joy,  and  pride,  and  hope,  and  innocent  affection, 
would  not  be  restrained.  Fresh  from  her  full  young  heart 
they  came  to  answer  him. 

"  My  dear  love  !  If  this  is — I  almost  dare  to  hope  it  is, 
now — not  painful  or  distressing  to  you,  you  make  me  hap- 
pier than  I  can  tell,  or  you  imagine.  Darling  Ruth  !  My 
own  good,  gentle,  winning  Ruth  !  I  hope  I  know  the  value 
of  yoar  heart,  I  hope  I  know  the  worth  of  your  angel  nature. 
Let  me  try  and  show  you  that  I  do  ;  and  you  will  make  me 
happier,  Ruth " 

'*  Not  happier,"  she  sobbed,  "  than  you  make  me.  No 
one  can  be  happier,  John,  than  you  make  me  ! " 

Fiery  Face,  provide  yourself  !  The  usual  wage  or  the 
usual  warning.  It's  all  over,  Fiery  Face.  We  needn't  trou- 
ble you  any  further. 

The   little   hands   could  meet  each  other  now,  without  a 


8.0  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

rampart  horse  to  urge  them.  There  was  no  occasion  for 
lions,  bears,  or  mad  bulls.  It  could  all  be  done,  and  infin- 
itely better,  without  their  assistance.  No  burly  draymen  or 
big  butts  of  beer,  were  wanted  for  apologies.  No  apology 
at  all  was  wanted.  The  soft  light  touch  fell  coyly,  but 
naturally,  upon  the  lover's  shoulder;  the  delicate  waist,  the 
drooping  head,  the  blushing  cheek,  the  beautiful  eyes,  the 
exquisite  mouth  itself,  were  all  as  natural  as  possible.  If  all 
the  horses  in  Araby  had  run  away  at  once,  they  couldn't 
have  improved  upon  it. 

They  soon  began  to  talk  of  Tom  again. 
*'  I  hope  he  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  it !  "  said  John,  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

Ruth  drew  the  little  hands  a  little  tighter  when  he  said  it, 
and  looked  up  seriously  into  his  face. 

"  I  am  never  to  leave  him,  am  I,  dear  ?  I  could  never 
leave  Tom.     I  am  sure  you  know  that." 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  ask  you  1 "  he  returned  with  a — 
well  !     Never  mind  with  what. 

"  I  am  sure  you  never  would,"  she  answered,  the  bright 
tears  standing  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  I  will  swear  it,  Ruth,  my  darling,  if  you  please. 
Leave  Tom  !  That  would  be  a  strange  beginning.  Leave 
Tom,  dear  I  If  Tom  and  we  be  not  inseparable,  and  Tom 
(God  bless  him)  have  not  all  honor  and  all  love  in  our 
home,  my  little  wife,  may  that  home  never  be  !  And  that's 
a  strong  oath,  Ruth." 

Shall  it  be  recorded  how  she  thanked  him  ?  Yes,  it  shall. 
In  all  simplicity  and  innocence  and  purity  of  heart,  yet 
with  a  timid,  graceful,  half-determined  hesitation,  she  set  a 
little  rosy  seal  upon  the  vow,  whose  color  was  reflected  in 
her  face,  and  flashed  up  to  the  braiding  of  her  dark  brown 
hair. 

**Tom  will  be  so  happy,  and  so  proud,  and  glad,"  she 
said,  clasping  her  little  hands.  "  But  so  surprised  !  I  am 
sure  he  has  never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

Of  course  John  asked  her  immediately — because  you 
know  they  were  in  that  foolish  state  when  great  allowances 
must  be  made — when  she  had  begun  to  think  of  such  a  thing, 
and  this  made  a  little  diversion  in  their  talk;  a  charming  di- 
version to  them,  but  not  so  interesting  to  us;  and  at  the 
end  of  which,  they  came  back  to  Tom  again. 

"  Ah  !  dear  Tom  !  "  said  Ruth.     "  I  suppose  I  ought  to 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  5ii 

tell  you  every  thing  now.     I  should  have  no  secrets  from 
you.     Should  I,  John,  love?" 

It  is  of  no  using  saying  how  that  preposterous  John  an- 
swered her,  because  he  answered  in  a  manner  which  is  un- 
translatable on  paper,  though  highly  satisfactory  in  itself. 
But  what  he  conveyed  was,  No,  no,  no,  sweet  Ruth;  or 
something  to  that  effect. 

Then  she  told  him  Tom's  great  secret;  not  exactly  saying 
how  she  had  found  it  out,  but  leaving  him  to  understand  it 
if  he  liked;  and  John  was  sadly  grieved  to  hear  it,  and  was 
full  of  sympathy  and  sorrow.  But  they  would  try,  he  said, 
only  the  more,  on  this  account  to  make  him  happy,  and  to 
beguile  him  with  his  favorite  pursuits.  And  then,  in  all  the 
confidence  of  such  a  time,  he  told  her  how  he  had  a  capital 
opportunity  of  establishing  himself  in  his  old  profession  in 
the  country;  and  how  he  had  been  thinking,  in  the  event  of 
that  happiness  coming  upon  him  which  had  actually  come 
— there  was  another  slight  diversion  here — how  he  had  been 
thinking  that  it  would  afford  occupation  to  Tom,  and  enable 
them  to  live  together  in  the  easiest  manner,  without  any 
sense  of  dependence  on  Tom's  part:  and  to  be  as  happy  as 
the  day  was  long.  And  Ruth  receiving  this  with  joy,  they 
went  on  catering  for  Tom  to  that  extent  that  they  had  al- 
ready purchased  him  a  select  library  and  built  him  an  or- 
gan, on  which  he  was  performing  with  the  greatest  satisfac- 
tion: when  they  heard  ^im  knocking  at  the  door. 

Though  she  longed  to  tell  him  what  had  happened,  poor 
little  Ruth  was  greatly  agitated  by  his  arrival;  the  more  so 
because  she  knew  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  with  him.  So  she 
said,  all  in  a  tremble  : 

"  What  shall  I  do,  dear  John  !  I  can't  bear  that  he  should 
hear  it  from  any  one  but  me,  and  I  could  not  tell  him,  unless 
we  were  alone." 

'*  Do,  my  love,"  said  John,  "  whatever  is  natural  to 
you  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  I'm  sure  it  will  be 
right." 

He  had  hardly  time  to  say  this  much,  and  Ruth  had  hardly 
time  to — just  to  get  a  little  further  off — upon  the  sofa,  when 
Tom  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  came  in.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  came  first 
and  Tom  was  a  few  seconds  behind  him. 

Now  Ruth  had  hastily  resolved  that  she  would  beckon 
Tom  up-stairs  after  a  short  time,  and  would  tell  him  in  his 
little  bed-room.  But  when  she  saw  his  dear  old  face,  come 
in,  her  heart  was  so  touched  that  she  ran  into  his  arms,  and 


8i2  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

laid  her  head  down  on  his  breast,   and  sobbed  out,  "Bless 
me,  Tom,  my  dearest  brother  !  " 

Tom  looked  up  in  surprise  and  saw  John  Westlock  close 
beside  him,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  John  !  "  cried  Tom.     "  John  I  " 

"  Dear  Tom,"  said  his  friend,  "  give  me  your  hand.  We 
are  brothers,  Tom." 

Tom  wrung  it  with  all  his  force,  embracing  his  sister  fer- 
vently, and  put  her  in  John  Westlock's  arms. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,  John.  Heaven  is  very  good  to  us. 
I — "  Tom  could  find  no  further  utterance,  but  left  the  room; 
and  Ruth  went  after  him. 

And  when  they  came  back,  which  they  did  by  and  by,  she 
looked  more  beautiful,  and  Tom  more  good  and  true  (if  that 
v/ere  possible)  than  ever.  And  though  Tom  could  not  speak 
upon  the  subject  even  now,  being  yet  too  newly  glad,  he  put 
both  his  hands  in  both  of  John's  with  emphasis  sufficient  for 
the  best  speech  ever  spoken. 

*'  I  am  glad  you  chose  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to 
John,  with  the  same  knowing  smile  as  when  they  had  left 
him.  '*  I  thought  you  would.  I  hope  Tom  and  I  lingered 
behind  a  discreet  time.  It's  so  long  since  I  had  any  practi- 
cal knowledge  of  these  subjects,  that  I  have  been  anxious,  I 
assure  you." 

*'  Your  knowledge  is  still  pretty  accurate,  sir,"  returned 
John,  laughing,  "  if  it  led  you  to  foresee  what  would  happen 
to-day." 

"  Why,  I  am  not  sure,  Mr.  Westlock,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  that  any  great  spirit  of  prophecy  vv^as  needed,  after  seeing 
you  and  Ruth 'together.  Come  hither,  pretty  one.  See  what 
Tom  and  I  purchased  this  morning,  while  you  were  dealing 
in  exchange  with  that  young  merchant  there." 

The  old  man's  way  of  seating  her  beside  him,  and  humor- 
ing his  voice  as  if  she  were  a  child,  was  whimsical  enough, 
but  full  of  tenderness,  and  not  ill  adapted,  somehow,  to  little 
Ruth. 

"  See  here  !  "  he  said,  taking  a  case  from  his  pocket,  "  what 
a  beautiful  necklace.  Ah  !  How  it  glitters  !  Ear-rings,  too, 
and  bracelets,  and  a  zone  for  your  waist.  This  set  is  yours, 
and  Mary  has  another  like  it.  Tom  couldn't  understand  why 
I  wanted  two.  What  a  short-sighted  Tom  !  Ear-rings  and 
bracelets,  and  a  zone  for  your  waist  !  Ah  !  beautiful  !  Let 
us  see  how  brave  they  look.  Ask  Mr.  Westlock  to  clasp 
them  on." 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  813 

It  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see  her  holding  out  her  round 
white  arm;  and  John  (oh  deep,  deep  John!)  pretending  that 
the  bracelet  was  very  hard  to  fasten;  it  was  the  prettiest 
thing  to  see  her  girding  on  the  precious  little  zone,  and 
yet  obliged  to  have  assistance  because  her  fingers  were 
in  such  a  terrible  perplexity;  it  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see 
her  so  confused  and  bashful,  with  the  smiles  and  blushes 
playing  brightly  on  her  face,  like  the  sparkling  light  upon 
the  jewels;  it  was  the  prettiest  thing  that  you  would 
see,  in  the  common  experiences  of  a  twelvemonth,  rely 
upon  it. 

"  The  set  of  jewels  and  the  wearer  are  so  well  matched,  " 
said  the  old  man,  "  that  I  don't  know  which  becomes  the 
other  most.  Mr.  Westlock  could  tell  me,  I  have  no  doubt, 
but  I'll  not  ask  him,  for  he  is  bribed.  Health  to  wear  them, 
my  dear,  and  happiness  to  make  you  forgetful  of  them,  except 
as  a  remembrance  from  a  loving  friend  !  " 

He  patted  her  upon  the  cheek  and  said  to  Tom: 

"  I  must  play  the  part  of  a  father  here,  Tom,  also.  There 
are  not  many  fathers  who  marry  two  such  daughters  on 
the  same  day;  but  we  will  overlook  the  improbability  for  the 
gratification  of  an  old  man's  fancy.  I  may  claim  that 
much  indulgence,"  he  added,  ''  for  I  have  gratified  few  fancies 
enough  in  my  life  tending  to  the  happiness  of  others.  Heaven 
knows ! " 

These  various  proceedings  had  occupied  so  much  time, 
and  they  fell  into  such  a  pleasant  conversation  now,  that  it 
was  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  time  appointed  for  din- 
ner before  any  of  them  thought  about  it.  A  hackney-coach 
soon  carried  them  to  the  Temple,  however,  and  there  they 
found  every  thing  prepared  for  their  reception. 

Mr.  Tapley  having  been  furnished  with  unlimited  creden- 
tials relative  to  the  ordering  of  dinner,  had  so  exerted  himself 
for  the  honor  of  the  party,  that  a  prodigious  banquet  was 
served,  under  the  joint  direction  of  himself  and  his  intended. 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  would  have  had  them  of  the  party,  and  Martin 
urgently  seconded  his  wish,  but  Mark  could  by  no  means  be 
persuaded  to  sit  down  at  table;  observing,  that  in  having  the 
honor  of  attending  to  their  comforts,  he  felt  himself,  indeed, 
the  landlord  of  the  Jolly  Tapley,  and  could  almost  delude 
himself  into  the  belief  that  the  entertainment  was  actually 
being  held  under  the  Jolly  Tapley's  roof. 

For  the  better  encouragement  of  himself  in  this  fable,  Mr. 
Tapley  took  it  upon  him-to  issue  divers  general  directions  to 


8i4  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

the  waiters  from  the  hotel,  relative  to  the  disposal  of  the 
dishes  and  so  forth;  and  as  they  were  usually  in  direct  oppo- 
sition to  all  precedent,  and  were  always  issued  in  his  most 
facetious  form  of  thought  and  speech,  they  occasioned  great 
merriment  among  those  attendants;  in  which  Mr.  Tapley 
participated,  with  an  infinite  enjoyment  of  his  own  humor. 
He  likewise  entertained  them  with  short  anecdotes  of  his 
travels,  appropriate  to  the  occasion;  and  now  and  then  with 
some  comic  passage  or  other  between  himself  and  Mrs.  Lu- 
pin; so  that  explosive  laughs  were  constantly  issuing  from 
the  side-board,  and  from  the  backs  of  chairs;  and  the  head- 
waiter  (who  wore  powder,  and  knee-smalls,  and  was  usually 
a  grave  man)  got  to  be  a  bright  scarlet  in  the  face,  and  broke 
his  waistcoat-strings,  audibly. 

Young  Martin  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  Tom  Pinch 
at  the  foot;  and  if  there  were  a  genial  face  at  that  board,  it 
was  Tom's.  They  all  took  their  tone  from  Tom.  Everybody 
drank  to  him,  every  body  looked  at  him,  every  body  thought 
of  him,  every  body  loved  him.  If  he  so  much  as  laid  down 
his  knife  and  fork,  somebody  put  out  a  hand  to  shake  with 
him.  Martin  and  Mary  had  taken  him  aside  before  dinner, 
and  spoken  to  him  so  heartily  of  the  time  to  come,  laying 
such  fervent  stress  upon  the  trust  they  had  in  his  completion 
of  their  felicity,  by  his  society  and  closest  friendship,  that 
Tom  was  positively  moved  to  tears.  He  couldn't  bear  it. 
His  heart  was  full,  he  said,  of  happiness.  And  so  it  was. 
Tom  spoke  the  honest  truth.  It  was.  Large  as  thy  heart 
was,  dear  Tom  Pinch,  it  had  no  room  that  day,  for  any  thing 
but  happiness  and  sympathy! 

And  there  was  Tips,  old  Fips  of  Austin  Friars,  present  at 
the  dinner,  and  turning  out  to  be  the  jolliest  old  dog  that 
ever  did  violence  to  his  convivial  sentiments  by  shutting  him- 
self up  in  a  dark  office.  *'  Where  is  he  ?  "  said  Fips,  when  he 
came  in.  And  then  he  pounced  on  Tom,  and  told  him  that 
he  wanted  to  relieve  himself  of  all  his  old  constraint;  and  in 
the  first  place  shook  him  by  one  hand,  and  in  the  second 
place  shook  him  by  the  other,  and  in  the  third  place  nudged 
him  in  the  waistcoat,  and  in  the  fourth  place,  said  '*  How  are 
you  ?  "  and  in  a  great  many  other  places  did  a  great  many 
other  things  to  show  his  friendliness  and  joy.  And  he  sang 
songs,  did  Fips;  and  made  speeches,  did  Fips;  and  knocked  off 
his  wine  pretty  handsomely,  did  Fips;  and,  in  short,  he  showed 
himself  a  perfect  trump,  did  Fips,  in  all  respects. 

But  ah!  the  happiness  of  strolling  home  at  night — obsti- 


Martin  chuzzlewit.  815 

nate  little  Ruth,  she  wouldn't  hear  of  riding! — as  they  had 
done  on  that  dear  night,  from  Furnival's  Inn  !  The  happi- 
ness of  being  able  to  talk  about  it,  and  to  confide  their  hap- 
piness to  each  other!  The  happiness  of  stating  all  their  little 
plans  to  Tom,  and  seeing  his  bright  face  grow  brighter  as 
they  spoke  ! 

When  they  reached  home,  Tom  left  John  and  his  sister  in 
the  parlor,  and  went  up  stairs  into  his  own  room,  under  pre- 
tense of  seeking  a  book.  And  Tom  actually  winked  to  him- 
self, when  he  got  up  stairs,  he  thought  it  such  a  deep  thin^_ 
thing  to  have  done. 

"  They  like  to  be  by  themselves,  of  course,"  said  Tom; 
^'  and  I  came  away  so  naturally,  that  I  have  no  doubt  they 
are  expecting  me,  every  moment  to  return.  That's  capital  !" 

But  he  had  not  sat  reading  very  long,  when  he  heard  a  tap 
at  his  door. 

'*  May  I  come  in  ? "  said  John. 

*'  Oh,  surely  !  "  Tom  replied. 

"  Don't  leave  us,  Tom.  Don't  sit  by  yourself.  We  want 
to  make  you  merry;  not  melancholy." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Tom,  with  a  cheerful  smile. 

"  Brother,  Tom.     Brother." 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  Tom;  ''there  is  no  danger  of 
my  being  melancholy,  how  can  I  be  melancholy,  when  I  know 
that  you  and  Ruth  are  so  blest  in  each  other  !  I  think  I  can 
find  my  tongue  to-night,  John,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
pause.  "  But  I  never  can  tell  you  what  unutterable  joy  this 
day  has  given  me.  It  would  be  unjust  to  you  to  speak  of  your 
having  chosen  a  portionless  girl,  for  I  feel  that  you  know 
her  worth  ;  I  am  sure  you  know  her  worth.  Nor  will  it 
diminish  in  your  estimation,  John,  which  money  might." 

"  Which  money  would,  Tom,"  he  returned.  "  Her  worth  ! 
Oh,  who  could  see  her  here,  and  not  love  her  !  Who  could 
know  her,  Tom,  and  not  honor  her  !  Who  could  ever  stand 
possessed  of  such  a  heart  as  hers,  and  grow  indifferent  to  the 
treasure  I  Who  could  feel  the  rapture  that  I  feel  to-day, 
and  love  as  I  love  her,  Tom,  without  knowing  something  of 
her  worth  ?  Your  joy  unutterable  !  No,  no,  Tom.  It's  mine, 
it's  mine." 

"  No,  no,  John,"  said  Tom.     "  It's  mine,  it's  mine." 

Their  friendly  contention  was  brought  to  a  close  by  little 
Ruth  herself,  who  came  peeping  in  at  the  door.  And  oh, 
the  look,  the  glorious,  half-proud,  half-timid  look  she  gave 
Tom,  when  her  lover  drew  her  to  his  side  !    As  much  as  to 


5i6     .  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  ' 

say,  "  Yes  indeed,  Tom,  he  will  do  it.  But  then  he  has  a 
right,  you  know.     Because  I  am  fond  of  him,  Tom." 

As  to  Tom,  he  was  perfectly  delighted.  He  could  have 
sat  and  looked  at  them,  just  as  they  were,  for  hours. 

"  I  have  told  Tom,  love,  as  we  agreed,  that  we  are  not 
going  to  permit  him  to  run  away,  and  that  we  can  not  possibly 
allow  it.  The  loss  of  one  person,  and  such  a  person  as  Tom, 
too,  out  of  our  small  household  of  three,  is  not  to  be  endured; 
and  so  I  have  told  him.  Whether  he  is  considerate,  or 
whether  he  is  only  selfish,  I  don't  know.  But  he  needn't 
be  considerate,  for  he  is  not  the  least  restraint  upon  us.  Is 
he,  dearest  Ruth  ?  " 

Well !  He  really  did  not  seem  to  be  any  particular 
restraint  upon  them.     Judging  from  what  ensued. 

Was  it  folly  in  Tom  to  be  so  pleased  by  their  remembrance 
of  him,  at  such  a  time  ?  Was  their  graceful  love  a  folly,  were 
their  dear  caresses  follies,  was  their  lengthed  parting  folly  ? 
Was  it  folly  in  him  to  watch  her  window  from  the  street, 
and  rate  its  scantiest  gleam  of  light  above  all  diamonds  : 
folly  in  her  to  breathe  his  name  upon  her  knees,  and  pour 
out  her  pure  heart  before  that  Being,  from  whom  such  hearts 
and  such  affections  come  ? 

If  these  be  follies,  then  Fiery  Face  go  on  and  prosper  !  It 
they  be  not,  then  Fiery  Face  avaunt  !  But  set  the  crunched 
bonnet  at  some  other  single  gentleman,  in  any  case,  for  one 
is  lost  to  thee  forever  ! 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

GIVES   THE    AUTHOR   GREAT    CONCERN.       FOR    IT    IS    THE    LAST 

IN    THE    BOOR. 

Todgers's  was  in  high  feather,  and  mighty  preparations 
for  a  late  breakfast  were  astir  in  its  commercial  bowers. 
The  blissful  morning  had  arrived  when  Miss  Pecksniff  was 
to  be  united,  in  holy  matrimony,  to  Augustus. 

Miss  Pecksniff  was  in  a  frame  of  mind,  equally  becoming 
to  herself  and  the  occasion.  She  was  full  of  clemency  and 
conciliation.  She  had  laid  in  several  chaldrons  of  live  coals, 
and  was  prepared  to  heap  them  on  the  heads  of  her  enemies. 
She  bore  no  spite  nor  malice  in  her  heart.     Not  the  least. 

Quarrels,  Miss  Pecksniff  said,  were  dreadful  things  in 
families  ;.a,nd,.thougl)  she  never  could  forgive  her  dear  papa,_ 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  817 

she  was  willing  to  receive  her  other  relations.  They  had 
been  separated,  she  observed,  too  long.  It  was  enough  to 
call  down  a  judgment  upon  the  family.  She  believed  the 
death  of  Jonas  a'^x  a  judgment  on  them  for  their  internal 
dissensions.  And  Miss  Pecksniff  was  confirmed  in  this 
belief,  by  the  lightness  with  which  the  visitation  had  fallen 
on  herself. 

By  way  of  doing  sacrifice — not  in  triumph  ;  not,  of 
course,  in  triumph,  but  in  humiliation  of  spirit — this  amiable 
young  person  wrote,  therefore,  to  her  kinswoman  of  the 
strong  mind,  and  informed  her,  that  her  nuptials  would  take 
place  on  such  a  day.  That  she  had  been  much  hurt  by  the 
unnatural  conduct  of  herself  and  daughters,  and  hoped 
they  might  not  have  suffered  in  their  consciences.  That 
being  desirous  to  forgive  her  enemies,  and  make  her  peace 
with  the  world  before  entering  into  the  most  solemn  of 
covenants  with  the  most  devoted  of  men,  she  now  held  out 
the  hand  of  friendship.  That  if  the  strong-minded  woman 
took  that  hand,  in  the  temper  in  which  it  was  extended  to 
her,  she.  Miss  Pecksniff,  did  invite  her  to  be  present  at  the 
ceremony  of  her  marriage,  and  did  furthermore  invite  the 
three  red-nosed  spinsters,  her  daughters  (but  Miss  Pecksniff 
did  not  particularize  their  noses)  to  attend  as  brides- 
maids. 

The  strong-minded  woman  returned  for  answer,  that  her- 
self and  daughters  were,  as  regarded  their  consciences,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  robust  health,  which  she  knew  Miss  Pecksniff 
would  be  glad  to  hear.  That  she  had  received  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's note  with  unalloyed  delight,  because  she  never  had 
attached  the  least  importance  to  the  paltry  and  insignificant 
jealousies  with  which  herself  and  circle  had  been  assailed  ; 
otherwise  than  as  she  found  them,  in  the  contemplation, 
a  harmless  source  of  innocent  mirth.  That  she  would  joy- 
fully attend  Miss  Pecksniff's  bridal  ;  and  that  her  three  dear 
daughters  would  be  happy  to  assist,  on  so  interesting,  and  so 
very  unexpected — which  the  strong-minded  woman  underlined 
— so  very  u?iexpected  an  occasion. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  gracious  reply,  Miss  Pecksniff  ex- 
tended her  forgiveness  and  her  invitations  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Spottletoe  ;  to  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  the  bachelor  cousin  ; 
to  the  solitary  female  who  usually  had  the  tooth-ache  ;  and 
to  the  hairy  young  gentleman  with  the  outline  of  a  face  ; 
surviving  remnants  of  the  party  that  had  once  assembled  in 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  parlor.  After  which  Miss  Pecksniff  remarked. 


Si8  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

that  there  was  a  sweetness  in  doing  our  duty,  which  neu- 
tralized the  bitter  in  our  cups. 

The  wedding  guests  had  not  yet  assembled,  and  indeed  it 
was  so  early  that  Miss  Pecksniff  herself  was  in  the  act  of 
dressing  at  her  leisure,  when  a  carriage  stopped  near  the 
monument  ;  and  Mark,  dismounting  from  the  rumble,  as- 
sisted Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  alight.  The  carriage  remained  in 
waiting  ;  so  did  Mr.  Tapley.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  betook  him- 
self to  Todgers's. 

He  was  shown,  by  the  degenerate  successor  of  Mr.  Bailey, 
into  the  dining-parlor  ;  where — for  his  visit  was  expected — 
Mrs.  Todgers  immediately  appeared. 

"  You  are  dressed,  I  see,  for  the  wedding,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Todgers,  who  was  greatly  flurried  by  the  prepara- 
tions, replied  in  the  affirmative. 

''  It  goes  against  my  wishes  to  have  it  in  progress  just  now, 
I  assure  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers;  "but  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's mind  was  set  upon  it,  and  it  really  is  time  that  Miss 
Pecksniff  was  married.     That  can  not  be  denied,  sir." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  assuredly  not.  Her  sister 
takes  no  part  in  the  proceedings  ?  " 

*' Oh  dear,  no,  sir.  Poor  thing!"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
shaking  her  head,  and  dropping  her  voice.  "  Since  she  has 
known  the  worst,  she  has  never  left  my  room  ;  the  next 
room." 

"  Is  she  prepared  to  see  me  ? "  he  inquired. 

"Quite  prepared,  sir." 

*'  Then  let  us  lose  no  time," 

Mrs.  Todgers  conducted  him  into  the  little  back  chamber 
commanding  the  prospect  of  the  cistern  ;  and  there,  sadly 
different  from  when  it  had  first  been  her  lodging,  sat  poor 
Merry,  in  mourning  weeds.  The  room  looked  very  dark  and 
sorrowful  ;  and  so  did  she  ;  but  she  had  one  friend  beside 
her    aithful  to  the  last.  Old  Chuffey. 

When  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  sat  down  at  her  side,  she  took  his 
hand  and  put  it  to  her  lips.  She  was  in  great  grief.  He  too 
was  agitated  ;  for  he  had  not  seen  her  since  their  parting  in 
the  church-yard. 

"  I  judged  you  hastily,"  he  said,  in  a  low  Toice.  "  I  fear  I 
judged  you  cruelly.  Let  me  know  that  I  have  your  forgive- 
ness." 

She  kissed  his  hand  again  ;  and  retaining  it  in  hers, 
thanked  him,  in  a  broken  voice,  for  all  his  kindness  to  her, 
since. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLKWIT.  819 

*'Tom  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  "  has  faithfully  related  to  me 
all  that  you  desired  him  to  convey  ;  at  a  time  when  he 
deemed  it  very  improbable  that  he  would  ever  have  an  op- 
portunity of  delivering  your  message.  Believe  mc  that  if  I 
ever  deal  again  with  an  ill-advised  and  unawakened 
nature,  hiding  the  strength  it  thinks  its  weakness,  I  will  have 
long  and  merciful  consideration  for  it." 

"  You  had  for  me  ;  even  for  me,"  she  answered.  "  I  quite 
believe  it.  I  said  the  words  you  have  repeated,  when  my 
distress  was  very  sharp  and  hard  to  bear  ;  I  say  them  now 
for  others  ;  but  I  can  not  urge  them  for  myself.  You  spoke 
to  me  after  you  had  seen  and  watched  me  day  by  day.  There 
was  great  consideration  in  that.  You  might  have  spoken, 
perhaps,  more  kindly  ;  you  might  have  tried  to  invite  my 
confidence  by  greater  gentleness  ;  but  the  end  would  have 
been  the  same." 

He  shook  his  head  in  doubt,  and  not  without  some  inward 
self-reproach. 

"  How  can  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  your  interposition 
would  have  prevailed  with  me,  when  I  know  how  obdurate  I 
was  !  I  never  thought  at  all  ;  dear  Mr,  Chuzzlewit,  I  never 
thought  at  all  ;  I  had  no  thought,  no  heart,  no  care  to  find 
one  ;  at  that  time.  It  has  grown  out  of  my  trouble.  I  have  felt 
it  in  my  trouble.  I  wouldn't  recall  my  trouble,  such  as  it  is, 
and  has  been — and  it  is  light  in  comparison  with  trials  which 
hundreds  of  good  people  suffer  every  day,  I  know — I 
wouldn't  recall  it  to-morrow,  if  I  could.  It  has  been  my 
friend,  for  without  it,  no  one  could  have  changed  me  ; 
nothing  could  have  changed  me.  Do  not  mistrust  me 
because  of  these  tears  ;  I  can  not  help  them.  I  am  grateful 
for  it,  in  my  soul.     Indeed  I  am  !  " 

"  Indeed  she  is  !  "  said  Mrs,  Todgers.     "  I  believe  it,  sir," 

"  And  so  do  I  !  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  Now,  attend  to 
me,  my  dear.  Your  late  husband's  estate,  if  not  w^asted  by 
the  confession  of  a  large  debt  to  the  broken  office  (which 
document,  being  useless  to  the  runaways,  has  been  sent  over 
to  England  by  them  :  not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  cred- 
itors as  for  the  gratification  of  their  dislike  to  him,  whom 
they  suppose  to  be  still  living),  will  be  seized  upon  by  law  ; 
for  it  is  not  exempt,  as  I  learn,  from  the  claims  of  those  who 
have  suffered  by  the  fraud  in  which  he  was  engaged.  Your 
father's  property  was  all  embarked  in  the  same  transaction. 
If  there  be  any  left,  it  will  be  seized  on,  in  like  manner. 
There  is  no  home  there'' 


S20  MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT. 

**  I  couldn't  return  to  him,"  she  said,  with  an  instinctive 
reference  to  his  having  forced  her  marriage  on.  "  1  could 
not  return  to  him  !  " 

*'  I  know  it,"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  resumed  :  "  and  I  am  here, 
because  I  know  it.  Come  with  me  !  From  all  who  are 
about  me,  you  are  certain  (I  have  ascertained  it )  of  a  gen- 
erous welcome.  But  until  your  health  is  re-established,  and 
you  are  sufficiently  composed  to  bear  that  welcome,  you 
shall  have  your  abode  in  any  quiet  retreat  of  your  own 
choosing,  near  London  ;  not  so  far  removed  but  that  this 
kind-hearted  lady  may  still  visit  you  as  often  as  she  pleases. 
You  have  suffered  much  ;  but  you  are  young,  and  have  a 
brighter  and  a  better  future  stretching  out  before  you. 
Come  with  me.  Your  sister  is  careless  of  you,  I  know. 
She  hurries  on  and  publishes  her  marriage,  in  a  spirit  which 
(to  say  no  more  of  it)  is  barely  decent,  is  unsisterly,  and 
bad.  Leave  the  house  before  her  guests  arrive.  She  means 
to  give  you  pain.  Spare  her  the  offense,  and  come  with 
me  !  " 

Mrs.  Todgers,  though  most  unwilling  to  part  with  her, 
added  her  persuasions.  Even  poor  old  Chuffey  (of  course 
included  in  the  project)  added  his.  She  hurriedly  attired 
herself,  and  was  ready  to  depart,  when  Miss  Pecksniff 
dashed  into  the  room. 

Miss  Pecksniff  dashed  in  so  suddenly,  that  she  was  placed 
in  an  embarrassing  position.  For,  though  she  had  com- 
pleted her  bridal  toilet  as  to  her  head,  on  which  she  wore 
a  bridal  bonnet  with  orange  flov/ers,  slie  had  not  completed 
it  as  to  her  skirts,  which  displayed  no  choicer  decoration 
than  a  dimity  bedgown.  She  had  dashed  in,  in  fact,  about 
half  way  through,  to  console  her  sister  in  her  affliction  with 
a  sight  of  the  aforesaid  bonnet;  and  being  quite  unconscious 
of  the  presence  of  a  visitor,  until  she  found  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
standing  face  to  face  with  her,  her  surprise  was  an  un 
comfortable  one. 

"  So,  young  lady  !  "  said  the  old  man,  eying  her  with 
strong  disfavor.     '*  You  are  to  be  married  to-day  ! " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  modestly.  "  I  am. 
I — my  dress  is  rather — really,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

"Your  delicacy,"  said  old  Martin,  "is  troubled,  I  per- 
ceive. I  am  not  surprised  to  find  it  so.  You  have  chosen 
the  period  of  your  marriage,  unfortunately." 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  retorted  Cherry  ; 
very  red   and   angry   in  a  moment  :   "  but  if  you   have   any 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  821 

thing  to  say  on  that  subject,  I  must  beg  to  refer  you  to 
Augustus.  You  will  scarcely  think  it  manly,  I  hope,  to  force 
an  argument  on  me,  when  Augustus  is  at  all  times  ready  to 
discuss  it  with  you.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  decep- 
tions that  may  have  been  practiced  on  my  parent,"  said  Miss 
Pecksniff,  pointedly  ;  "  and  as  I  wish  to  be  on  good  terms 
with  every  body  at  such  a  time,  I  should  have  been  glad  if 
you  would  have  favored  us  with  your  company  at  breakfast. 
But  I  will  not  ask  you  as  it  is,  seeing  that  you  have  been 
prepossessed  and  set  against  me  in  another  quarter.  I  hope 
I  have  my  natural  affections  for  another  quarter,  and  my 
natural  pity  for  another  quarter  ;  but  I  can  not  always  sub- 
mit to  be  subservient  to  it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  That  would  be 
a  little  too  much.  I  trust  I  have  more  respect  for  myself, 
as  well  as  for  the  man  who  claims  me  as  his  bride." 

"  Your  sister,  meeting — as  I  think,  not  as  she  says,  for 
she  has  said  nothing  about  it — with  little  consideration  from 
you,  is  going  away  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

'*  I  am  very  happy  to  find  that  she  has  some  good  fortune 
at  last,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  tossing  her  head.  **  I  con- 
gratulate her,  I  am  sure.  I  am  not  surprised  that  this  event 
should  be  painful  to  her — painful  to  her — but  I  can't  help 
that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.     It's  not  my  fault." 

*'  Come,  Miss  Pecksniff  !  "  said  the  old  man,  quietly.  "  I 
should  like  to  see  a  better  parting  between  you.  I  should 
like  to  see  a  better  parting  on  your  side,  in  such  circum- 
stances. It  would  made  me  your  friend.  You  may  want  a 
friend  one  day  or  other." 

"  Every  relation  of  life,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  begging  your 
pardon,  and  every  friend  in  life,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff 
with  dignity,  ''  is  now  bound  up  and  cemented  in  Augustus. 
So  long  as  Augustus  is  my  own,  I  can  not  want  a  friend. 
When  you  speak  of  friends,  sir,  I  must  beg,  once  for  all,  to 
refer  you  to  Augustus.  That  is  my  impression  of  the  reli- 
gious ceremony  in  which  I  am  so  soon  to  take  part  at  that  altar 
to  which  Augustus  will  conduct  me.  I  bear  no  malice  at  any 
time,  much  less  in  a  moment  of  triumph,  toward  any  one  ; 
much  less  toward  my  sister.  On  the  contrary,  I  congratu- 
late her.  If  you  didn't  hear  me  say  so,  I  am  not  to  blame. 
And  as  I  owe  it  to  Augustus  to  be  punctual  on  an  occasion 
when  he  may  naturally  be  supposed  to  be — to  be  impatient — 
really,  Mrs.  Todgers  ! — I  must  beg  your  leave,  sir,  to  retire." 

After  these  words  the  bridal  bonnet  disappeared  ;  with  as 
much  state,  as  the  dimity  bedgrown  left  in  it. 


822  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Old  Martin  gave  his  arm  to  the  younger  sister  without 
speaking,  and  led  her  out.  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  her  holiday 
garments  fluttering  in  the  wind,  accompanied  them  to  the  car- 
riage, clung  round  Merry's  neck  at  parting,  and  ran  back  to 
her  own  dingy  house,  crying  the  whole  way.  She  had  a  lean, 
lank  body,  Mrs.  Todgers,  but  a  well-conditioned  soul  within. 
Perhaps  the  Good  Samaritan  was  lean  and  lank,  and  found 
it  hard  to  live.     Who  knows  ! 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  followed  her  so  closely  with  his  eyes,  that, 
until  she  had  shut  her  own  door,  they  did  not  encounter  Mr. 
Tapley's  face. 

''  Why,  Mark  !  "  he  said,  as  soon  as  be  observed  it,  ''  what's 
the  matter  !  " 

"  The  vvonderfullest  ewent,  sir  !  "  returned  Mark,  pump- 
ing at  his  voice  in  a  most  laborious  manner,  and  hardly  able 
to  articulate  with  all  his  efforts.  "  A  coincidence  as  never 
was  equaled  !  I'm  blessed  if  here  ain't  two  old  neighbors 
of  ourn,  sir  !  " 

^'  What  neighbors  !  "  cried  old  Martin,  looking  out  of  win- 
dow.    "  Where  ? " 

*'  /  was  a  walkin'  up  and  down  not  five  yards  from  this 
spot,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  breathless,  ''and  they  come  upon  me 
like  their  own  ghosts,  as  I  thought  they  was  !  It's  the  won- 
derfulest  ewent  that  ever  happened.  Bring  a  feather,  some- 
body, and  knock  me  down  with  it  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  old  Martin,  quite  as 
much  excited  by  the  spectacle  of  Mark's  excitement,  as  that 
strange  person  was  himself.     "  Neighbors,  where  !  " 

'*  Here,  sir  !  "  replied  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Here  in  the  city  of 
London  !  Here  upon  these  very  stones  !  Here  they  are, 
sir  !  Don't  I  know  'em  ?  Lord  love  their  welcome  faces, 
don't  I  know  'em  !  " 

With  which  ejaculations  Mr.  Tapley  not  only  pointed  to  a 
decent-looking  man  and  woman  standing  by,  but  commenced 
embracing  them  alternately,  over  and  over  again,  in  Monu- 
ment Yard. 

''  Neighbors,  where  !  "  old  Martin  shouted,  almost  mad- 
dened by  his  ineffectual  efforts  to  get  out  at  the  coach- 
door. 

*'  Neighbors  in  America  !  Neighbors  in  Eden  !  "  cried 
Mark.  "  Neighbors  in  the  swamp,  neighbors  in  the  bush, 
neighbors  in  the  fever.  Didn't  she  nurse  us  !  Didn't  he 
help  us  !  Shouldn't  we  both  have  died  without  'em  ! 
Hav'n't    they  come    a    strugglin'    back,    without    a  single 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  823 

child  for  their  consolation  !  And  talk  to  me  of  neigh- 
bors !  " 

Away  he  went  again,  in  a  perfectly  wild  state,  hugging 
them,  and  skipping  round  them,  and  cutting  in  between  them, 
as  if  he  were  performing  some  frantic  and  outlandish 
dance. 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  no  sooner  gathered  Avho  these  people  were, 
than  he  burst  open  the  coach-door  somehow  or  other,  and 
came  tumbling  out  among  them  ;  and  as  if  the  lunacy  of  Mr. 
Tapley  were  contagious,  he  immediately  began  to  shake 
hands  too,  and  exhibit  every  demonstration  of  the  liveliest 
joy. 

"  Get  up  behind  !  "  he  said.  "  Get  up  in  the  rumble. 
Come  along  with  me  !  Go  you  on  the  box,  Mark.  Home  ! 
Home  !  " 

"  Home  !  "  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  seizing  the  old  man's  hand 
in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm.  "  Exactly  my  opinion,  sir.  Home, 
forever  !  Excuse  the  liberty,  sir,  I  can't  help  it.  Success 
to  the  Jolly  Tapley  !  There's  nothin'  in  the  house  they 
shan't  have  for  the  askin'  for,  except  a  bill.  Home,  to  be 
sure  !     Hurrah  !  " 

Home  they  rolled  accordingly,  when  he  had  got  the  old 
man  in  again,  as  fast  as  they  could  go  ;  Mark  abating  noth- 
ing of  his  fervor  by-the-way,  but  allowing  it  to  vent  itself  as 
unrestrainedly  as  if  he  had  been  on  Salisbury  Plain. 

And  now  the  wedding  party  began  to  assemble  at  Tod- 
gers's.  Mr.  Jinkins,  the  only  boarder  invited,  was  on  the 
ground  first.  He  wore  a  white  favor  in  his  button-hole,  and 
a  bran  new  extra  super  doubled-milled  blue  saxony  dress 
coat  (that  was  its  description  in  the  bill),  with  a  variety  of 
tortuous  embellishments  about  the  pockets,  invented  by  the 
artist  to  do  honor  to  the  day.  The  miserable  Augustus  no 
longer  felt  strongly  even  on  the  subject  of  Jinkins.  He  hadn't 
strength  of  mind  enough  to  do  it.  "  Let  him  come  !  "  he 
had  said,  in  answer  to  Miss  Pecksniff,  when  she  urged  the 
point.  "  Let  him  come  !  He  has  ever  been  my  rock  ahead 
through  life.  'Tis  meet  he  should  be  there.  Ha,  ha  !  Oh, 
yes  !  let  Jinkins  come  !  " 

Jinkins  had  come,  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life;  and  there 
he  was.  For  some  few  minutes  he  had  no  companion  but 
the  breakfast,  which  was  set  forth  in  the  drawing-room,  with 
unusual  taste  and  ceremony.  But  Mrs.  Todgers  soon  joined 
him;  and  the  bachelor-cousin,  the  hairy  young  gentleman, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  arrived  in  quick  succession. 


524  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Mr.  Spottletoe  honored  Jinkins  with  an  encouraging  bow. 
"  Glad  to  know  you,  sir,"  he  said.  ''  Give  you  joy  !  "  Under 
the  impression  that  Jinkins  was  the  happy  man. 

Mr.  Jinkins  explained.  He  was  merely  doing  the  honors 
of  his  friend  Moddle,  who  had  ceased  to  reside  in  the  house, 
and  had  not  yet  arrived. 

"  Not  arrived,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  Spottletoe,  in  a  great  heat. 

''  Not  yet,"  said  Mr.  Jinkins. 

"  Upon  my  soul  !  "  cried  Spottletoe  "  he  begins  well ! 
Upon  my  life  and  honor  this  young  man  begins  well  !  But  I 
should  very  much  like  to  know  how  it  is  that  every  one  who 
comes  into  contact  with  this  family  is  guilty  of  some  gross 
insult  to  it.  Death  !  Not  arrived  yet.  Not  here  to  receive  us  !  " 

The  nephew  with  the  outline  of  a  countenance,  suggested 
that  perhaps  he  had  ordered  a  new  pair  of  boots,  and  they 
hadn't  come  home. 

**  Don't  talk  to  me  of  boots,  sir  !  "  retorted  Spottletoe, 
with  immense  indignation.  ''  He  is  bound  to  come  here  in 
his  slippers  then;  he  is  bound  to  come  here  barefoot.  Don't 
offer  such  a  wretched  and  evasive  plea  to  me  on  behalf  of 
your  friend,  as  boots,  sir." 

''  He  is  not  my  friend,"  said  the  nephew.  *'  I  never  saw 
him." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  returned  the  fiery  Spottletoe.  "  Then 
don't  talk  to  me  !  " 

The  door  was  thrown  open  at  this  juncture,  and  Miss  Peck- 
sniff entered,  tottering,  and  supported  by  her  three  brides- 
maids. The  strong-minded  woman  brought  up  the  rear; 
having  waited  outside  until  now  for  the  purpose  of  spoiling 
the  effect. 

*'  How  do  you  do,  ma'am  !  "  said  Spottletoe  to  the  strong- 
minded  woman  in  a  tone  of  defiance.  "  I  believe  you  see 
Mrs.  Spottletoe,  ma'am?" 

The  strong-minded  woman,  with  an  air  of  great  interest  in 
Mrs,  Spottletoe's  health,  regretted  that  she  was  not  more 
easily  seen.  Nature  erring,  in  that  lady's  case,  upon  the  slim 
side. 

"  Mrs.  Spottletoe  is  at  least  more  easily  seen  than  the 
bridegroom,  ma'am,"  returned  that  lady's  husband.  ''  That 
is,  unless  he  has  confined  his  attentions  to  any  particular 
part  or  branch  of  this  family,  which  would  be  quite  in  keep- 
ing with  its  usual  proceedings." 

"  If  you  allude  to  me,  sir "  the  strong-minded  woman 

began. 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT.  825 

'*  Pray,"  interposed  Miss  Pecksniff,  **  do  not  allow  Augus- 
tus, at  this  awful  moment  of  his  life  and  mine,  to  he  the 
means  of  disturbing  that  harmony  which  it  is  ever  Augustus's 
and  my  wish  to  maintain.  Augustus  has  not  been  introduced 
to  any  of  my  relations  now  present.     He  preferred  not." 

"  Why,  then,  I  venture  to  assert,"  cried  Mr.  Spottletoe, 
"that  the  man  who  aspires  to  join  this  family,  and  'prefers 
not '  to  be  introduced  to  its  members,  is  an  impertinent 
puppy.     That's  my  opinion  of  hitn  !  " 

The  strong-minded  woman  remarked  v/ith  great  suavity, 
that  she  was  afraid  he  must  be.  Her  three  daughters 
observed  aloud  that  it  was  *'  shameful  !  " 

"  You  do  not  know  Augustus,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  tear- 
fully, ''  indeed  you  do  not  know  him.  Augustus  is  all  mild- 
ness and  humility.  Wait  'till  you  see  Augustus,  and  I  am 
sure  he  will  conciliate  your  affections." 

"The  question  arises,"  said  Spottletoe,  folding  his  arms: 
"how  long  we  are  to  wait.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  wait; 
that's  the  fact.  And  I  want  to  know  how  long  we  are 
expected  to  wait." 

"  Mrs.  Todgers  !  "  said  Charity,  "  Mr.  Jinkins  !  I  am 
afraid  there  must  be  some  mistake.  I  think  Augustus  must 
have  gone  straight  to  the  altar  !  " 

As  such  a  thing  was  possible,  and  the  church  was  close  at 
hand,  Mr.  Jinkins  ran  off  to  see:  accompanied  by  Mr.  George 
Chuzzlewit,  the  bachelor  cousin,  who  preferred  any  thing  to 
the  aggravation  of  sitting  near  the  breakfast,  without  being 
able  to  eat  it.  But  they  came  back  with  no  other  tidings 
than  a  familiar  message  from  the  clerk,  importing  that  if  they 
wanted  to  be  married  that  morning  they  had  better  look 
sharp,  as  the  curate  wasn't  going  to  wait  there  all  day. 

The  bride  was  now  alarmed  ;  seriously  alarmed.  Good 
heavens,  what  could  have  happened  !  Augustus  !  Dear 
Augustus  ! 

Mr.  Jinkins  volunteered  to  take  a  cab,  and  seek  him  at 
the  newly-furnished  house.  The  strong-minded  woman 
administered  comfort  to  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  was  a  speci- 
men of  what  she  had  to  expect.  It  would  do  her  good.  It 
would  dispel  the  romance  of  the  affair."  The  red-nosed 
daughters  also  administered  the  kindest  comfort.  "  Perhaps 
he'd  come,"  they  said.  The  sketchy  nephew  hinted  that 
he  might  have  fallen  off  a  bridge.  The  wrath  of  Mr.  Spot- 
tletoe resisted  all  the  entreaties  of  his  wife.  Every  body 
spoke  at  once,  and  Miss  Pecksniff",  with  clasped  hands,  sought 


826  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

consolation  everywhere  and  found  it  nowhere,  when  Jinkins, 
having  met  the  postman  at  the  door,  came  back  with  a 
letter  :  which  he  put  into  her  hand. 

Miss  Pecksniff  opened  it ;  glanced  at  it  ;  uttered  a  pierc- 
ing shriek  ;  threw  it  down  upon  the  ground  ;  and  fainted 
away. 

They  picked  it  up  ;  and  crowding  round,  and  looking 
over  one  another's  shoulders,  read,  in  the  words  and  dashes 
following,  this  communication  : 

**  Off  Gravesend. 
"  Clipper  Schooner,  Cupid, 
Wednesday  7nght, 

"Ever   Injured  Miss  Pecksniff, 

"  Ere  this  reaches  you,  the  undersigned  will  be — if  not  a 
corpse — on  the  way  to  Van  Dieman's  Land.  Send  not  in 
pursuit.     I  never  will  be  taken  alive  ! 

'*  The  burden — 300  tons  per  register — forgive,  if  in  my 
distraction,  I  allude  to  the  ship — on  my  mind — has  been 
truly  dreadful.  Frequently — when  you  have  sought  to 
soothe  my  brow  with  kisses — has  self-destruction  flashed 
across  me.  Frequently — incredible  as  it  may  seem — have  I 
abandoned  the  idea. 

"  I  love  another.  She  is  another's.  Every  thing  appear^ 
to  be  somebody  else's.  Nothing  in  the  world  is  mine — not 
even  my  situation — which  1  have  forfeited — by  my  rash  con- 
duct— in  running  away. 

^'  If  you  ever  loved  me,  hear  my  last  appeal  !  The  last 
appeal  of  a  miserable  and  blighted  exile.  Forward  the  in- 
closed— it  is  the  key  of  my  desk — to  the  office — by  hand. 
Please  address  to  Bobbs  and  Cholberry — I  mean  to  Chobbs 
and  Bolberry — but  my  mind  is  totally  unhinged.  '  I  left  a 
penknife — with  a  buckhorn  handle — in  your  work-box.  It 
will  repay  the  messenger.  May  it  make  him  happier  than 
ever  it  did  me  ! 

"  Oh,  Miss  Pecksniff,  why  didn't  you  leave  me  alone  ! 
Was  it  not  cruel,  cruel !  Oh,  my  goodness,  have  you  not 
been  a  witness  of  my  feelings — have  you  not  seen  them  flow- 
ing from  my  eyes — did  you  not,  yourself,  reproach  me  with 
weeping  more  than  usual  on  that  dreadful  night  when  last 
we  met — in  that  house — where  1  once  was  peaceful — though 
bliglTj:ed — in  the  society  of  Mrs.  Todgers  ! 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEVVIT.  827 

"  But  it  was  written — in  the  Talmud — that  you  should  in- 
volve yourself  in  the  inscrutable  and  gloomy  fate  which  it  is 
my  mission  to  accomplish,  and  which  wreathes  itself — e'en 
now — about  my — temples.  1  will  not  reproach,  for  I  have 
wronged  you.     May  the  furniture  make  some  amends  ! 

"  Farewell !  Be  the  proud  bride  of  a  ducal  coronet,  and 
forget  me  !  Long  may  it  be  before  you  know  the  anguish 
with  which  I  now  subscribe  myself — amidst  the  tempestuous 
howlings  of  the — sailors, 

"  Unalterably,  never  yours, 

'*  Augustus." 

They  thought  as  little  of  Miss  Pecksniff,  while  they 
greedily  perused  this  letter,  as  if  she  were  the  very  last  per- 
son on  earth  whom  it  concerned.  But  Miss  Pecksniff  really 
had  fainted  away.  The  bitterness  of  her  mortification  ;  the 
bitterness  of  having  summoned  witnesses,  and  such  witnesses, 
to  behold  it  ;  the  bitterness  of  knowing  that  the  strong- 
minded  woman  and  the  red-nosed  daughters  towered  tri- 
umphant in  this  hour  of  their  anticipated  overthrow  ;  was 
too  much  to  be  borne.  Miss  Pecksniff  had  fainted  away  in 
earnest. 

What  sounds  are  these  that  fall  so  grandly  on  the  ear  ! 
What  darkening  room  is  this  ! 

8" And  that  mild  figure  seated  at  an  organ,  who  is  he  ?     Ah, 
Tom,  dear  Tom,  old  friend  ! 

Thy  head  is  prematurely  gray,  though  Time  has  passed 
between  thee  and  our  old  association,  Tom.  But,  in  those 
sounds  with  which  it  is  our  wont  to  bear  the  twilight  com- 
pany, the  music  of  thy  heart  speaks  out;  the  story  of  thy 
life  relates  itself. 

Thy  life  is  tranquil,  calm,  and  happy,  Tom.  In  the  soft 
strain  which  ever  and  again  comes  stealing  back  upon  the  ear, 
the  memory  of  thine  old  love  may  find  a  voice  perhaps  ;  but 
it  is  a  pleasant,  softened,  whispering  memory,  like  that  in 
which  we  sometimes  hold  the  dead,  and  does  not  pain  or 
grieve  thee,  God  be  thanked  ! 

Touch  the  notes  lightly,  Tom,  as  lightly  as  thou  wilt,  but 
never  will  thy  hand  fall  half  so  lightly  on  that  instrument 
as  on  the  head  of  thine  old  tyrant  brought  down  very,  very 
low;  and  never  will  it  make  as  hollow  a  response  to  any 
touch  of  thine,  as  he  does  always. 

For  a  drunken,  squalid,  begging-letter-writing  man,  called 


528  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT. 

Pecksniff  (with  a  shrewish  daughter),  haunts  thee,  Tom,  and 
when  he  makes  appeals  to  thee  for  cash,  reminds  thee  that 
he  built  thy  fortunes  better  than  his  own  ;  and  when  he 
spends  it,  entertains  the  ale-house  company  with  tales  of 
thine  ingracitude  and  his  munificence  toward  thee  once 
upon  a  time  ;  and  then  he  shows  his  elbows  worn  in 
holes,  and  puts  his  soleless  shoes  upon  a  bench,  and 
begs  his  auditors  look  there,  while  thou  art  comfortably 
housed  and  clothed.  All  known  to  thee,  and  yet  all  borne 
with,  Tom  ! 

So,  with  a  smile  upon  thy  face,  thou  passest  gently  to  an- 
other measure — to  a  quicker  and  more  joyful  one — and  little 
feet  are  used  to  dance  about  thee  at  the  sound,  and  bright 
young  eyes  to  glance  up  into  thine.  And  there  is  one  slight 
creature,  Tom — her  child  ;  not  Ruth's — whom  thine  eyes 
follow  in  the  romp  and  dance  :  who,  wondering  sometimes  to 
see  thee  look  so  thoughtful,  runs  to  climb  upon  thy  knee, 
and  put  her  cheek  to  thine  :  who  loves  thee,  Tom,  above  the 
rest,  if  that  can  be  :  and  falling  sick  once,  chose  thee  for 
her  nurse,  and  never  knew  impatience,  Tom,  when  thou  wert 
by  her  side. 

Thou  glidest  now,  into  a  graver  air  ;  an  air  devoted  to  old 
friends  and  by-gone  times;  and  in  thy  lingering  touch  upon 
the  keys,  and  the  rich  swelling  of  the  mellow  harmony,  they 
rise  before  thee.  The  spirit  of  that  old  man  dead,  who  de- 
lighted to  anticipate  thy  wants,  and  never  ceased  to  honor 
thee,  is  there,  among  the  rest  :  repeating,  with  a  face  com- 
posed and  calm,  the  words  he  said  to  thee  upon  his  bed,  and 
blessing  thee  ! 

And  coming  from  a  garden,  Tom,  bestrewn  with  flowers 
by  children's  hands,  thy  sister,  little  Ruth,  as  light  of  foot 
and  heart  as  in  old  days,  sits  down  beside  thee.  From  the 
present  and  the  past,  with  which  she  is  so  tenderly  intwined 
in  all  thy  thoughts,  thy  strain  soars  onward  to  the  future. 
As  it  resounds  within  thee  and  without,  the  noble  music, 
rolling  round  ye  both,  shuts  out  the  grosser  prospects  of 
an  earthly  parting,  and  uplifts  ye  both  to  Heaven. 


THE   END. 


^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


070-9^^^"^ 


fif rn  ID  3^^  ^ 


Due  end  of  SPRING  G 
— sub|QCt  to  rerail  oi 


{•3r 


'""^       MAY  2  472   8  4 


SEC'DLO    MAY 


^0  72-12PM — 8- 


LD21A-60»i-3,'70 
(N5382sl0)476-A-32 


General  Library 
University  of  Califor 
Berkeley 


LD  21-lOOm-. 


I 


Ml9447b- 


/^ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


